Roommate 911, The Crisis Continues

She pointed to the couch and told me in a harsh, I’m not playing tone “Sit!” I really was out of options so, I did. I moved slowly, one foot over the other in a zig zag pattern (not that she was holding a gun on me), and went to the couch. I sat at the far end, closest to the window.
She watched me for a minute, then satisfied that I was not going to move, (though I was thinking heavily about it, just running out the door and screaming like a banshee) she walked over to the kitchen and opened the knife drawer. I heard them rattle, saw her arm dip down as she grasped it. She closed the drawer and stood at the bar staring at me.
“You are not leaving me. Do you understand me?” I could feel my eyes bulging nearly out of my skull. I nodded. My mouth was dry, my heart was racing. Self-defense, kick boxing, screaming stranger, rape, help! Had all gone out the window. The reality was, I was trapped and at her psychotic mercy. She demanded that I leave my husband for her. Quipped with fear was an understatement. I had never seen anything like it. As my husband called she demanded that I tell him right then that I was leaving him for her. I answered the phone and my husband said “You have to leave. You have to get out of there right now.” “I can’t. She is guarding the door and has knives.” I was at her mercy.