I was 17 when I first met him, he was 19.I had never had a proper boyfriend before and would tell all my friends how great he was and how he cooked my dinners and we would watch films all night and talk for hours.
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I had only seen him a few hours before that day, we were going out with some friends when he said what I was wearing was nasty and made me look like a tramp and I wasn’t going out looking like that with him and he told me to get changed in to a long skirt.
Looking back that’s when the controlling started, small things at first, then he asked me to move in with him, I did. He started controlling who I talked too and who came to see me in the house. He even decided how often we had sex.
One night after he had been out drinking all night, again, that’s when it happened; he slapped me across the face for not wearing what he told me too.He left and came back; he was so very sorry for what he had done and like a fool I forgave him.
Everything was great for a few weeks and then again he would hit out or punch me. I had to visit the doctors or hospital regally and I would say I was drunk or had slipped again.
I didn’t argue with him, I was too scared of what he would do to me if I ever talked back or disagreed with him.
I don’t know what happened on that day, the 13th May, but I just couldn’t take any more. As soon as he was out the house that day I escaped to my mums. She knew straight away something was wrong.
7 years later after leaving that man, I have a son and a man who love me just the way I am and I have never been happier.
This post is an anonymous guest post to highlight the effects of domestic violence.
