After the first beating it only became worst. I'd always been a bigger girl, Stephen knew my size and he loved me as I was so I presumed. Stephen was horrific with the abuse, he would call me fat, a whale that he never wanted a fat girlfriend and for us to remain an item I would have to do something about it
There were times I couldn't bare the abuse anymore, there were times where I thought about taking more of my medication than I should have, anything for the abuse to stop. The thing is, people wonder and criticize people who are in an abusive relationship about why they don't leave? I will never be able to fully answer that question directly but sometimes the fear of leaving is greater than the fear of leaving. Sometimes I often thought he would change, maybe I should have changed because I was the one who was the problem.
The abuse only got worse, the physical and emotional. Stephen would get angry at the slightest thing.
One evening we had argued about his ex girlfriend, Id always known he had feelings for her still but they say time is a healer, but we had got into a heated argument and he took a blow to my face, within minutes I had received a black and blue bruise.
On another occasion, stephen and I were in so much of a bad time he took me and dragged me by my hair, he pulled until i screamed, he held me there as I took the blows to my head, he kept punching, I had to stop screaming what would it do? He pulled and punched me for at least ten minutes, he smacked me around the face countless times, he kicked my shin to the point I yelped with angony, i pleaded for to him to stop, anything for the pain to go away. Eventually he stopped the blows as I fell in to a heap of a blubbering mess, my arms protecting myself just in case he started beating me again. He told me I was lucky, that he could easily kill me and no one ever find me. He told me no one cared but him, the thing was I knew he was capable of it.
