Saviour

Prologue

*Felicity*

Derek. 

That is the name of the 18 year old bad boy that asked me to be his girlfriend on brutally cold afternoon exactly five years ago to this day. Five years with my so called childhood 'sweetheart' and I am telling you now, I did not think I would survive this long.

 You seen on that day five years ago, I was 15 years old with an undeniable crush on this man that I now get the 'pleasure'  of calling my boyfriend. Of course it was exciting at first, finally getting the man of my dreams - except those dreams have now become nightmares and I now suffer from insomnia for fear of going to sleep. Over the last five years, my smile has been eroded down to something barely visible due to the cruelty of his words cutting into me and wearing me down and the small piece of sanity that I have left is rapidly dissolving from the acidic burn of the words that roll off of his tongue on a daily basis. 

The first year was the best year. Derek was everything I needed him to be - strong, polite and handsome. We had fun. I had my first kiss with Derek, the moment full of youthful romance. I then went on to lose my virginity to him and for a while, our sex life was fuelled by love and passion alone. My friends liked him, my family adored him and I loved him. What could possibly go wrong? 

The second year, we moved in together and that is when the arguments started. He liked things to be a certain way which I could tolerate even if it was a little irritating. For example, I had to wash each piece of cutlery three times just to make sure it was clean and everything had to be in the right place constantly otherwise he would lose his temper. The end of that year was the first time he laid a finger on me; his hand harshly colliding the the supple flesh of my petite cheek following a discoloured t-shirt when I had finished the laundry.

The third year, Derek got a new job which inevitably brought him a whole new friendship group meaning he would return home from work later than usual and would be grouchy during the day as a result of him being tired. His mood swings got worse and before I knew what was happening he would call me fat on a daily basis and constantly lash out. He began binge drinking to the point where he would slur every time that he spoke. 

The fourth year, he began to stop me from going out with my friends, confiscating my house key and phone so that the only person I was allowed to communicate with was him. I was allowed to visit my parents if I earned his permission but even then that was rare. I sneaked out whilst he was at work once only for him to catch me on his lunch break as I walked along the promenade. He then proceeded to change the locks on the flat and keep me locked in the bedroom for an entire week until I proved to him that I was trustworthy again. 

The fifth year he convinced himself that I was fat and began to feed me salad for every meal. After six months he was still not satisfied with the amount of weight that I had lost and decided that he needed to restrict my diet even more. What do I get fed now? Lettuce leaves. I get fed a cup full of lettuce leaves once a day which I must eat at the dinner table whilst Derek eats copious amounts of meat. Seems fair, right?

Five years later and here I am weighing 3 stone less with bags under my eyes that are as big as Russia and a broken soul. Only tiny fragments of the lively, outgoing person that I once used to be remaining though those minuscule pieces were cracked, scratched and burn out as a result of this toxic relationship. I cannot even remember the last time that I laughed or even smiled for that matter. I jump whenever I hear the smallest noise and I dread every waking moment though I cannot sleep for the fear that I will be murdered whilst I am unconscious. I am tired, so tired and emotionally, I am drained. The passion in our relationship has fizzled out and hatred has taken its place with frequent counts rape displacing the meaningful love making filled nights that used to be a positive aspect of our relationship. I cry myself into sleep paralysis every night and literally balance on the edge of the mattress, my knuckles white from gripping onto the soft material in order to prevent myself from falling  while Derek snores beside me, holding me in place firmly with a strong, muscular arm. Many a time I have contemplated running away during the night yet every time I have been far too afraid of what he may do if I was caught. He would beat me to a pulp and leave me locked up for days. He would rape me endlessly and leave marks on my skin to make sure that I know I am his. The thought of being hurt any further (both physically and emotionally) terrifies me into staying even though I am living with a monster. 

This is not the man that I fell in love with five years ago today. 

Not at all.