Ten years after and I'm still stuck with this fucking asshole, but by 2007 we had already gotten to the point of not being able to enjoy each other's company. Even through holidays there wasn't an excuse to put the violence and arguing aside. On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me bruises and stitches which I stupidly covered up to save his ass. I loved him with everything I had and he stripped me from all I knew.
I decided whilst writing this to not tell you his name. I believe that karma has came naturally to him and I don't need to toy with the system. I also have decided to leave him unidentifiable in respect for his family, lovely people.
The first incident happened today when I had came home late from work one night. (I feel it is important to both me and the reader to emphasise how jealous and paranoid he was, but not protective.) I stepped into the house and within seconds he was marching towards me and grabbed me by the neck. He growled 'where have you been? You whore!' It took a lot of effort to answer him as I couldn't breath but I finally was able to whisper 'in the office, they wanted me to stay late to catch up on some paperwork'. He bellowed 'you're lying!' and threw me across the living room into the opposite wall. Without a word he then marched upstairs and slammed a door.
As this was my first violent experience, I was pretty shaken up. I didn't move from that spot for at least 3 hours and my white blouse was turning black from wiping my mascara off my cheeks with the sleeve. After that night, I could no longer feel safe with him. Even after the countless apologies and promises of it never happening again. However, I thought that I'd give him a chance and that maybe it was just a one off character fault.
He was never really the same to me after that day. His presence made me angry and I wasn't attracted to him anymore, I wanted to leave but I couldn't. I was afraid of leaving him because he was all I knew. At some point I tried to justify his actions by telling my self 'it could be worse, he could have murdered you'. I think when you start comparing your boyfriend to a murderer is when alarm bells should ring in your head. They didn't. I had good memories with this man and I wasn't prepared to let them go because he pushed me into a wall.
Obviously, he didn't stop. I remember having tea with his parents and being shocked when he brutally slapped me across the face whilst we were arguing about money. I thought that he'd have to be a real idiot to hit me in front of the people that raised him. Then his father said 'women won't do as they're told unless you give force, son' and it's then that I realised that this was how he was raised. After this was made clear, I started to realise that his mother was in the same situation I was. She had attempted to cover up bruises on her neck and arms but they were still slightly visible. She had a heartbreaking look in her eye. How can a man be so cruel to the women that carried his child?
