Nearly nineteen and been through so much already, I'd lost my mum to cancer when I was sixteen after many years watching her suffer from this terrible disease.
At seventeen I met a guy whom I courted for about a year and a half, he was the first of my abusers. I had the sense to press charges and he got six months.
I got a job as a secretary for a bus company which I thoroughly enjoyed, but all I seemed to do was work, eat and sleep. One night after work I decided to go meet my dad in the local pub, I was in need of some company. There was a new barman behind the bar, he served me and when he gave me my change he smiled at me and said "I'm gonna marry you", don't be daft I replied, you don't know me. He seemed a nice guy, much older than me but to me age didn't matter.
Over the next few weeks we got to know each other a little better. He had a twelve year old son who lived with him and other kids that lived with his ex wife.
Every day I met up with him, he just seemed to get nicer and nicer. I eventually told him about my ex and what he'd done to me. He wasn't happy and said if he ever laid a finger on me again he'd kill him. Wow I'd got this wonderful guy who loved me, would look after me and would protect me.
He'd been working away from home and was staying at the pub and going back home at the weekends to check on his house. one weekend he asked me if I would like to go back with him for the weekend, of course I said yes. The weekend was great, he was caring and thoughtful and nothing seemed too much trouble for him.
Back home we'd arranged to meet at the pub, we'd both entered a friendly pool match with the other regulars. It was my turn to play, I was about to take a shot when he stood up and told me to take a differant one. I didn't, I took the shot I wanted too. He just flipped out, waving his arms in the air and looking at me as if I were dirt. He later told me he was sorry, he was tired. These little incidends happened a few more times, but me being me just brushed them to one side. You'd have thought I'd be able to recognise the signs with what I went through with my ex. These were my warning signs and looking back now I should have noticed them. Boy can love blind you.
His job had come to an end and it was time for him to go back home. He asked me if I'd move in with him. It meant leaving my family and job, but he was worth it and I was sure I'd have a good life with him. So I packed my bags and left for my new wonderful life with him.
Things were great at first, then it all slowly changed. He was no longer the wonderful charing guy I'd met, he was turning into someone different. I should have took notice of the signs, the snappiness, the mood swings, the raising of his hands as if he was gonna hit me, the wanting everything his own way. In the bedroom the caring lover had disappeared.
The first punch came one night when we were argueing, it came out of nowhere, I just stood there shocked, speechless, not even able to cry, the whole house was silent. Then came the sorries, I'll never do it again, I don't know why I did that, etc, etc, etc. He looked so upset at what he'd done I actually felt sorry for him and brushed to one side what he'd just done to me. He looked so remorseful and I fell for it.
After that things just got worse and by now I didn't even get a sorry off him. I found out that when I'd first met him he'd just been released from prison for hitting his ex wife, but still I stayed believing all the lies and excuses he gave me.
His drinking got worse, the violence got worse, things in the bedroom got worse....everything was my fault, I made him hit me, I walked into his fist, if I'd do as I was told he wouldn't have to do it to me. Everything he said was drilled into my head till I believed it was my fault. Yet I still stayed. my life was a mess, I was a mess, I had nobody.
Every arguement ended in violence and when the violence stopped then began his sexual needs. The more I said no, the more he enjoyed it, the more I cried, the more he enjoyed it. In the end I learned just to lay there and let him do what ever he wanted to me.
I lied to everyone about how I'd got the bruises, although I don't think anyone believed my anyway. His family kept telling me to leave him, I was young I could do much better. Yet I stayed.
One day he came home from the pub with his cousin. I hadn't finish drying the dinner pots. That was enough to set him off. He hit me, but then I did something really stupid, I hit him back. It was like watching something in slow motion watching him fall back onto the living room wall. I knew i was in for it now. His cousin did tell him not to hit me me but when he took no notice his cousin just left the room and went upstairs. After that, all I can remember is my blood splattering up the wall and accross the ironing board and with ever punch things just seemed to flash black and white. My face was a mess I even had bruising inside my mouth. I had to go to the doctors, I lied to him, I told him I'd put too much baby oil in the bath and had slipped and fell on the taps. He didn't believe me either, but I stuck to my story.
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