Every time I tried to leave him, he'd stop me, either with abuse or his latest trick was to take an overdose. I'd feel so guilty that he'd took an overdose I'd go running back to him. I didn't realise he had no intentions of killing himself, he was just manipulating me and it was working. I fell for that one so many times. all the pain he caused me and he could so easily turn it round on me so it was my fault.
My daughter was four when I finally managed to leave him the first time. I went to the Social Services for help. After what seemed hours of crying and pouring my heart out to this total stranger, (who was a man), he gave me my train fare back to my home town and some phone numbers of people to contact when I got there. At this point I still hadn't told my dad and step mum what was going on.
When I got back home I packed a small bag of clothes and hid it. Tomorrow I was going to leave, going to finally get away from him.
I was awake all night, mad thoughts running through my head....what if he found the bag I'd packed, what if he didn't go to work, what if I couldn't act normal and he realised something was wrong, what if he comes home and catches me trying to leave him again.