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  A story from Mary

This is my story ok so I have polycystic ovaries, back in oct 2014 a private doctor told me I'd never ever have children as my ovaries were destroyed. I was absolutely heartbroken as I have always wanted kids. So November 2014 my brother got married, I was bridesmaids. The night of the wedding myself and my eldest sister were out having a smoke and a drink chatting away. She said to me 'I know for a fact this time next year you will have a baby girl, trust me' I said sure I was told last month I'd never have any!. Anyway the next day my sister took really really sick. She was transferred to a hospital in London via airplane and everything. She was in life support and we were told to prepare for her to die. She has 3 kids. It was a sad hard time but thankfully she pulled through and eventually got her home for Christmas.

I left my studies, I was training to be a nurse. I came home to help her and help look after her kids. She again took sick and was in ICU for ages. On her daughters birthday, 23rd Jan I found out I was pregnant!!!! She was unconscious and when she finally woke she couldn't believe it, she was so happy for me! She again made it home. She got to make my 12 week scan and said 'it's a girl I know it. Myself and my partner decided to bring our wedding forward as I was pregnant. We got married 17th April 2015, my sister was able to attend and she signed our marriage registration. It was one of the happiest days of my life!.

Two weeks later to that day, 1st May 2015 we sadly lost my sister to septicaemia. I was absolutely heartbroken! It was the saddest day of my life!. On the 2nd October 2015 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl and the 21st October 2016 I again gave birth to another beautiful baby girl!. My two miracles!.

I live in my sisters old house now with my kids and husband. We have been experiencing lots of things strange to make us feel and believe she is with us. I have incorporated my sisters name into my girls names too. I would do anything to have her back with us and for her to meet my girls.

This story means so much to me I thought I'd share with you ladies.
Thanks for reading...

Mary xxxx

Mary Yates and her sister Vicki.
Mary Yates and her sister Vicki.

A Story from Danielle

You never think it will happen to you, but it happened to me.

It all started back in November 2015, I was off out for the evening, doing what every girl my age was doing. Hours and hours on hair and make up before a party but that night I never thought would be the last time I could wear false eye lashes without having to worry. I came home late and fell asleep with my make up still on, I woke the next day with sore eyes and though 'oops shouldn't of slept in false eye lashes' and carried on with my day like normal.

Nothing could prepare me for what happened the next day. I woke up with my whole face like a balloon! It was horrific! I looked like something out of a horror film. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could to show my mum what had happened, she couldn't believe it and nor could I. We got an emergency doctors appointment and the doctors feared it would only get worse and the swelling would travel down my neck and stop me from breathing.

For the next 3 months I was on medication and off work. The swelling and blistering went down but the red sore skin just wouldn't budge. I was living a nightmare. I couldn't leave my house because the sun would burn my face and I knew people would stare. I couldn't help but think why me? Why have I never heard of this?

Thankfully after 4 months the medication had worked and I was back to my normal self apart from the fact I had gained around 4 stone going from a size 8 to a size 12/14 - this was one of the side effects of the medication. The tests came back that I was allergic to 'linalool' and 'latex' which was both the ingredients in the false eye lash glue. Still to this day I'm on medication to prevent having reactions. I occasionally wear false eye lashes with a glue that doesn't contain the ingredients I'm allergic to but the worry of it coming back is still the first thought in my mind.

ALWAYS make sure you do the glue test before hand, it might be annoying and seem like a time waster but it really can happen to anyone girls.

A story from Serena

I want to tell you a story. A story of love, heartbreak, abuse and hope.

On the 7th of January 2017 I broke up with my long term partner, 2 years we were together. Technically 6 months of them were when we dated, but we were practically together then so I counted them all together.

Those first 6 months were the best times of our relationship, the ones that I actually cried about when we broke up. The previous year and half I felt numb to; I wasn’t hurt by them, in all honesty I don’t know what I felt. But days after the break up, the last year and half presented itself in a new light. I remembered everything that happened, like you do with any break up. Only this time I wasn’t remembering it as a sad memory of happier times, I was remembering it as abuse.

A lot of people see domestic abuse as something that is physically, you can see the bruise, the damage that is caused by the other person. I was that person, the one that thought abuse was physical that is. But I was wrong, there is another form of abuse which is just as severe as violence: mental abuse. No one can see the damage that is caused, and no one can tell you just how long it will take for you to recover. With a bruise you can tell a person that it will be gone in a week, you won’t have to look at it again after that. With mental abuse it is so much more difficult, it has been nearly 3 months and I can tell you now that my bruise is still as fresh as the first day.

Throughout the relationship I had suspected that I was being abused, but because it wasn’t physical I brushed it off. I always passed it off as that’s just our relationship, it’s how we’ve always been. But somewhere inside me I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t until we finally broke up and I reflected on just some of the things that happened that it was evident what I had actually been through, what I had put up with. The more I spoke out about the events in the relationship, the more people confirmed that I was being abused. The one person who made it seem even more damming was my therapist.

Even though I had come to the realisation with help from friends and family my therapist made it clear just the extent of some of the issues I had been through. There is a word that I would like you to remember; Gaslight. By definition this means to manipulate someone by psychological means to question their own sanity.

I had been under Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for 10 months for self-hate, stress and depression. I hated myself, felt like a failure to everyone and a disappointment. I had suicidal thoughts that I once almost acted out on. In my last meeting with my therapist I told her that I had broken up with my partner and explained some of the things that lead to the break up. It was in this meeting that she told me there was nothing she could do for me. Everything that she had been treating me for was not the issue; he was.

So knowing this, knowing that I was gaslighted and that I ended up in therapy, I want to tell you everything. I want you to know everything that lead me to hate myself so much, lead me to want to die.

The first 6 months of our relationship was just the dating side of things, we weren’t official but we were exclusive. These were the best days of the relationship, these are the times when I do the typical looking back on the relationship and remembering the happy days. The days that broke my heart when I did end it. He was a great guy to me: cooked for me, made me laugh, made me feel like I was needed in his life. As I look back now I feel like this was all just a façade. It started to change when we moved in together. That’s the guy who changed me, who killed me inside.

He started to become selfish: I think that’s the best way to describe it. As most of you know, living with a significant other means sharing the responsibility. When we first moved in together we used to do our own laundry, out of habit I suppose. But about a month in I suggested we just piled our laundry together and did all as one lot. A couple of months later I reverted this decision, bought us our own washing baskets and told him we do our own laundry. I had to do the same with the washing up too.

He stopped doing the laundry and made me do it. Always getting in a mood that he didn’t have any clean clothes because I hadn’t washed his clothes for him. This caused many arguments because I got tired of him constantly complaining that his lack of clothes was solely my fault. I often pointed out that he knew how to use a washing machine but of course it was me that had to do the washing because I didn’t work. He would refuse to do laundry if it meant washing my clothes; why should he wash my clothes, they’re not his. So it got to the point where I’d had enough and told him I would never do his washing again. And like magic he knew how to use the washing machine again.

The same happened with the washing up. It took a lot of persuasion to get him to wash the dishes and even then it was all half assed. Many times I pointed out the pans or plates he hadn’t washed. His response; I didn’t use them so I shouldn’t wash them. So that started the washing anything we used ourselves and not the other persons.

The toughest time for me was when I was jobless. This was a big contributing factor to my depression. Because I didn’t have a job I was lazy. I was a full time university student and I was lazy. It was all my fault that I couldn’t get a job; I wasn’t doing enough. Applying to a minimum of 10 jobs a day wasn’t enough and I should have been doing more. I should have done volunteering or done another course; anything because what I was doing just wasn’t enough for you.

Of course being a student jobless meant that once uni did finish I was short for cash and nearly ran out of money. I had enough money to pay one more lot of rent and that was it. He found out about this and blamed it all on me, this was all my fault. I should have just taken any job even if I didn’t want it; at the time this would have been bad for my depression. He started to tell me that I needed to make a list of everything that I could sell to raise some money. He told me that he did not want to be left supporting me. My own partner did not want to support me. This was a guy who earned £19k a year and had around 4k savings; and he didn’t want to be let supporting me. It was at this time that I nearly killed myself. He made me feel like a complete failure and disappointment to everyone.

But then I got a job. Rejoice! I had a full time job at £13 a hour whilst studying full time. I thought that this might make him happy or proud of me. Nope, I was wrong there. My job wasn’t really a job, after all it was only a care job: temporary and not permanent. All care jobs are considered temporary. And this job was very intense with 12 hour night shifts. But even after doing a 12 hour night shift, traveling for 2 hours, I was still lazy. I would finish my shift at 8am and wouldn’t get home till around 10am. I would then crawl straight into bed and sleep. I would wake around 4pm and if I didn’t have to be at work then I would just chill for the rest of the evening. To him this was me being lazy. I tried to explain that being a night worker meant my days become nights and days become nights but of course I should have woken up hours ago because I’ve slept through the whole day.

He made me feel so unwanted and unloved it often felt like I was just sleeping in the same bed as a house mate, not my partner. There was never any doubt that he didn’t love me the way I loved him, nor did he hide his lack of attraction to me. He made me had myself and lose any love I had for myself.

The day that I started to fall out of love with him was the day he told me he wasn’t in love with me. He told me it as though he was telling me what he had had for lunch. So simple, casual and yet so painful. It tore me apart. This was the man that I was in love with and he had just told me he wasn’t in love with me. Understandably I was off with him for a short while until he forced it out of me what was wrong with me. So I told him; I was currently trying to come to terms with the fact that the man I loved had told me he didn’t love me. He then made me to sound like I was the crazy one for being hurt. Of course he isn’t in love with me, I knew this when we got together and of course he would never love me as much as I him. Now, I knew he wasn’t in love with me when we got together but what I didn’t expect was to find out a year later he isn’t in love with me and likely never will be.

Yet after this, I still stayed and put myself through more pain. I will be the first to admit that sometimes I would try to make him jealous. If I ever went on a night out I would make up some lie about the amount of men that wanted to take me home and how attractive these guys were. Yes, I did get a lot of guys asking if I was single but no, none of them were attractive. But the way he made me feel, with the things he would say, it was the only way I could think to get him to want me more than he ever showed.

He told me that he felt I had yet to achieve my optimum attractiveness- whatever that means-. He told me that he wasn’t sexually attracted to me anymore because I had gotten so fat; but of course it was okay to say that because we had gotten fat together. He would tell me that no man would want to wake up next to me, no man would want to see me without makeup on, no man would want to see me naked. He would tell me he preferred me clothed than naked. That all the men who would see me on a night out were the lucky ones, he was the one that had to wake up next to me. He would never compliment me. It would either be no comment from him or a insult. I once made an effort to look good and I felt good about the way I looked and all he could say was that I looked like a homeless goth. The closest I got to a compliment was that I looked human. But when I told him that I liked the way I looked or joked about being more attractive than his ex (we’ve all done it) he told me that I thought too highly of myself. And I believed him and it tore me apart. I began to hate who I was, the way I looked and I believed him; I do think too highly of myself, who would want to wake up next to me and see me naked with no makeup.

It eventually got to the point where it felt like I wasn’t in a relationship anymore. We spent no time together, I wouldn’t know that he had come home from work until he came in the bedroom for a nap and then leave again afterwards until he came in to sleep. He would get in the bed and go to sleep. That was it; just rolled over and went to sleep. There was so many times that I cried myself to sleep next to him because he rejected me. He would tell me that I didn’t deserve a hug or a kiss. I hadn’t earned it. I started to think that I had to earn his affection and would try all sorts but it all ended the same way; me in tears wondering what I did to earn his rejections.

It was towards the end of the relationship when I really started to question myself. Was I such a bad girlfriend that he hated me so much that he wanted nothing to do with me. He treat me as though I was just another house mate. He would tell me that his life goal was to not being in a relationship but to have lots of female friends instead. He told me this whilst I was his girlfriend.

As a woman in a relationship, I’m not going to lie, I like to be looked after when I’m ill. There are two occasion that stick with me that looking back now should have been big red flags, amongst the rest of it anyways.

The first is when I fell on the bus. I fell on my foot and hurt it badly. I couldn’t put any weight on it and was in excruciating pain. He didn’t help me, even when I was crying and crying out in pain. He just mocked me and laughed at me. I had to get my landlord to help me to the emergency room for an x-ray. It turns out that I broke my foot and all he did was mock me and refuse to go to the shop to get me painkillers.

The second is more recent. This happened around November/December time. I was severely sick. Throwing up, the lot. It was so bad I almost called an ambulance because of the pain that I was in, I haven’t been in that kind of pain before. I was screaming out, crying, shaking, sweating. It was horrendous and I do not wish to have it happen again. I was in the bathroom and had to message him to bring me a bowl so that I could be sick. He brought one and then left. Didn’t ask me if I was okay or if I needed anything else. I was stuck in that bathroom for a long while. He then messaged me asking if I had finished because he needed the bathroom. I told him that I couldn’t leave yet and asked him to use the other bathroom (the house had 2). He refused saying that he could only use the one that I was in. I finally managed to leave the toilet but ended up falling asleep on the floor outside the bathroom because I was so exhausted but needed to be close to the toilet. When he left the toilet he asked me what was wrong and I explained that I had been screaming in pain. He told me that he had heard me screaming and wondered what it was. Didn’t think to come and check make sure if I was okay or anything though. We went to bed and I asked him to swap sides for one night, he slept closest to the door and I was still being sick so needed a quick escape. He refused, telling me that he had work in the morning and that was basically more important than me making it to the toilet to be sick.

That takes me back to the comment about him being a selfish man. The relationship was built on everything he said and everything he felt. It didn’t matter what I felt; I would often tell him that what he was saying hurt my feelings. He would dismiss it as though I was being too sensitive or overthinking the situation. And after so long you start to doubt your own feelings. I did start to think maybe I was overthinking and overreacting. And that’s why so much happened that did.

But as the relationship got closer to being over I realised that our relationship was in fact better when we lived apart. So trying to hold on to what I could of this failing relationship I suggested that we moved apart. Just lived separately for a short while to try and rebuild the relationship. This was met with defiance. He told me that if I moved out without him he would sell all of his stuff and move back in with his parents and that there would be no point in me ever going to see him because we would be over.

For the last couple of months I had been looking for a place of our own, I felt that the house we lived in had killed our relationship. Now I know it was him. But anyway, he would tell me that we could only move to certain areas and that it wouldn’t matter where I worked we would always have to move near his workplace. He knew that I hated the place we lived and how I felt like it had an impact on my mental health but he told me that I was being impatient and that I needed to just stop. But then he would tell me to start looking at houses and then the next day shout at me for looking at houses like he had never mentioned it the day before.

There’s so much more he did/say to me such as not buying me anything for Christmas because he felt that I didn’t deserve it. Telling me that I would never get married to any man because I refuse to marry a man who doesn’t find me beautiful. And although he never got violent he did hit me with a hair brush because I accidentally kicked his clothes onto the floor whilst I was in bed.

Some people reading above will think that he was just an areshole jerk and not in fact abusive. So I would like to offer you some of the characteristics of physiologic abuse;

· They accuse you of being “too sensitive” in order to deflect their abusive remarks.

· They belittle and trivialize you, your accomplishments, or your hopes and dreams.

· They try to make you feel as though they are always right, and you are wrong.

· They give you disapproving or contemptuous looks or body language

· They regularly point out your flaws, mistakes, or shortcomings

· They are emotionally distant or emotionally unavailable most of the time.

· They don’t show you empathy or compassion.

· They play the victim and try to deflect blame to you rather than taking personal responsibility.

· They play the victim and try to deflect blame to you rather than taking personal responsibility.

· They invalidate or deny their emotionally abusive behaviour when confronted.

Some of the points that have been identified above relate to some events that happened which have not being mentioned. I have told a lot that happened in the relationship and I honestly wish I could say that what is said is the extent of it, but there is more. More things that were said, more arguments that happened, more events that took place.

Everything that happened didn’t seem to have such an impact when I was in the relationship. But when I left and took a step back I really got to see the damage which had been done. I learnt that the way I felt about myself was actually an extension of his thoughts. I had completely believed everything he said about me and felt that it was my own mind creating this image of myself. This image of hate and disappointment. And that goes back to the word I said right at the beginning; gaslight.

Once the relationship ended I did hate myself, I hated myself for being so blind to what was happening right in my face. At one point in the relationship I did recognise what was happening but he dismissed it saying that I was overreacting. And soon I went on to believe that it was just the way we was.

When the relationship did end, I still lived in the house that we shared. Thankfully we rented a room each so I had my own room away from him. But it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. For the following month I felt fear that was both completely irrational yet altogether rational. Never before did I lock my room door but now I locked it every time I left the room, even just using the bathroom.

Some part of me was scared that he would magically appeared in the house (he didn’t live there anymore), and lock himself in my room whilst I wasn’t there. Completely irrational. But it didn’t stop there, every time someone walked up the stairs my heart started to beat erratically and I would feel sick to my stomach. Again, completely irrational, but I kept worrying that he was going to come into my room. Baring in mind my door was locked and the lock changed.

Whenever I returned back to the room, I was sick with fear every time I opened the door. Some irrational part of me was expecting to see him sat on the bed or laid asleep. So every time I opened the door I took a step back and looked around the room just to make sure that he wasn’t there like my mind was telling me.

I was practically scared of my own shadow until I eventually moved out. And even today I don’t know what I would have done if he was actually there. So even though all my thoughts and fears were irrational, I do know that after everything he did I was rational to be scared.

It’s been almost 3 months since I ended the relationship and I am stronger now than I was the day I left. But I am not going to sit here and tell you that everything is all perfect. I am still bruised, I still hurt and I cry way more than I care to admit. Although I have forgotten a lot of personal things about him; the sound of his voice, what he smells like; I still remember the words and the actions. Only now it is his words in my head, in my voice. It is now me telling myself I am not good enough, no one wants me. And I think that is so much worse that it being his voice. If it was his voice I think it would be easier because it is him saying it, but it is me saying it and it is me hating myself even though it is his words.

I cry because of how much it hurts, how much those words and this relationship broke me. I became a shell of the person I was and I have only just started to build myself back up again. I cry because sometimes I remember what it felt like the first time around and then I remember how it still feels now. And then other times I cry because I let myself be hurt and manipulated.

But it is not all doom and gloom. This has taught me that it is okay to have a voice and use it. It is okay to feel hurt and to express it. It isn’t okay for your feelings to be invalidate and dismissed.

I know what I want from love and I know what not to accept. And as tough as it has been over the last few months, I have been reminded that I can love and I can trust again. I’m not going to say that it is all plain sailing and is just like any other relationship. I am absolutely terrified that what has happened here will happen again. But it is about trust and honesty. I have gone through a world of hell and come out the other side stronger and wiser.

It does make it difficult for me to fully let go of my fears and go ahead with it but he is understanding is prepared to wait for me. He has been a big part of my recovery from the abuse. He makes me feel a way I never thought I would again. I know it will be a long time until I am completely over it, but something like this isn’t something you just walk away from unscathed. And I know some of you think that clearly it wasn’t that bad if I can be in love already but in all honesty I was emotionally over it before it ended and when you know, you know.

I hurt more than I will ever admit, but I am more than this, I am more than my abuse.

I am Serena Craven, and I will dammed if I let this control me anymore than it already has!


Anonymous Story

So this is my story so basically after a whirlwind brief summer romance I ended up married at 20 to a American man who I met 7 weeks previously.

He was literally the most amazing caring man I've ever met. He was full of life had the most charming smile and stories to last a lifetime. I think that's what pulled me in how vibrant and exciting his life seemed. I was besotted by him and felt the luckiest girl in the world to have met someone as genuine as he was. Someone who I could share my life with oh how I was wrong!!

We got married mid September 2009 it was a small ceremony as all his family were in the states so it was just a couple of my family and friends and his mother. It was at the time one of the happiest days of my life I truly felt complete and thought we would live happily ever after again how wrong was I?

The first incident of domestic abuse I experienced from him was Halloween I had been at work and he had been drinking with his friends he liked a drink but then we all did it was the environment we was in so that didn't seem like a problem to me but it was. He came to meet me after work at about 3am and suggested we walked along to seafront back to my house which I thought was romantic so I agreed.

Walking down the dark front had a calming but eerie affect on me but I was happy strolling hand in hand with my amazing new husband when he started asking me what I had been up to during the night . I told him I had spoke to a few customers and had a laugh with some old friends this was usually in my job as a barmaid in the local hotspot of the town he said he knew I had been talking to other men as he had been watching me. I laughed it off saying well you know I talk to other men there after all that's the same place I met you and he just switched.... he started throwing accusations around and I was so confused as to why he had never shown this side to him before I was bewildered with confusion trying to make sense of what the hell was actually going on. Reassuring him I had eyes for no one but him and I loved him I married him after all! He didn't listen started pushing me and grabbing me by the arm and shaking me over the sea wall knowing damn well I can't swim and was screaming at him to stop. He laughed in my face it was then that I saw this man for exactly what he was.... a crazy bully the look in his eyes was so scary it was like he was a different person. I was shaking and begging and pleading with him to not let me go and all he did was carry on and laugh at me telling me my daughter would be better off without a nasty slag like me in her life how everyone hated me everyone knew I was good for nothing and how he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I eventually gave in and agreed to anything he said hoping and praying in my head he would stop. He did. We walked home in silence went home went to bed and that was that. That was the first night I cried myself to sleep wondering what o had done to deserve this and maybe I did call for it by talking to other men at work? I was hysterical and I remember looking at my clock and it telling me it was 7:15 I drifted off to sleep eventually.

He woke up full of sorrys and I love you he didn't know what he was doing and blamed the alcohol told me I was his world he would never hurt me and how stupid he was for allowing alcohol to consume him like that.... I believed him. Life went on lovely happy and sweet....

Our first Valentine's Day was fast approaching and I was so excited making little arrangements for us from sexy underwear couple sex games dinner and lots of sex lol I wanted a intimate day but he wanted to go out that night and have a drink so off we went. This man loved my appearance he loved my body my style and loved showing me off to absolutely anyone he made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world we had a brilliant night full of fun laughter and lots of vodka! Got to the time everyone went their separate ways and off we went home. We got home and my head started spinning a little so I said to him I didn't feel so good and I was going to go to bed I clearly had drunk way to much that night! He switched again I remember being in my kitchen and him turning the hob on then placing his hand on it saying to me look what your making me do this is how crazy you make me!! Why don't you want me? What's wrong with me sex? I tried calling him down and telling him I was just tired I had drunk to much and needed to lay down before I was sick he said he was sorry and carried me to the bathroom pulled my hair out of my face and helped me be sick I remember thinking how sweet he was and how much he must love me to help me do that again I was wrong. He laid me onto our bed and curled up against me spooning he then tried to start foreplay with me and o told him no I didn't feel up to it so he kicked off again calling me all the names under the sun how he was so good to me helping me and this is how I treat him. I really wasn't in the mood for his drama by now I really did just need some sleep so I got up and climbed into my daughters bed (she wasn't there) and fell asleep. I don't know how long I was asleep for but I remember waking up to a sweet tinkling sound and recognised it as the tune from the snow globe his sister had made for us for our wedding I turned over and swallowed nervously at the sight in front of me he was sitting on the end of the bed wearing his boxers and the suit jacket he wore to our wedding with the snow globe in his hand and blood over his face it took me a while to compose myself to ask what had happened?? He told me after I had gone to sleep he felt bad for the way he treated me so he cut himself and then he started crying in my lap telling me how sorry he was how he didn't deserve me he was messed up and all that's stuff and I genuinely feel sorry for him I start to cuddle him ask him how he's got blood on his face he says he doesn't know even though it looks like it was smeared on purpose so was freaky. He picked me up and took me to out bed wrapped his arms round me and sung to me on my ear. I was so scared I didn't know what to do he said he wanted to make love to me so I told him to clean himself up first I didn't feel comfortable having sex with someone covered in their own blood. He turned and punched me in the face telling me now we're both covered in blood so it doesn't matter I was shaking and crying trying to get up to get tissue for the bloody nose he had just given me and he kept pulling me back down that's when things got even worse! As he pulled me down the last time he flipped me onto my back and pulled my dress down wrapped it around my ankles so I could really move and that's when I felt the most awful pain rip through my inside as he pushed his fingers inside me pinning my head down with his other hand whilst I'm screaming at him to stop please stop!! Please I beg you stop!! He was getting off on it as he put his knee into my back to keep me down and tied my hands to the bed with the tie he wore to our wedding so by now my hands and feet are totally bound he climbs on top of me from behind and rapes me. He was viscous laughing at me crying saying how I can't do anything about it he's my husband which means he doesn't need permission how he was a man and this is how I deserved to be treated. I must have been a state because I could feel the blood running down my face as he's raping me from behind pulling on the tie so it's really hardly penetrating me I'm screaming and crying totally freaked out by what is happening he grunts then rolls over pulling me by the hair then making me give him oral still tied up crying my eyes out. He then picks me up and throws me onto the bedroom floor and starts kicking the shit out of me in the head face stomach arms legs absolutely everywhere once he's left me a bloodied heap on the floor he starts kicking my stuff around and smashing up my bedroom screaming how he didn't want to do this but he had no choice I made him do it. He walked out the room and it went quiet I got up off the floor and looked into a mirror I didn't recognise myself it was scary how much I actually didn't look like myself but I was so calm by this point I look back and realise how unnerving it must of been for th rpolice when they finally turned up. They came in and saw the state of me I was naked except from my bra and they could see I had been tied up from the marks around my wrists. They asked me what had happened  and I stupidly didn't tell them I took them we had an argument which got out of hand but that I had given as good as I got but they arrested him anyway. I refused to Press any charges against him because I truly believed they wouldn't believe he raped me as we were married how stupid is that right?

Life continued and I'm noticing more and more things about this man I married and it's really unnerving I come to realise he has a thing for seeing women vulnerable and taking advantage as he used to 'role pkay' as he called it and everytime it would be me tied up and him doing things I didn't want him to do but I went along as to keep him quite I look back now and realise these were all rapes too.

Eventually I ended up fighting back against him with no luck at all it got to the point where it was right for your life or be killed I genuinely thought he would kill me if I didn't fight back. The police were called every week or so without fail it got that bad they knew me by my first name and I've never been in trouble before so that was bad enough!

The last straw for me was when he went off in front of my daughter as before then he never would it would only be over the weekend when she was at her dads but this time was different we had been to a friends bbq and had a few drinks I remember I had 2 glasses of white wine so I wasn't even tipsy but he consumed quite a lot I stayed sober as I had my daughter. We went home late afternoon and he turned again I was so scared because she was there I quickly run upstairs with her and put her in her room lockingthe stair gate behind me so she couldn't get out I went back downstairs and he just came at me wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed so hard I felt the life draining from me I remember thinking I'm going to die right now and then he's going to kill my baby girl and feeling helpless as I could  feel myself getting weaker and weaker and I couldn't do anything to stop it it was the most scared I had ever been at that moment. The next thing I know I'm waking up on the floor I can hear my daughter screaming upstairs and he's no where to be seen panicking he's hurting her I run up the stairs with a knife ready to actually stab him but he wasn't here just her shaking and petrified I asked her where he was and she told me she didn't know she heard the door shut! Thank god he hadn't touched my little girl but that was the end of it for me I packed my stuff and moved back in with my my mum he hassled me for a while but eventually got the hint and flew back to America and good bloody riddance to him!

I heard from a mutual friend a couple of years after he went back he met another woman had twins with him and their relationship went sour they broke up he went crazy and drove round her house after going on a drinks and drug fuelled bender beat the mother within an inch of her life and took the twins he took them to a woodland area and filmed himself shooting both his son and his daughter then turning the gun on himself he survived and so did his son but his daughter died from her injuries and the mum is now wheelchair blind as he stabbed her in the back severing her spinal cord he is currently on death row but will likely serve 30 years before being put down!

I've already started saving for my flight for when this day comes it will be my greatest pleasure in watching that son of a bitch take his last breath! His family stand by him to this day and blame me and his baby mother for his failings but it came out in court he had abused every single one of his partners dating back to when he was 11 he beat a boy up and tied him to a slide and rode his bike down it over him the man is literally a phsycho.

I'm over the whole thing now and I'm in contact with his ex the one who's got his son. She's currently getting s injunction against his family as they keep stalking her but she is getting there.

I hope if anyone reads my story and it gives them hope then my job is done my marriage only lasted 11 months but it was the longest part of my life by far.