It was maybe 3am in the morning and Gemma, my friend Lucy and I were sitting at the bus stop, we could never afford cabs, buying alcohol was far more important. This bright yellow ford escort van drove past. It circled the block and drove past several more times. We knew the driver; he was elder brother to the group of lads we used to hang around with. With him in the passenger seat was his sidekick and best friend, a guy named Rob. They pulled over and began to chat us up. We were so amazed and flattered. Us, barely fifteen, and these guys in their mid twenties. They offered us a lift home and of course we accepted, we knew them of course, they were safe! It was on was on the journey home that Rob took Lucy’s number and I developed my first major crush on the driver, Wayne. I thought him to be the best looking guy I had ever seen and I was besotted within minutes.
Within a week we became a foursome, Lucy and Rob, Wayne and I. We would go out drinking and the lads would pick us up afterwards. They always played their loud music on the car stereos and other girls would watch us getting in the cars. We felt the most glamorous girls in the world. By the second week Lucy had slept with Rob, and I was under pressure to sleep with Wayne. Pressure from myself of course. Wayne never pushed it. In fact he was almost indifferent which of course made me even keener to impress. It was maybe a month later that I lost my virginity to Wayne. I wasn’t scared, he knew exactly what he was doing and it was my job to simply lie there. I was thrilled I had finally done it. It felt totally right and by this point I could see marriage, children and a big house with Wayne.
I had little previous experience with boys. I had had school boyfriends and loads of kissing at parties, but never further. But I knew that Wayne was older and there was no way he would be satisfied with kissing.
Looking back I realise now how little I saw Wayne and how little Lucy saw Rob. He would text me maybe once a week, never called. Most Fridays nights they would pick us up from Croydon, but they were never out in the pubs and clubs. The lift home would always end with a detour down a quiet road for half an hour then I would be dropped off. We never went on dates, or back to anyone’s house. This continues for several months, and I really became obsessed with Wayne. I had told all my friends that I was in love with him and truly believed he felt that way back. We barely even talked. I knew nothing about him. But it didn’t seem to matter. Looking back, I cringe as I write this.
It all ended the morning of my GCSE school maths exam. I received a text from Wayne simply saying he couldn’t see me anymore, I have done nothing wrong, but it was over and not to contact him again. I was, needless to say, absolutely devastated. I cried all day at school. And as you can guess, I miserably failed my maths exam. I was gutted, felt like my heart had been ripped out. I had never experienced this feeling and began to believe I was ill, I felt so bad.
My friends were fantastic and rallied around. They brought me chocolate bars and gave me hugs. Two days later Rob had sent Lucy a similar text and we went through the chocolate bar and hugs routine again.
I was miserable for weeks. I would jump every time I saw a flash of yellow thinking it might be him driving past. If my phone beeped late at night I would literally run and grab it, always disappointed when it was just a friend. I would lie for hours on my outdoor toilet roof, with my music blaring sad songs, crying to myself thinking of all the memories I had of Wayne. I genuinely felt heartbroken.
Foolish Youth
It was two months later that Lucy went away on holiday. I was out in Croydon and I bumped into Rob. We had always got on in that silly way you do with a mates bloke. We ended up chatting and he texted me the following day. He said he wanted to talk to me about Wayne. I went out and met him at midnight. We sat for three hours at the bottom of my drive just chatting. I actually felt like he was interested in me. He told me that Wayne had found someone new, a girl named Vicki to replace me. As you can imagine, I was very upset. Rob and I met several more times before he kissed me. I didn’t object. I was flattered. Again, this older guy liked me. And he complimented me. He said I Wayne was a fool to have given me up and that I was gorgeous. This was exactly what I needed. Before I knew it I was back at his house, and we were sleeping together.
At this point I should explain. Although Lucy had dated Rob, she had never been that keen on him, and had been dating other guys at the same time. Don’t get me wrong, I was still betraying my friend, and I felt awful, but only after. I didn’t even think about her at the time. It was almost like I was too flattered by Rob’s interest in me to consider her feelings. I was so young and stupid. All I saw was an older guy who liked me.
Rob and I began to meet in secret. He said he didn’t want Wayne to find out and that we had to be careful. I found the whole thing totally exciting and thrilling. It was like an adventure, sneaking out of my house at night to meet him. Then one day I began to get texts, really nasty abusive texts calling me a slag, and a whore. Threatening to tell my parents what I was like. I automatically contacted Rob, told him about the message. He sounded bored when I spoke to him. I was crying my eyes out, really shaken by the venomous tone of them. Rob casually informed me that Wayne had found out about us and he was furious with me. Not with Rob, just with me. The messages were most likely from him. I asked Rob how Wayne had found and I could almost hear the shrug down the phone, no explanation given. Rob then hung up, said he would call me in a while. I didn’t hear from him for over a week.
The texts kept coming, more abuse, and this time threatening that unless I went and met Wayne he would call my house phone and tell my parents what sort of person I was. I was petrified. I texted Wayne back and agreed to meet him that night. I presumed he was going to shout at me and I knew I deserved it. I had behaved appallingly, like a slag. I regretted sleeping with Rob. I still loved Wayne and I couldn’t believe how much I had messed up.
I went out and met Wayne that night. He was waiting at the bottom of my drive. He didn’t speak as I got in the car. He drove off. I asked where we were going and he said somewhere quiet to talk. We drove for ages. I started to get worried that I would be gone for too long and my parents would notice. It was a school night and I would get in trouble. We drove for about forty five minutes, heading into the country side. He finally pulled down a side road and past a gate, into a wooded area. There was no light and he turned the car off so it was completely quiet and pitch black.
Wayne began to shout at me call me a slag, he told me that I was worthless and I had let him down. I told him I knew about Vicki and that he had dumped me, he didn’t want me anymore. He grew quiet and said Rob had lied. It was Rob sleeping with Vicki, not him. He said that I had to make it up to him, to apologise for what I had done. I knew exactly what he meant and I said no. He wanted all the details of Rob and I, began demanding that I told him exactly where we had slept together, what had happened. He said that he had found out because Rob had bragged about it, couldn’t wait to tell him. Wayne then told me I had a choice. I could get out of the car. Or I could sleep with him. If I walked away he said he would leave me there. He said he would call my parents and tell them what I was like. He said he knew where my little brother hung around and he would find him and hurt him. He said that he would make my life hell. And I had no reason not to believe him.
There was no doubt in my mind what I was going to do. I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t call anyone to pick me up, I would be in so much trouble and I felt like I owed Wayne. I had behaved like a slag, and in order to make it better I had to make it up to him. I was so scared and he was so horrid. He literally took what he wanted. He didn’t cuddle me, or kiss me. He just used me. Half way through I began to get shooting pains up my tummy, and something didn’t feel right. He didn’t even talk to me after, just dropped home. My stomach was hurting so much. As he drove away I receive a text from him that said he couldn’t find the condom. It must have come off inside me and I was to get to the doctors to have it removed and get the morning after pill. I called him immediately, but he didn’t answer and I texted but never received a reply. I never heard from him again.
I managed to get a doctors appointment the next day and bunked off school. I didn’t tell any of my friends, I felt too ashamed. They would think me so stupid for going to meet Wayne. I really felt horrid. I felt like a complete slag, and so used. I went to the doctor alone and she was so unsympathetic to me. She told me I was silly to not use protection. She insisted I went on the pill because I was having sex and wouldn’t listen to my explanation of what had happened. When I finally got the guts to tell her the condom was inside me, she seemed exasperated, and I was mortified when she told me to take of my jeans and knickers so she could remove it. I was so embarrassed. I had never had an examination before and again I felt so ashamed of myself.
It was about a week later when Rob finally called. I told him that I knew he had bragged to Wayne and that I hated him. I told him what had happened and he laughed. He said I was stupid and that he and Wayne had planned it. They had both wanted “some” and I was gullible and stupid enough to go along with it. He said he had known girls like me before, and that I would become the local slag. He said he had simply done me a favour introducing me to it.
I felt so low. At this point I still hadn’t told anyone, I was so ashamed. I was terrified I would become pregnant; I didn’t know how effective the morning after pill was. Eventually I got drunk and told my elder brothers girlfriend. She was amazing but automatically began saying that I had been raped. She said that I had been forced into sex with someone and given no decent way out. I didn’t know what to think. I had always thought that rape was a violent, evil act that happened to girls who walked down dark alleys. It never even crossed my mind someone you had previously slept with could do it.
To this day, I give no name to what happened to me. Looking back I wish I had walked away, into the woods, wherever. But at the time, I genuinely felt I had no choice. And yet I struggle with the definition of rape. I agreed to the act. I was scared but I still said yes. Maybe it is defined as coercion, maybe I was blackmailed into sex. Maybe I was raped. I don’t know. I know that to this day I feel ashamed at what happened. At the age of twenty three, regardless of where I am or who am I with, I sleep with the light on. I will not be in a dark place alone. I get terrified to point of having a panic attack.
I would later find out from friends that Wayne had a long term girlfriend that he had been dating for five years, and continued to date the whole time he was sleeping with me. Rob had a girlfriend of three years that he too dated whilst sleeping with me. Lucy and I were simply “bits on the side”, entertainment for them, and an activity to amuse them when they were bored.
Safety In Size
A few months later I was meet my first long time boyfriend Chris, who was affectionately nicknamed Og. He was over six foot tall and heavy built. He was very sweet and shy and he made me feel safe. We had what I can only describe as very safe relationship. We dated for three years. He was older, twenty two and he was very settled. He had a very boring job working with cars, worked nine to five, and I saw him every night. He would pick me up at the same time every day after school, and later college. We said we loved each other, and I think I did love him. But like a big brother. He made me feel safe and it was what I needed. He would cuddle me endlessly and tickle me to cheer me up. I think he had marriage plans and a future lay out. I never saw that, but we seemed to just keep dating. It was only when I began to think about university that I realised that whilst I cared so much for Og, I was ready to move on. I think I broke his heart and the summer before university started we split up. He took it badly, but I had made up my mind and to this day I am still in contact with him. He is a friend and I wish we could have just been friends. He was lovely, but not for me in the long term. I was not ready to be a housewife. But he came along at a time when I needed safety and he provided that perfectly. He knew about Wayne and whilst he struggled to understand it, he would always be there with a shoulder to cry on.
Start Of Something
I started university with a determination to be single. I wanted to make myself happy. I was adamant that I would never again be used for sex or rely on a guy to make me feel safe. I wanted to grow up and become independent. I looked forward to make my own decisions and being by myself as my own person.
I had been at university a term the first time I saw Justin outside my local nightclub. He was standing with a group of his friends, just talking and hanging around. It was 2am and the night was over, the club was kicking out and people were beginning to make the journey home. I recognised him, and in my drunk haze I thought maybe I had seen him back at home in Croydon. I approached him. The effect of the alcohol giving me a confidence I wouldn’t normally feel. I asked him where I knew him from, we introduced ourselves and that was it. I returned to my friends and began the walk home, not to think about, or even remember him for the next few weeks.
It had been a brilliant night; my housemates and I had spent the night watching scary films. We took a break around 1am and much to our delight realised it had been snowing. There must have been about 6 inches, and with little thought to an early start or lectures the next day, we threw on jackets and gloves and ran outside. We had what can only be described as the most spectacular snow ball fight. We were soaked, no one was safe. No rules. Snow down our tops, in our ears, it was brilliant. As we played outside the front of our house a guy came out of a house next to us. He joined the fight and from across the car park announced his housemate had a huge crush on me. I was bemused, embarrassed, but thought it to be funny. He mentioned the name Justin and the memory of the nightclub came back. I remember giggling and not even registering it as anything, just a silly announcement. The snow ball fight was far more important.
A few days later, again around 2 am my internal university telephone rang. It was a drunken group of people, one introduced himself as snowball fight guy, Gaz, and in background I could hear Justin. The conversation was random, nothing significant said, and this marked the start of a week of early morning phone calls. My housemates were not amused. With essay deadlines looming, sleep was a necessity and the phone calls became a pain. I reluctantly, with much persuasion, gave my mobile phone number to Justin, and we began to text each other.
It is important to note at this point that I lived in a house where I was the only single girl. All my friends were in significant relationships and would spend copious amounts of time with their respective partners. I was beginning to learn to live alone for the first time. Whilst I thrived on the independence and enjoyed solitude, I was a little lonely. Having started the university on the back of an ended long term relationship, I was determined to remain single but it was hard. You see your friends sharing silly activities with their partners, such as cooking and watching bad television, and you want that intimacy and companionship. So Justin provided an interest. He was sweet, seemingly shy. Perhaps a bit laddish, but I could overlook that. I began to go around to his house, it being situated 2 doors downs. We would watch films and I would stay the night. Simply lying by his side. Nothing more. It was a month until we even kissed. We got to know each other. My feelings on sex were mentioned and he respected that I saw it as a commitment to each other. I wanted to be ready. My previous long term relationship had left me shy with someone new. After such bad experiences with men, I had the opinion that sex was an act to be shared by two people who genuinely cared for each other. I was determined to never again sleep with someone through pressure. I don’t agree with one night stands and have become almost frigid when it came to intimacy with men.
I saw nothing serious with Justin. He was classed only as a friend. He too was coming out of a long term relationship. And my distinct impression was that, whilst I knew mine was over, he still cared deeply for the loss of his. His ex girlfriend was mentioned on numerous occasions and since my opinion of him was of no great depth, I would let him chat about her.
After maybe two months, he began to ask me to be his girlfriend. I refused. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure about him. And to this day I cannot say what I was not sure about. He had shown a moody side. Nothing serious, but he would go quiet for periods of time when I was with him if I said something he did not like. I wouldn’t even be able to pinpoint what I had said, and he would offer no explanation. It would take maybe 20 minutes or so, and then he would snap out of it. Act like nothing had happens and we would carry on the night. I found it slightly embarrassing and so would not mention it either. But I knew it was strange. I had always been someone to talk things through. If something bothered me, I mentioned it.
I also go the impression that Justin wanting me as his girlfriend was more for the label. He wanted us explained, what we were, what we were doing. I can honestly say I didn’t care. We both lived individual lives; I needed no label to define us.
Past Baggage
There was also a funny atmosphere around the house. Justin housemate, Gaz was social creature and I had got to know him at the same time as Justin. I would join Gaz in his room and we would share a cigarette. Justin room was strictly non smoking and so I would cross the landing to Gaz’s for a five minute chat and fag. From the first time I met Gaz he was like my big brother. We shared the same humour and interests, and it actually was the start of a friendship that to this day I cherish. He was to become my best friend. As I said, Gaz was a social creature and his room was often to host to a group of girls he had got to know across the campus. I became to realise that Gaz was confident to most university secrets and best friends with many girls.
There was a girl named Danni who would come and visit Gaz. I picked up a funny vibe from her. Whilst all the other girls in Gaz’s room were open and friendly, she would sit and not speak to me. I was getting funny looks across the room. Not evil looks. More curious and wondering. It was only several weeks later I found out why.
My friends and I had planned a night out in our local night club and as I was paying my entrance fee, Danni approached me. She asked if I knew who she was. I replied that I knew she was a friend of Gaz, introduced myself and my housemates. She wanted to know if Justin had ever mentioned her name. I said no, and it was the truth. He had never spoken of her. She said I should ask him who she was. I simply shrugged. Presumed she was a previous crush of his. Or maybe a once prospective girlfriend. It was of no interest to me.
I have a past, you have a past, and we all have a past. And that where it should stay. I believed this firmly. If the past is still relevant, then deal with it. Maybe share it, but I was reluctant to be in the knowledge. I had not shared any thing I had been through with Justin.
I saw Justin later that night and mentioned Danni’s conversation with me. I said I was not interested in what ever her problem was. And if needs be, maybe he should speak to her. Maybe she has unresolved issues. But I specifically asked to be kept out of it. He agreed and said to ignore her. As the night wore on, and the alcohol flowed, Danni approached me again and again asked if I knew who she was. I shrugged, even asked her to join us and dance with us. I was genuinely friendly and open with her. She declined and I presumed that was the end of it.
Justin and I left the nightclub together that night, with my friends and his. It was the usual drunk walk home. And then he just disappeared. I was confused, we were all meant to be heading back to my house to order food. I tried to call his mobile. He wouldn’t answer. And then Gaz appeared. Said Justin was with Danni. And they were chatting. I asked Gaz if I should be worried, was everything alright? Gaz wouldn’t answer. Said I needed to speak to Justin.
It was maybe an hour later that Justin appeared at my house. Said he had something to say. He wanted to explain who Danni was, and why he had disappeared. I must admit, that by this point I was curious. A little worried he was about to announce they were dating perhaps. Instead, he told me that they had had a one night stand a few months back, before he knew me. And that she had got pregnant and had an abortion.
My reaction was strange. The news didn’t even shock me. This was university. Two of my housemates had had abortions. Don’t get me wrong, the thought scares the hell out of me. But unfortunately it wasn’t uncommon. My thoughts towards Danni were more pity. I told Justin that she obviously needed someone to speak to, and he should be there for her. He was surprised at my response. Perhaps he had expected tears or fireworks. But like I say, we all have a past. He had done no wrong by me and Danni was obviously struggling with what had happened. I told him to be there for her if she needed him. He promised me it had simply been a one night stand and she posed no threat. It actually made me feel closer to him. I respected his honesty.
The next few weeks we became more of a couple. He was so much fun to be around and our university end of year summer ball was looming. He asked me to be his date and I was excited. I almost bankrupted myself on the most beautiful dress. And then there were matching shoes to find, and a bag, of course. Justin and I were spending so much time with each other and we beginning to fool around. I still hadn’t slept with him. The Danni situation, whilst bringing me closer to him, had made me more adamant that I wanted to be ready and really know and trust him.
The night of the ball started brilliant. We all walked to the ball together. Justin told me I looked beautiful in my dress. The ball itself was great. Rammed with people, but so much fun. Justin and I danced most of the night, and it was only when the night drew to an end that again Justin disappeared. I found him talking to Danni in a corner. I went over and said hi. I announced I was leaving, asked Justin if he was coming. He ignored me and carried on talking. I have to admit I was hurt. We had spent a brilliant night together and I felt he was spoiling it. I left on my own. I walked back to my house and got into bed and cried. I had drunk too much and felt really neglected. There had been talk that Justin and I would maybe finally sleep together that night, because it would be special. By 3am Justin was at my door, apologising and offering the explanation that Danni had been drunk and upset. Of course I forgave him. I was being silly and he had made the effort to make things right.
Surface Appearance
So the summer holidays started and Justin and I saw each other weekly. We were now officially girlfriend and boyfriend. I was so happy. I looked forward to seeing him so much. He would catch the train to my home town and then we spend the night together. It was after a night out together that we finally slept together and it was so special. It felt totally right. There was no Danni, no one to spoil things. It was the two of us. I loved every minute I spent with him. I was falling in love in a big way. Justin had already told me he loved me, and I began to say it back. We had brilliant days out. We were so soppy together. We could lie in bed for hours just cuddling and chatting. He made me laugh so much and he was so safe. He made me feel so beautiful. He would tell me my red hair, something I hated so many years, was fantastic. He complimented my body, said it was the main thing he noticed. He told me never to change. I can say I was genuinely the happiest I have ever been. Even when he went on family holiday to America, we texted everyday. I missed him so much.
When my second year started, I practically lived with Justin for the first month. But then being back at university, things began to change. We both were going out a lot with our friends and I began to see a paranoid side to Justin. He would worry about what I was doing whilst I was out. And he began to question my trust. I got restless. Whilst I adored him, I wanted my freedom. My friends were important to me, and I still enjoyed spending time with them.
Danni began playing up and with a large group of girls behind her, I became the enemy. I became nervous about being out because I would get constantly evil looks and comments. There is only so much you can shrug off before it begins to affect you. I understood that Danni was hurt, yet I faced the aftermath of her and Justin’s mess. I also grew increasingly hurt as Justin would not defend me. He would tell me to ignore her, or even to not be silly. It even reached the stage where he accused me of imagining it. Danni took all my friends to the side throughout the term and told them what had happened and ask them to side with her, against me. Not against Justin, but me. As if I was entirely responsible.
It came to a point that I had had enough. I broke it off with Justin. He had become quite clingy, didn’t want me going anywhere and or seeing certain friends and I had had enough of being the bad person in the Danni situation. A situation I wasn’t even around for when it had happened. He had also begun name calling. Just silly comments that I was slag, comments he would instantly regret. But still, they hurt. When I broke it off with Justin, we both took it well. We stayed in contact, would still fall into the girlfriend/boyfriend act, although we were no longer dating. But then something happened. Justin got angry that I had “dumped” him. He began to play up to his singleness. Something that whilst he had the right to do, it hurt. He began to date any girl he met. He would randomly kiss girls in nightclubs in front of me. And the more I saw him with other girls, the more I realised that I wanted him for myself. I regretted giving up on us so quickly. He agreed he wanted me back, and so we again became officially girlfriend and boyfriend. But something had changed. Justin had somehow got the upper hand. Maybe he realised that I deeply cared for him. No matter, we were no longer equal and the games began.
Although we were officially dating again, when we would go out to nightclubs, Justin would act like I didn’t exist. He would chat to girls in a way that I would call inappropriate. He would buy them drinks whilst ignoring me. And then he would disappear off at the end of the night. I would always arrive home in tears. And he would never be sorry the next day. He wouldn’t contact me. I would wait all day and finally call him. Only then would he offer a half baked explanation of what had happened the previous night. Always an excuse, always my fault for ruining his night.
The more he behaved badly, the more I wanted him. Whilst this was going on I had Danni and her friends laughing at me when Justin behaved dreadfully and it became of perverse sense of honour not to let her win. I wanted my summertime Justin back. I began to miss lessons, growing increasingly bored with my work and concentrating more on being a girlfriend to Justin. I would worry about what we were doing that night, what we were having for dinner, whether I would even get to see him. And yet at the same time we were so good. We were amazing together when it was just the two of us. We would be so cuddly and have some amazing times. We could still have brilliant days out; we would shop or go to the cinema. I was still happy most of the time. And I convinced myself that more we had some good times, it was worth persevering, to bring back the old Justin. I thought things would get better. I didn’t know they could only get worse. Much worse.
Pleasure Vs Pain
The first time Justin attacked me was outside our nightclub. We had been out with our friends, and Justin had been behaving badly. He had flirted all night with a girl I did not know. He had been looking at me as he danced with her, and had even kissed her on the lips to say goodbye. We got outside the night club and I was crying. We had an argument and I stormed off. I decided to walk home the long way. Justin sent his friend Johnny to get me and bring me back. I stopped where I was and waited for Justin to come over. He was very angry when he finally walked over, accused me of making him look foolish in front of his friend. He then got nasty, said I behaved badly all night. He called me a slag, and said I had cheated on him, been with another guy all night. The accusations weren’t even logical. They were drunken ramblings.
I tried to walk away but he grabbed me, pulled my hair. He hit me round the face. I didn’t even register it. Didn’t even feel it. I was so shocked. Again, I tried to get away and he grabbed me by my breast. He had long sharp nails, through laziness of never cutting them and he ripped through my top and drew blood as he scratched and grabbed so hard. I was crying my eyes out at this point and Johnny heard me screaming and came running. He grabbed Justin and tried to pull him off me, but Justin was so angry. He was kicking my shins and stamping on my feet. Finally, Johnny got Justin away and a girl I had never seen before came over. She asked if I was ok. I was so scared I couldn’t even speak. She said she has told the bouncers and they were on their way to help. Justin was coming back over and I begged the girl to leave me, I was scared she would make him angrier. It was too late. He came storming over and asked who the hell she was. She said that she was my friend and that we were on the same course. And Justin instantly switched. He put his arm around me and said I was drunk. The bouncers came running round the corner, and Justin very calmly told them I had fallen but I was ok. My coat was covering my ripped top and I just walked away. I was so shocked and so embarrassed. This was like a bad film.
It was like I had dreamt the night before. I was cried for a day afterwards and Justin behaved like nothing had happened. He noticed the huge scratches down my chest and appeared so shocked when I said he had caused them. They got infected and turned septic and I was again so embarrassed. I couldn’t tell my friends, I was worried what they would think. And Justin was behaving like we were the perfect couple; I had my summertime Justin back. I was angry and I knew it was wrong, but I was so relieved that he was being nice again.
I am not a stupid person. I don’t come from a family where violence is accepted or used. My parents rarely even argue and my two brothers have never even fought another guy, let alone hit a girl. Yet, I stayed with Justin. I began to think that I had exaggerated the night. I had a small bruise on my shin and foot and a small red mark on my eye. The only proper injury was my chest and Justin explained that he had simply restrained me because he was scared I would run off and hurt myself and possibly be attacked walking home. The irony. Johnny was behaving like nothing had happened and even called me and Justin the “silly drunk love birds”.
The next attack came maybe a week later. Justin and I were arriving home, arguing over something small and silly. As we walked through the front door, he suddenly got angry and grabbed me by the throat and smashed my head against the wooden front door. It nearly knocked me out. I was completely dazed and confused. My housemate heard the bang, and came out of the front room and shouted at me. We had been in trouble with our neighbours for being too noisy and she thought I had slammed the door too hard. She stormed up the stairs and I began to cry. Justin was instantly nice. He convinced me that my housemate was unreasonable and a horrible person and that I should come to his house instead. I was so hurt that my housemate hadn’t realised what was happening I got angry at her. I blamed her. I can’t believe this as I type. The logic simply isn’t there. All I know was that I was so scared; yet it was like it didn’t happen. The drama that night was my housemate being mad, not Justin smashing my head against the door.
And so being attacked became a regular thing. If we argued, it would end with me getting into bed and hiding under the duvet to avoid being kicked or hit. Justin soon learnt to get around this. He would sit on me on the bed and strangle me until I choke, then as I would lean forward to gasp for air he would slam my head against either the wall or the head board. It got to the point that I would slam my own head against the wall when he was strangling me to make it stop quicker. He would then either leave and not speak to me for days where upon I would become desperate that he no longer wanted me. Or he would stay and act like I was being a drama queen. He used to call these violent outbursts our arguments. Like they were a normal part of ending an argument.
I began to drink a lot. I stopped going out so much with my friends and I began to withdraw from everyone. I stopped confiding anything in my friends and would lie to myself and everyone else that we were blissfully happy. I would not even spend time with people for fear that they would question the bangs and screams coming from my room or the bruises. I became paranoid and suspicious. I thought that all my friends hated me too. I lost all confidence in myself. Justin had taken to calling me a slag and whore on a daily basis. He told me that my elder brother, who I had always been close to, was a loser and that he was a cheat and didn’t care for me. Justin told me he had heard rumours that Gaz was slagging me off behind my back and that everyone thought I was strange looking and ugly. He told me his friends couldn’t understand why he was with someone like me when he was so much better looking. He made feel like I could do no better.
If I put on a new outfit or make up, or a short skirt, he would accuse me of cheating or say that I looked stupid. If any of my housemates had male friends round then I would get in trouble and be accused of flirting with them or fancying them. I was not allowed to sit in my front room if my housemate had a boyfriend round and Justin was not there. There was even a time when two men from the council came to our house with a noise complaint. They asked that only the four girls that lived in the house were present and Justin sat in my room for the time they were there. He later accused me of flirting with them and would not speak to me for the rest of the night.
Things really came to a head for that year when my elder brother came down to visit. I had fought for him to come and visit me with Justin for a good two weeks. He was venomously apposed to it and went between begging me not to have him down, to threatening to not speak to me if he did come. In the end I thought we had compromised. My brother Will came down and I practically ignored him to keep Justin happy. I invited Justin out with us and persuaded Will to lend Justin money. It was a horrible night. Justin was clever when it came to being in front of my friends. He would kiss me and hug me and we put on a brilliant front as a couple. But in my ear he would be criticising my every move, my outfit and my actions. I felt awful. I drank so much.
On our way home Justin and I fell behind everyone. He really began laying into me, I can’t even remember what about. Anything and everything. My brother had walked off at this point and I simply sat down and cried. Justin tried to drag me, first by my arms then by my hair. I got up and ran off. I hid for what seemed like ages in someone’s front garden and Justin walked off. As I was hiding I heard my brother’s voice and so I started to run towards, but fell on a curb and twisted my ankle. The pain was unbelievable and I couldn’t move. My brother cane running over and after looking at the tennis ball size lump forming on my ankle, called an ambulance. He called Justin’s phone and as the ambulance turned up, Justin appeared. Will and Justin joined in me in the ambulance and I passed out due to alcohol and pain holding Will’s hand. My first mistake. I woke when the ambulance pulled up outside the hospital and called out Will’s name. My second mistake. He was simply the first person I focused on. Will had work in the morning and so left me in supposedly safe hands of the hospital with Justin by my side. I was given crutches and beautifully strong painkillers by the doctors and sent home.
It was once we got home that Justin showed his anger. He was furious that I had held Will’s hand and I was called every name under the sun. He was angry that he couldn’t sleep next to me properly on the bed because my ankle needed to be raised. The next three days I was bedridden were awful. Justin had run out of money and so borrowed some from me. He used my injury as a chance to go out with his friends. He wouldn’t text me or call me and I was hearing endless rumours from my friends about what he was getting up to when he was out. I was becoming frantic and paranoid. He had taken to hiding his phone and keeping it on silent. I had never previously even considered it was fair to look through it or check it, but as I lay in my bed, I got more and more suspicious.
I believe so firmly in privacy. I think that somebody’s phone is there own property and the thought of going through it makes me feel ill. It’s such an invasion. But I began to back down about my own morals. I was so ashamed of myself but I went through his phone anyway. It was awful. He had been texting so many random girls and the messages all implied Justin and I were over and he was single. I was devastated and I confronted him. He had an excuse for it all and I was so desperate to believe him I let him tell me lies and I pretended to myself I believed his stories. He claimed that when I was injured he had not known how to cope because I was behaving like a weak person. Unbelievably I was touched that he thought me to be strong and I found myself promising to never show such weak behaviour again.
Writing this now, it’s like I was brain washed. I was so terrified of losing him, so scared that I could not live without him. Amongst all the violence and naming calling we could still have the best times. If Justin was nice, I felt on top of the world. If he complimented me I was so happy. He could make me feel like the most beautiful, smart woman in the world. Yet when he turned nasty, I barely wanted to leave my bed. I genuinely believed that I would never find someone else. And that no one would ever want me. I struggled to believe that the shy, cute, lovely guy that I had met the year before was this monster.
I had lost my previously close friendships with my friends, and whilst I cannot lay all the blame at Justin’s feet, I can honestly say he contributed to the breakdown. I was paranoid and suspicious. I had no trust in anyone. I believe that Justin was the only person who truly cared for me, and without him, I was nothing.
The End Of Something?
The year ended and my studies were in tattered. I had stopped attending lessons, missed all my exams and had done no work. We went into the summer a supposedly happy, carefree couple. I returned to my previous employer a wreck.
I had begun to lie to everyone about how happy we were. When my bosses noticed finger bruising around my neck I laughed it off as a wrestling match accident. Everything was fine of course. When I was late for work and turned up with a bloody nose, I laughed it off as oversleeping and banging my head on my bedside table. The truth being that Justin had punched my face because I had answered my phone when he was talking to me.
I couldn’t sleep at night and so therefore couldn’t get up in the morning. I was permanently on edge. Justin had learnt a new trick of ignoring me for days on end, leaving me completely frantic and jumping at any noise vaguely telephone like. When I would visit him at his house, he would tell his parents far fetched stories about me. Claiming I was a snob, or up my self. He would lie about my parents, say they looked down on him and hated him. His mum would take the mickey out of my accent, and despite my protestations would tease me about being rich and well to do.
The truth behind it being that, yes I live in a fair size house and I do not go without. But my parents started their own business some years ago, and because of various set backs have not been successful. They struggle to pay the mortgage and hang on to the house. I pay my own university accommodation and anything I want, I am expected to earn the money for. The worse part was that Justin knew all of this. My parents are the most down to earth people you could meet. And the permanent joke in my house is that dad looks like a scruffy farmer! The idea that my parents would look down on anyone is unbelievable. My mum would give Justin lifts to and from university, and would always offer him dinner and kindness if he came over.
And yet he managed to make me question everything. That summer I stopped being allowed out with my friends. And there was no way I was allowed out with my brother. I would make excuses for this, never telling anyone I was forbidden. And if I did on the odd occasion persuade Justin to let me go out, I was expected to text every twenty minutes or so. My nights out became a chore and yet at the same time Justin was out almost every weekend.
It broke my heart the first night I saw him out with his friends. It was a completely chance, but I was with my friends in my home town of Croydon and he and his friends had ended up in a club there too. It was 2am and the clubs were shutting. My friends and I were walking back to the car when I saw Justin, his friend and two girls on the other side of the road. They were obviously paired up, and I ran across the street to confront Justin. He saw me and ran away leaving me to face his friend and the two girls. They all looked at me with such pity. I was so humiliated and ashamed. I walked all the way home, leaving my friends behind, desperately calling his mobile. He didn’t answer until midday the next day. I was so hurt. I insisted on seeing him and we met up outside his house. It took him maybe half an hour to persuade me I was being paranoid and that he had done nothing wrong. I was so relieve he could offer any explanation that we made up.
I stayed the night with him at his house and the following day I woke up crying and upset. I wanted reassurance any that nothing had happened but he got mad. He kicked me in my stomach and I fell on the floor. Then he punched me round the head and arms until I apologised for questioning him. I learnt to accept not to question or seek reassurance unless it was offered. Remind anyone of dog training?
Towards the end of the summer Justin had begun to ignore me for days on end again. I was becoming increasingly miserable and even when we were together and I would have previously been happy before, now I couldn’t stop crying. He finally put me out of my misery three weeks before the start of a new university year. He called me but wouldn’t speak. I asked if he wanted to be with me and after maybe three or four minutes he finally said no. That was it; he wouldn’t speak to me again. I would call him ten or fifteen times a days. I was a desperate fool, unable to accept he didn’t want me. I stop eating completely. I couldn’t put food in my mouth without heaving. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. If anyone started a conversation with me, I walked away. I avoided my friends and spent a solid week in bed. When university term started I missed my fresher week but much to my amazement began to look forward to returning to university and seeing my friends. I was dreading bumping into Justin but I knew I would be ok eventually.
I think that in those few short weeks, despite the agony of Justin not talking to me, I began to get stronger. I realised that I could do normal things with out the butterfly feeling inside my tummy. And I began to realise that we hadn’t had a normal relationship. I missed him terribly but I think it began to dawn on me that he could be horrid and mean, and whilst I missed him, there was a lot I didn’t mean. Just the space of him not being there gave me back some strength. My life was in no way normal again, and my head felt a mess, but there was a little ray of light inside that made me remember my friendships at university and the good times I had once had there.
A New Year, A New Me?
I came to university a wreck. I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t eat, I had no concentration but I was determined that I would complete my second year. The first day of lectures I was walking across campus when Justin saw me. He came chasing after me and said he was worried. He said I look ill and very thin and that he would take me to his and let me sleep in his arms then he would make me my favourite dinner. For the first time I was cautious. He had hurt me so badly. But he was insistent. He bombarded me with texts and calls. He came to house and said he loved me, couldn’t live without me. After a week I relented. I was so happy to have him back and he seemed determined to make it work. I had a permanent tiredness aching inside me, and my head knew that taking him back wasn’t the right thing; my body simply didn’t have the energy to fight it.
Within a few days, everything was the same as before, yet worse. He would not answer the phone if I called him, would go out all the time. He admitted he had been with other girls whilst we were apart and refused to stop contacting them now we were together again.
Almost instantly my work began to suffer again and I began to feel very strange. Some days I couldn’t physically get out of bed. I was permanently tired and it was an effort to even answer the phone. I began to take prescribed super strength sleeping pills mixed with vodka in order to sleep for a few hours. The third week into term whilst I was at Justin’s house for the night I began to bleed. I thought at first I had got my period but it was a lot heavier than that and it wouldn’t stop. I ruined my pyjamas and Justin was angry when I woke to wake him to ask for some boxer shorts to borrow. He said I was disgusting and asked me to go home. I went and sat in my shower for an hour to try and stop it.
It began to dawn on me that I hadn’t had my period for maybe two months. I was meant to be on the pill but was rarely taking it. I managed to get an appointment with the nurse the following morning and after a pregnancy test she confirmed that I was most likely suffering a miscarriage. She booked me in with the doctor, but I was so scared I simply went home and get into bed for the next week. I told Justin and he was fantastic. He cuddled me all night and cried. I was too shocked to even cry. It was weird, I was sad; I had lost something I didn’t even know I had to begin with.
By the following afternoon Justin’s attitude had changed. He had told his friends and they said I was a liar. They told him it was a ploy to keep him, and that there was no way it was true. Of course he believed them. He called me desperate and said it was a pathetic attempt to keep him.
It was the following week that his anger came out. I had been out to a nightclub with my friends. I decided to not bother to deal with what had happened, if Justin didn’t believe it, neither would I. I set about drinking my way to forgetfulness. When Justin found out I had been out for the night, him and his friend turned up at my house as I arrived home. He kicked the door in and gathered my three male housemates in the front bedroom and set about threatening them. He told them to never speak to me or come near me or he would kill them. When I tried to stop him, I was dragged away by hair. He then pushed me into the kitchen and proceeded to grab me by the throat and bang my head against the kitchen cupboards. He picked up a metal chair and threatened to smash it around my face. It was then that his friend came in as Justin put the chair down and slapped me. His housemate was “outraged” at him hitting a girl. He was so mad he stormed out and left me with Justin. I later found out that Justin had let him into my bedroom and allowed him to take DVD’s and Cd’s from there.
One of the neighbours by this point had called campus security and they arrived. They simply presumed that me and Justin were having an argument and asked him to leave. They took him to the side and had a quiet word with him. When security left Justin told me that I was not allowed to stay in my house either and that I should come with him. I was drunk, exhausted and scared, I simply believed him.
This was three weeks into term. I was a mess already. I was slipping into a deep depression. I was barely sleeping and I had lost nearly two stone in weight. All of my housemates moved out the following week without telling me and a new set moved in. Justin took this as a chance to return to my house as no one would recognise and I was too tired to argue it.
It was towards the end of the first term, near Christmas, that I began to realise the extent that Justin had cheated on me. He had checked his emails on my laptop and left his account open. He left to go to a lecture and I am not proud to it admit, but I check them. I found out that from the beginning Justin had been lying. The situation with Danni had gone on for so long because he had been chasing her behind my back and pretending he wanted a relationship with her. When he had gone on holiday that first summer to America, he had had a holiday fling and was in regular contact with the girl through email. He had dated many girls behind my back throughout our time together. Everything was a lie.
I was absolutely devastated. I went home for the holidays and barely made it a week before returning to Canterbury. I simply wanted to be alone and I knew everybody would have gone home for Christmas. I spent a week alone, drunk. I refused to answer my phone to my family and it was only when my mum sent my dad to pick me up on Christmas Eve that I came home. By News year’s eve, Justin had persuaded me that he was sorry and I can honestly say I didn’t forgive him but I didn’t argue. I simply didn’t care anymore. I was still not sleeping or eating and I had stopped speaking to all my friends. I spent News Years Eve with Justin, him totally ignoring me, whilst we watched TV and I simply cried all night. I later got punched in the face, a supposed accident, for being so miserable and embarrassing him in front of his parents.
Everything blurs into one at this point. The next term was awful. I knew I had been cheated on, I knew that Justin didn’t even want me, but he wouldn’t let me go. I was the most unhappy I had ever been. But I couldn’t see a way out. People always question why I stayed with him for so long. But he could still be so nice. It’s like he could sense when I was beginning to break and would swoop in and make a new kind gesture. We would go for a meal, or he would buy me a present. And I would be so relieved and grateful that my misery could finally be over. It never was.
I found out about Justin’s Students bar just after Valentines Day. (The university equivalent of Face Book) He had been out in clubs and meeting young freshers and pretending he was single. His friends group was made up solely of these girls. Again, I was devastated. The final straw came when he announced that he would not be around for my birthday. He had booked the time off work, but because of my ‘behaviour’ and ‘unreasonableness’ he had offered to work anyway. I had been put on anti depressants at this point and was two weeks into them when the side effects hit.
The week prior to my birthday whilst Justin was back in London, I experienced a major panic attack. He would not answer his phone and I convinced myself sitting alone in my room that he had been in an accident. My head was not right. I walked to the train station and attempted to get the train back to London. I managed to get to London Bridge before a second, more severe panic attack hit, and I got off the train in the middle of a rough area of London and attempted to walk home. It was by sheer fluke and unbelievable bad luck that at that exact point Justin drove past me as I was walking the streets. His friend had picked him up from work and they were randomly driving around. They saw me and I explained my panic attack and my fear, and he and his friends sat in the car and began laughing at me. It was a breaking point for me. I called my mum and asked her to pick me up and began to plan my suicide.
I gave Justin another chance and the following Thursday, two days before my birthday, we had another row and ended up with my fingers smashed in a drawer and my head slammed against a desk. He then threw tea all over my bedroom ruining my clothes.
Precious Life
I went to the shop and brought a litre of vodka, 2 large packets of Neurofen, a packet of aspirin, and a packet of paracetemol. I went to a phone box and called Justin. It was almost like one finally chance for him to make things right. I told him I couldn’t go on, that I had reached breaking point. He told me he was busy, said for me to grow up and go away. I then went to a quiet park with a bench in town and took it all. I sat there for maybe two and half hours with no effect. I felt dizzy and had stomach cramps but nothing more. It was then I began to think about my family. I wanted to talk to my mum and my dad. I didn’t want to say anything in particular. No goodbyes or anything tacky, just wanted to talk to them. So I called them and ended up confessing what I had done, I felt too bad, my mum sounded so worried and I realised that I couldn’t do it to her. Within half an hour she had got my friends to pick me up and her and my dad had turned up to take me home.
To this day it baffles me as to why what I took had no effect. Perhaps my body had simply grown accustomed to drugs and alcohol through all the sleeping pills and vodka I had been abusing the last few months, I shall never know. I was violently sick a day later but that was the only outcome. I survived what I took, much to my disappointment and everyone else’s relief.
I later found out that Justin had gone to a nightclub that night with his friends with not a thought to me. He hadn’t bothered to contact anyone to make sure I was ok.
Within a week, despite what had happened, I had forgiven him. He wrote me a letter and promised me things would be different. After my suicide attempt, nothing had changed. My parents had tried to get me help through the doctor, but the waiting lists were endless and I really wasn’t interested. The only person who could make it better seemed to be Justin. I relied on him entirely.
He spent the next two weeks making a massive effort and I really begun to believe that he had changed. Then the caginess started again. He would not sign on to the internet when I was around and he would turn his phone off. I knew he was cheating. And yet I stayed. It simply hurt too much to deal with it. I made one attempt to check his laptop but he entered the room as I lifted the lid and caught me. He slammed the laptop down on my hand so hard that he smashed the screen on it and then threw me against the wall so hard I had a lump on my head. My fingers were swollen for a week and I couldn’t bend one of them. I had to then accept responsibility for the smashed screen, although I am proud to say I never gave in to paying for it to be replaced.
It was during this period that I began to question why no one cared. Campus security had been called to my house and his on about six occasions because of his shouting and my screaming. Every time they came it was noted as a couple arguing and no action was taken. They nicknamed Justin the guy at number 14 who hits his girlfriend. Like the situation was funny. They offered to call the police, but I was too scared. Campus security always seemed reluctant to get involved and in a hurry to get away.
Whilst at Justin’s house he would attack me and I would scream the house down and no one would help or even mention it. There was an occasion when at 4am at Justin’s house that he asked me to leave and I refused. I was so tired and he had been out and had asked me to wait up for him. He arrived home drunk and decided he didn’t want to see me. When I refused to leave he dragged into the hall way and dragged me down the stairs. I was pushed down eight stairs, hit my head and landed on my ankle. He was not even sorry. I was screaming my head off with pain and crying my eyes out. His housemates, who were still awake, did not even step out of their rooms to see what was happening.
Self Harm For Beginners
It was this night that I began to self harm. I hated myself. I couldn’t see any way out. I couldn’t live without Justin yet I hated him. But more than my hate for him was my hate for me. I begun to take razor blades and slice my wrists. It felt so good to have some control over who hurt me. I didn’t feel that I had the right to be happy anymore. I knew that no one else would ever date me and that without the love of Justin I was nothing.
When Justin found out what I was doing, he again called me desperate and pathetic. He said it was attention seeking, despite the fact that I hid it from everyone for months. He had decided months ago that depression was a fake illness and that it was simply in my head. He said it meant I was weak and that perhaps I did not deserve to live.
The second time I self harmed was when he decided that I was a cheat and not to be trusted. He ordered me to give him my laptop passwords and phone pin number. He then went through everything in my room. He found a conversation on my laptop from months ago when a male friend from my first year had attempted to speak to me. I hadn’t even replied, yet Justin lost his temper. He took my cigarette from my hand and burnt me and my bed sheets with it. I was so upset I tried to hide in my bed as he strangled me and smash my head against the wall. I was hysterically crying and saying I couldn’t go on. It was at this point that he began to tease me. His claimed my depression and my pathetic attempts at faking an illness were stupid and he grabbed a bottle of night nurse from my desk. He poured half of it out, added vodka to the rest of the bottle and emptied sixteen Neurofen into it. He then told me if my illness was so bad, I would swallow what he had made. And I did. I had no reason to live and it was almost like I wanted to prove how miserable I felt. At which point I got attacked again for being so stupid. He stormed out and I finished the vodka and passed out.
Self harming became a regular thing for me. I began to do it at least once a week. It made me feel better. But at this point people began to notice. Rumours of Justin’s violence and cheating were becoming the talk of not only my friends, but others who vaguely knew either me or Justin. My closest friend finally noticed my wrists and took action. She moved me into her house and for a week I stayed there. It was one of the best weeks of that term. I was away from campus, with no telephone. I had developed a phobia about noises such as telephones ringing and even the sound of banging would make me jump as I associated it with Justin throwing stones at my window to let me know he was there.
I began to see through Justin’s games, his attempts at controlling me. And I began to take back the power. I began to look to the future and in none of my dreams, with my big house, my four children, and my beautiful shoes, could I see my husband returning from work and smashing my head against a wall. Whilst I was nowhere near strong enough to give him up, or even begin to think about not needing him, I began to accept that at some point we would be over. And it gave me hope. I looked forward to the times when Justin would ignore me for days. And became weirdly grateful for the other girls he showed interest in, because it took the pressure off me. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like hell. But I was learning to deal with the hurt and the pain numbed after a while.
There were still setbacks. My announcement that I was going out for a friends birthday was met with my head being smashed so hard against a plug on a wall that I lost consciousness. But unbelievably I was determined to go out anyway. I will be forever grateful to the friends that carried me home and put me to bed when the concussion kicked in and I passed out. It was this support from my friends and the fact that they would let me stay with them for sometimes weeks on end that led me to begin telling people the truth. I slowly began to tell people small segments of the hell I had been through and the shocked reactions I received every time a memory came out, was enough to make me realise just how wrong my relationship was.
A big turning point for me was a night in our local nightclub. Justin had accused me of looking at other men and had told me I had no right to be there. He had told me to go home and was shouting at me and had me pinned against a wall when a guy walked past. This was a guy who had previously approached me and asked for me phone number a few months earlier. I had of course refused; for fear of firstly Justin finding out and secondly my self confidence was so low I didn’t believe he had meant it. When this guy Jamie walked past me he simply asked if I was alright. But he called me by name. I had told him it months before. At this point Justin lost his temper. He chased after the guy and threw his drink over him and pushed him. His friends broke it up and demanded that I took him home and stopped winding him up.
When we got home, Justin confiscated my phone. He deleted every male in my phonebook and signed into my msn account and interrogated every man online. He then strangled me so hard I stop breathing for a second. I had to bite him to get him off me. When I would afterwards point out the scar I left on his shoulder from biting him so hard, he would claim I was a psycho who had attacked him with no provocation.
However, it was a big amazement to me when I later saw the guy Jamie and apologised to him. He was so kind and nice about what had happened. By this point my faith in people was gone and I was expecting him to be angry or simply ignore me. He was genuinely fine and said there was no need to apologise. He even offered his email address and said he would keep in contact. I now class him as a friend and he will never understand what he did, he gave me back an inch of faith in men at a point when I had none.
The year was coming to end and it was becoming clear that my relationship was Justin was dead. I no longer felt ashamed of what had happened and began to realise that I was a victim of a situation I couldn’t have stopped. Yes, I could have left him; I could have been stronger and walked away. I should have cut it off the first time he attacked me. But that is very easy to say. It doesn’t take into account the feelings of embarrassment and how isolated I felt.
