Just Left My Domestic Partner

by Megan
(London, England)

Saw a post from a girl that wrote her story about her domestic violence relationship and I thought I'd share mine to help these girls that are trying to leave.

I met him when I was 13, and he was 15. I fell in love straight away, and he was my first kiss, my first everything. We were going out with my friends and his, we were a big group. We were always together every Saturday and Sunday and continuously on the phone when we weren't together. We fell for each other very quickly and very young age. Then I started going into his house, met his family, and they took me in with open arms, I fell in love with them. He had the big family I always wanted.

After six months we broke up, he started going out with my friend, and it made me very jealous, and he knew that; but after a couple of weeks we got back together, and it got even more intense. He wouldn't want to go out with my friends; he just wanted to me to go round his house every Saturday and Sunday. We hadn't had sex together at this point though or anything apart from a kiss. All we did was lie on his bed and watch films or go for a walk on the canal or go to the skate park so he could graffiti with his mates.

My mates started to argue with me and tell me I shouldn't be with him because he would say things like one of them tried it with him or something like that, but apparently, I took his word and believed him. In the end, they just never invited me out or never spoke to me unless it was in school.

Then we slept together after being together for 11 months, I was 14, and he was 16. I told my mum that we were sleeping together and she stopped me from seeing him so I used to bunk school, run away so that I could see him. I loved him, and he was my world. I didn't care about school, only him. Then after four months my mum and dad caved in and said I'm only allowed to see him again is as if I went on the implant, so I agreed and then I was back to see him every Saturday Sunday, but it wasn't enough he had to see me after school as well.
He would convince me to bunk school and go to his house and be with him. In the end, I would keep running away cause I just wanted to be with him 24/7.

Then one day he was walking me to the train station, and we got into a row because a boy from school had texted me about homework. He went to kiss me goodbye but bite my lip so hard it bled. I ran crying. He caught up with me and pushed me against the wall and punched me in the face. I was so shocked and scared I couldn't even cry I just sank to the floor thinking what had happened. I got up screaming and just ran, he threw my phone and a brick wall, and it shattered into pieces, luckily that was a phone that broke anyway. So I got away, and I phoned my mate on my contract phone and got her to meet me, I rang his mum and told her, and she said to come back to the house and that he wasn't there.

So my friend took me back, and he was there. I cried and cried. My left side jaw swoll and my bottom lip bled. His mum and dad had a go at him, and I complained to him asked why and he said he was sorry and that he got jealous. We made up, and in the end, I felt sorry for him, and I felt guilty because I made him feel jealous somehow.

After a time the hitting turned into punches, punches turned into kicking, then turned into baseball bats, arms bells, anything he could get his hands. He would always punch my head and face, so it was regularly visible, I could never hide it.

It was so embarrassing because everyone knew what he was doing in school, everyone started to hate me because I was staying with him. I still had my friends, but even they wouldn't get why I stayed with him. The teachers were involved, SS, the school police officer in keeping an eye on me.

He would say I would get raped and try and show me how I would get assaulted by doing it on me. I would scream and scream, but somehow his mum didn't hear me. There was a time when he would not stop punching my head, and I would pretend to pass out so he would cease, but that never stopped him.

I got pregnant three times with him, and each time I lost the baby. Once because he punched me in the stomach and the rest I don't know why. Then on my 17th birthday I finally had enough, he beat me up again... with a sky remote and a broomstick and beat me once more at the train station. I called the police and took him to court, and he pleaded guilty.

Then after a good few months, we started talking about us, but we wouldn't see each other or anything. Then after time, we would see each other, but my abuser would come to my house instead of me going to him, but with my mum not being here, as she would have killed him. During these times he was more grown up, and he only hit me a handful of times maybe.

Then on Good Friday 2015, I found out I was pregnant, I was 20. I wanted this baby; I had already lost 3. I couldn't abort this baby. So I rang him and told him, and he came to my house and said he would stand by me whatever. So I thought over it to make sure, and I didn't want to tell him yet what I wanted. After a couple of weeks, I told him. Everything was fine, we got back together, and I started going back to his house again.

After 6-7 weeks of being back together, we got into a row, and he told me he was going to stab me in the belly and put petrol threw my letterbox. Then after a few weeks of him non stop calling/ texting me I forgave him. I didn't realise I was getting myself back into domestic abuse. I still loved him.

Then at seven months pregnant, we got into a massive row. We were at my house. He smashed my bedroom up, threw things over the balcony, told me he wished the baby would die. Pushed me, hit me, kicked me. I started to get severe pains in my stomach, I asked him to call an ambulance, and he said no. He wanted me to let whatever was wrong or might have been happening to stay that way.

I left the house in my pj's and called the police, and they came. He locked me out of my own home. He went out the fire escape, so the police had to knock my door down. The ambulance came and took me to the hospital. Everything was fine. The police brought my new set of keys to the hospital, and they had to put new locks on. The law enforcement officers even tidied the flat for me.

After a few weeks I got back with him, then I got the phone call that every mother dreads getting. I got a call from social services telling me they're worried about mine and my baby's safety.

I had my baby then I had to go into a mum and baby parenting assessment unit. I wasn't allowed out, and I wasn't allowed to do anything with my baby. They watched every single feed, nappy change, bath, bottle making, even during the night they would come to watch me. They had to scrutinise me every time I played with him, enjoyed tummy time, or put him in his baby swing. Anything I did they wanted to know and observe. I couldn't bond with my baby at all. I even started to smoke again in there because it was the only bit of sanity I would get by going out in the garden and just having that relaxing feeling.

Then I had to choose, my baby or him.

I couldn't do it, and I love my baby more than anything. I wanted my baby; he was mine. I couldn't live without my baby, but I always couldn't live without him.

In the end, they made there mind up and said I couldn't leave him and even if I did then I wouldn't get into another domestic relationship. Once I knew I wasn't going home with my baby. I'd had enough. I was worn out and drained. I couldn't cope. I wasn't happy, and neither was my baby.

My baby got taken off on 4th March 2016. My child went to live with my boyfriend's sister and has been there since. She has now obtained a guardianship order on him. I see him every week at her house for 3-4 hours.

I went back to him, and my family didn't want to know me.

He cheated the whole time I was in the unit which was 12 weeks. He still carried on with the hitting, punching, and making me feel like no human should. There was a time when we had to go to court to sign our baby over, but he didn't want to go. And so, that morning I said I'm going with my mum. He came over to me and hit me around the head with a hairspray can. My head was pouring of blood, and he didn't care. I got my things together and tried to leave. He took my phone, and he wouldn't give it back. He punched me in the stomach, hit me numerous times in the head, and dragged me by my hair into the sitting room. Whenever I tried to fight back, it made him worse. He got me on the floor and grabbed my head and smashed my head on the wooden floor probably 6-7 times. God knows how I didn't get knocked out. I got up, and he threw my phone. I grabbed it and ran out the door. He followed me. Everyone was stopping me because I was in tears and had blood all down my face. I ran to his sister's house, as I was meant to be seeing my baby that morning. I couldn't even hold him; I was in so much pain and felt so weak. I ended up taking an overdose because I couldn't do it anymore.

At the end after months and months of putting up with what I have and the way he treats my baby and me, I have left. Finally, I realised that my baby and I deserve better than his abuse. I am currently working on going back to court and getting my baby back home.

I've shared this because I don't want any other girls going through what I have over a silly insecure little boy. Boys that hit you will always beat you; they won't ever stop. Once it's in them, then it's stuck. It's like once a cheat, always a cheat.

I know I will get judged on this, and I've had it all before, but this post isn't for sympathy or judgement. It's purely to help girls that are going through domestic abuse.

Girls, please be careful and leave. I know it's easier said than done but the sooner you go, the sooner you will be happy.

💜💜💜💜💜