Picture the scene. A 25-year-old woman sits in a police station, trembling with nerves. The officer opposite her is an older woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. It isn't a scene anyone wants to relive, but I relive it every day.
Yes, that woman is me, and on the 8th May I sat in the police station and reported my ex-partner for emotional abuse, obtaining audio files without my consent, and sexual coercion. That last part has now been escalated to a rape charge following advice from the authorities. It's been a horrendous 8 days since, but I now feel ready to tell my story. Whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you.
I met my ex on 9th December 2015, and to begin with we were friends. I was going through a court case for custody of my son, and he was recently single. We didn't initially intend to get together, but on 17th February 2016 we did. For six months, we were happy and he was all I ever dreamed of - funny, kind, charming, supportive and loyal. However, in August 2016 that changed. I was at work that fateful day, when I got a message from him stating that we needed to talk. The details of that night will remain private, but it started a horrifying chain reaction that would last until 7th April 2017.
Every month there would be a massive argument in which he'd scream that he wanted to leave and never see me again, but then stay. I wound up walking on eggshells just to avoid an argument, giving in to whatever he demanded of me to keep the peace - even to the extent of isolating myself from most of my friends - and pretending to be happy so that people didn't ask questions. When he had sex with me, I was always either facing the wall/door or on my front, and until January 2017 that was consensual. It wasn't ideal, but it functioned. We spent Christmas together and I thought we were going to be able to work things out. How wrong I was.
In January 2017, we split up. I did not take the breakup well and begged him to remain "friends with benefits", which was a mistake. A few weeks later, I realised that the situation wasn't working and wanted to leave. However, because I'd become trapped in a rut of begging him to stay, I feared repercussions if I asked to leave, and so I stayed quiet. I kept up the pretense of enjoying what was happening, and I didn't tell anyone that the sex was no longer consensual because I didn't verbally say no - I used non-verbal cues such as pushing him away, going rigid, not responding etc.
Things degenerated further until April 7th, when we argued for the last time. By that point I was so emotionally and mentally broken that he could have done anything he wanted to me and I wouldn't have fought back. What followed was a month of hatred, threats of the police, arguing on both sides and general vitriol before I finally screwed up my courage and walked into the police station to report the abuse.
So how do I feel now? Well, I'll be honest. I'm broken in more ways than I could have ever imagined. I've had to find a way to get my head around the fact that I was raped for three months of my life. I am now in therapy for the damage he caused, and I am pathologically terrified of having sex with anyone. I am wary, cynical, defensive and I've turned from an open-hearted girl into a bitter, angry woman. When I think about what happened to me I am baffled because it simply makes no sense - how could the man I once loved have turned into such a monster? I can't face what happened because it hurts me to think that I fell for a monster.
Do I still love him? Absolutely not, despite having been accused of it. I don't love him - I hate him. I hate him for hurting me and betraying me, and I hate him for stealing the part of me that was most precious to me. I hate him for violating my body in a way that has left me forever broken. I am angry because I trusted him with my body, my soul, and my mind - and he broke every last piece of what I had to offer. I wasn't entirely blameless, and I never pretend to be, but I always loved him with everything I had. My only mistake was giving him everything and expecting nothing in return.
As for what I've learned ... well, I now know not to trust easily. I know to guard my heart fiercely and only let my walls down when I feel safe. I know that if I trust someone, I have to be sure that I won't regret it. And I know that the last 3 years of hell will never happen again because I won't let it happen again. I have shed so many tears and doubted my own sanity, and I will never hurt that badly again.
Now I know there are people out there who'll believe my ex when he proclaims his innocence, and there are those who'll believe me. Frankly, I don't care if people believe me or not. I know what happened, and I know the truth. The rest, as they say, is up to karma.
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