Unhappy woman in an abusive relationship

31st December 2016


Dinner went from bad to worse. Surprise, surprise!! Not that I should have been anticipating anything else. Does he deliberately try to hurt me or does he just always manage to put his foot in it?

The madras and pilau rice was nice, but I was too nauseated to eat much. It was more a case of pushing food around the plate. It certainly didn’t help that he kept going on about all his previous conquests. Apparently he’s slept with over 50 women (though I’m not sure I believe him). He even jokingly rated some of them from poor to pro in bedroom skills. Of course his baby mama is a 9.5 out of 10, which is why he stayed with her for so long.

Does he not realise the amount of anxiety this is causing me? I’m a blank slate – I haven’t really done anything of count. It’s only a matter of time before he rates me a zero and tells all his friends. My hands feel like I have a swarm of ants crawling over them and everywhere’s really hot – the central heating is too high.  He says he’s shared many dirty pics with other women and they’ve been happy to reciprocate. I am the most boring girlfriend he has had to date, since I’m not adventurous or daring enough. He was seriously considering breaking up with me, to cut all ties with me before the new year to start afresh, but decided to give me another chance. Also, he does prefer not to date virgins – he prefers to ‘hit the ground running’ so he says, but has made an exception for me. He really does sound like an arrogant pr*ck!!

I should start afresh and cut ties with him for the new year. He’s already on his 3rd can of lager – so much for making this a night to remember. It’s an absolute joke!!

Right now I’m in the bathroom sort of pretending that I need to puke (well I’m almost there, but not quite there yet – I’ll control my nerves and emotions as much as I can), so he’s left me to my own thoughts for the time being.

The night isn’t over yet and I’ve already had to make multiple entries in my diary. That’s not good.

Not good at all.

I’ll call a cab and go home. I don’t care about the expense – I’ve absolutely have had enough. With any luck he’ll now be too drunk to notice!



I took my bag up to the bathroom, where I made my last diary entry, but my mobile wasn’t in there. It couldn’t have just disappeared!! I’m not careless – I can nearly always account for all  my possessions. I wasn’t sure if Marcus had taken it out of my bag or not. That’s an awful accusation, but he could have just to make sure I couldn’t go anywhere. I know I left home with it.

I heard him on the phone, speaking to his baby mama yet again. I was annoyed he didn’t even show enough concern to check up on me, but glad I was given space to think. I snuck down the stairs, grabbed my coat and overnight bag and quietly tried to open the front door, resolving to collect my phone (wherever it was) another time. It was locked!!! The key wasn’t left in the hallway. Doesn’t he know to keep they key as close to the front door as possible in case of an emergency? My attempted escape was an emergency. He must have had it on him. I had no choice but to put my overnight bag and coat down where they were previously and re-enter the dining room.

He ended his call when he saw me re-enter the room and I asked him (in a non-accusatory voice as I could manage) whether he had seen my phone. He just laughed smugly and said it was in his car. I told him that I should retrieve it since it might make his car a target, but he said it would be safe since it was switched off and in his dashboard. I can’t believe he did that!



Did his two stooges help him??

Am I really that unobservant??

He saw the outrage in my face, so he added matter-of-factly that there should be no need for phones and other types of communication with others since the night should just be about the two of us!

The hypocrite!!

Things could have been so different.

I should have demanded that he unlock the door so that I could leave. I didn’t.

I should have demanded that he hand me back my phone then and there, so I could call a cab. I didn’t.

He can read me like a book.

Things happened so fast.

He said that I was working myself up for no reason.

He said I should relax more.

He said that pain was a necessary part of change and that I wouldn’t progress unless I was willing to expand my limits.

Using personal development advice against me – PERVERTING IT!!

He tried to kiss me but I was having none of it so I shoved him away. He asked if I was going to disappoint him. But instead of waiting for the answer, he lunged at me again and tried to kiss me, but more forcefully. He was ready for me when I tried to pull away the second time and wrenched my right wrist – I’ve only got diddy wrists and I was convinced it would snap under the pressure. I tried to scream in pain, but he shoved his tongue in my mouth – I should have bitten it off!!

He then tried to drag me to the sofa next to the table. This wasn’t what I anticipated. Where was my romantic music, a nice comfy bedroom and my lingerie? I didn’t want my first time to be like this. I resisted as much as I could and even managed to slap him around the face with my free hand, but he pushed me down and I fell onto the sofa, but not before hitting my head on the corner of the table. Pain pervaded my senses leaving me dazed for a few moments – enough time for him to climb on top of me.

Maybe he was too drunk to realise the gravity of what he was doing. I screamed at him to stop as he ripped my dress. I begged him to at least put on a condom as he yanked down my underwear. The only verbal response he gave was that he didn’t like the feel of them so wouldn’t be wearing one with me.

Maybe it was my fault – maybe I gave him mixed signals. Maybe I brought it on myself. Maybe he didn’t hear me screaming no over and over again as he grabbed both of my wrists to prevent me from struggling as much and forced himself inside me. Maybe he didn’t see the pain etched on my face (I have never felt pain like it!) or the tears, or hear my frequent pleas to stop and that he was really hurting me. Maybe he just didn’t care.  He wasn’t considerate about being gentle – he got more and more aggressive and violent – and he kept biting my boobs. I tried to relax – I really did!! – so it wouldn’t hurt as much. I prayed to God and all of the angels in heaven that it would be over as soon as possible, but it just kept going on and on.  I didn’t think it would be as possible to retreat so much inside of myself mentally.

He tried to break me.

I think he did.

There was a lot of blood afterwards. Marcus looked triumphant. He told me I was not a virgin anymore and he had made me a proper woman.

I wanted to flee but he wouldn’t allow me to. He was really nice afterwards and asked me how I was feeling.  I told him that I wanted my phone. He told me he would retrieve my phone as long as I stayed where I was – not that I would have been able to have gotten very far – he got my phone from his coat pocket in the hallway. He lied to me! He allowed me to phone home and my sister as long as I put it on speaker phone so he could hear.

It was a massive feat trying not to let the pain, fear and anger be conveyed in my tone of voice whilst speaking to my parents. His nasty hands massaged my shoulders as I spoke, but I was too frozen with fear to even recoil. I tried my best to pretend that everything was normal and to wish them a happy new year in advance.  I couldn’t get in contact with my sister, so I texted her, but not before him checking it. He’s taken my phone again from me but promises to give it back to me in the morning if I behave myself.

He joked about removing the sofa cushion covers and putting them in the washing machine to get rid of the bloodstains and told me to get cleaned up. He said we’ll go again after he’s watched some of the New Year’s celebrations on TV. I can’t endure that again!

I’m crying in the bathroom and I can hear him laughing on the phone like what he just did, didn’t happen or is normal.

I feel so sore in between my legs.

My boobs ache.

My wrists and thighs are bruised.

I feel so stupid.

I’ve brought this on myself.

It’s my fault.

I’m scared of him.

I don’t want to end up pregnant or with an STI.

I want to go home.

I want to start afresh. I’ve missed the countdown to the new year but I can hear the fireworks from the bathroom window.

He won’t let me. I see that now.

There’s no way out.



Will our Diary Writer overcome her traumatic experience? Find out in Chapter 25…


  • Why is our Diary Writer still making excuses for Marcus’ heinous actions?

Missed some? Catch up here:

Chapter 1   *   Chapter 2   *   Chapter 3   *   Chapter 4   *   Chapter 5   *   Chapter 6   *   Chapter 7   *   Chapter 8   *   Chapter 9   *   Chapter 10   *   Chapter 11   *   Chapter 12   *   Chapter 13   *   Chapter 14   *   Chapter 15   *   Chapter 16   *   Chapter 17   *   Chapter 18   *   Chapter 19   *   Chapter 20   *    Chapter 21   *   Chapter 22   *   Chapter 23

Credits: Original Picture by GraphicStock

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