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The scariest moment of my relationship of 18 years was the moment that I no longer felt afraid to die, I was begging for it to happen. I had been with my husband for 18 years and experienced physical, emotional, verbal, and financial abuse and had been brought to the brink of death on more than one occasion. My head had been cracked open, experienced strangulation on a daily basis and had lost consciousness at his hands. I was beyond damaged emotionally and physically and my ability to take much more was completely gone. I wanted him to finally succeed. I didn't want to live this life anymore. And then it dawned on me. I have three children with this man and if he were to kill me, what would become of my girls? I knew then that my girls would face a rough life if I were gone. I brought them into this world and they needed me to fight back for them. That was the realization that I needed to get out of there so I packed a single bag for the four of us and I fled. What I want others to realize is that the aftermath can be just as difficult as the relationship. It is true what people say. You do realize who you can REALLY count on when you are in crisis. I mistakenly believed that I had more than enough support in my friends and family. I was wrong. My network evaporated as soon as I needed them. It has been a tough road for my girls and I, but I am grateful everyday that I am here with them. I was, and still am, absolutely determined to, not only live, but thrive. For myself and for my girls. It is a scary path to be on but please recognize that you are not alone. There is always someone that cares and can begin to understand. You've made it this far. How far can you take yourself in this life? Live the life that you were meant to and don't let anybody else take away your sparkle.

I don't know how to write my story, there are so many part to it so many different forms of abuse and trauma and yet here I am thinking this is wrong because my abuse wasn't always physical or constant. Because I survived and people have been through worse than I. I have never shared alot about my story or past, the things I've witnessed have never been confessed to more than one counsellor because my first counsellor asked to study me because they didn't understand how as a suicidal teen I had survived and not killed myself because the stuff I had experienced should of made it impossible for me not to kill myself. Since then I've kept things quiet even though as I've gotten older I've discovered even more trauma surrounding my childhood. I am a child who was never wanted not by my adoptive parents and barely by my biological parents. I am a child who's been raped, abused, and used. A child that grew up in house of animals of which I was responsible for. When I finally left nobody believed me, then they did a house check they came and apologized they told me they thought I was exaggerating but when they saw they said I had under exaggerated it was worse than they pictured and worse than I had told them. I was taking care of 7 dogs, 21 chickens, and over 100+ cats and kittens in a standard family home, I was doing the laundry for a family 4 plus myself, the dishes and house cleaning. Id stay up all night with the cats about to give birth and help them deliver their kittens, then get my sibling lunches ready and wake my parents before I left for school in the morning...... I think this is enough for my first time, I'll write more and tell my story over time slowly I will tell my story

Date 2 guys 4 hours - My boyfriend at the time was nice and treated me amazing and he was so gentle with me and that stopped after this happened. I left to go over to his house which was a regular thing i was doing as we were dating at that time. His dad was home and so was he. And when i got in we went to the lounge and put on a movie. He paused the movie then he told me to take off my shirt. I told him it was a stupid idea since his dad was home and there is no way I would do it as I didnt want to and didnt feel comfortable. He hit me. He hadnt hit me before he was always gentle. But i got up and walked very quickly to the door to get out but it was locked. I went to the lounge to tell him to unlock it, then his dad walked in. He asked what was going on I said I wanted to leave. Then he got up from the sofa and grabbed my chest and said "your not leaving" i froze i didnt know what to do. He then said we were going up to his room. I couldn't refuse. I froze. I was scared i didnt know what to do. We went upstairs. He was holding my wrist as we went up the stairs it was bruised so badly. We went into his bedroom and he hit me again and again and was just screaming at me. His dad came in and locked the door. He stopped screaming and said take your shirt off or I will fucking hit you again. His dad was behind me and ripped my shirt off. He stopped screaming at me moved closer to me and put his hands around my throat strangling me and shoved me onto the bed. I had passed out because I had hit my head on the bed frame or wall in not too sure. I woke up to his dad ontop of me while I had my legs and wrists tied to the bed frame so I couldn't move. He said this is how it is done and then something in a different language. Then I felt a push. He was rapeing me. I didnt know what to do. I was frozen it hurt so much. They took turns rapeing me. Touching my chest fingering me and I remember them recording it all because they had a stand with a phone and i wasnt sure what it was at first. It hurt so much it is all blurry since I was crying from pain and how scared I was. I remember he was ontop of me while squeezing my chest and moaning while his dad was holding my legs down since I was trying to get out then after he finished they turned me over. I was too weak to fight and then they were reaching under me and grabbing my tits while rapeing me and taking turns. They stopped because they were both clearly exhausted. So they started to touch me instead. One was touching me while the other fingering me. I was in so much pain. I remember passing out alot but i remember every single part. It lasted for 4 hours. They then started to beat me and said if I told anyone they would show everyone the video, show my friends my teachers and people I knew. I remember after one of my lessons I had a huge panic attack and fell into my teachers classroom and started to break down infront of her. I told her everything. And showedher the threats he had been sending me and she saw the video. She helped me calm down then told me she had to tell safeguarding and the police . She helped me calm down and continously checked on me every day. Then she told me she was moving country . The Last thing she told me was I have to tell someone when I was struggling. My school safeguarding team didnt believe me and looked at me like I was crazy they had seen the video he had told them it was AI . Not one of them believed me because he was the 'nice kid who never got into trouble'. Every day at school i would see him he is in 2 of my classes. He got no punishment. He would wait at the end of lesson and pack up slowly or depending on how quickly i was packing up to walk behind me when we were leaving. He knew what he was doing. Once i was lining up outside my classroom and i felt someone grab my behind the corridors it was him. My school did nothing about it. The safeguarding team are ALL WOMEN . Not one of them believed me. When I had told them I was struggling with food. They checked on me once and said "have you eaten". They checked on me once. I showed them I struggled with self harm. Nothing. They didnt care. Later on that week I attempted. It didnt work. It was my last cry for help and the school did nothing. To this day he has had no punishment and I am still struggling. I just needed help and justice and he is still in my classes and still touching and assaulting me.

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.