I was out chilling with my mates when my phone rang. It was her, and she sounded really messed up, saying she’d hurt herself if I didn’t come back. When I got back, I found her in the bathroom, knives lying there like some horror movie. It freaked me out big time. After that, I felt like I had to stay close, like I was responsible for her. I couldn’t even hang out with my friends without worrying about what might happen when I wasn’t there.

Blades

I was out chilling with my mates when my phone rang.

It was her.

Her voice was shaky, broken, words slurring together. “I can’t do this… I need you… If you don’t come back, I’ll—”

My stomach dropped.

I left without even saying goodbye, sprinting through the streets, my mind racing through every worst-case scenario. What if I was too late? What if she’d already—

I burst through the front door, calling her name. No answer.

Then I saw the bathroom light on.

I pushed the door open and froze.

Knives, lying there on the sink like something out of a horror movie. A bottle tipped over, pills scattered across the floor. She was sitting against the bathtub, her head low, her breathing heavy.

She looked up at me, eyes wide and glassy, and whispered, “You came back.”

It freaked me out big time.

I wanted to be angry, to shake her, to scream What the hell are you doing? But all I could do was kneel beside her, my hands shaking as I checked if she was okay.

After that, everything changed.

I felt like I had to stay close, like I was responsible for her.

I couldn’t even hang out with my friends without worrying about what might happen when I wasn’t there.

What if she called and I didn’t pick up? What if next time, I was too late?

It wasn’t love anymore.

It was fear.

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UNSEEN ECHOES - Objects of Domestic Abuse | Photography Project & Exhibition

He hid my tablets, so I had to ask for them. Sometimes, I even had to beg. He knew how important they were for me.

Without them, I’d be in pain. It was like he had control over me. It made me feel powerless.

I was at work one day when she sent me a photo of a clown. It was not to be funny, but she said it looked like me.

She was always saying bad things about how I dressed. I couldn’t forget it. I kept thinking, maybe other people think the same. It made me feel bad, like I was not good enough.

Every morning there was a cup of tea waiting for me in the kitchen. Always in the same broken cup. I hated that cup, I wanted to smash it, but that would just get me in trouble. She would also leave the teabag and spoon for me to clean up.

She did it to remind me that I was a broken mess and that nobody would want me.

The thought of it still makes me feel sad and lonely.

At first, it was just a bit of harmless fun, just a game we played.

But he started leaving for longer periods. He would go to the pub. I was scared. I dreaded his return and what he might do. I didn’t know what state he would be in.

Sometimes he would bring other men home. To use me for fun or to pay off his debts. I would lay there. I couldn’t run away.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted to die.

I had no freedom. I couldn’t even choose what I was going to wear. She did all of that.

She would leave clothes out on the bed for me. She even picked out what socks I would wear. I was more her fashion accessory. Just there to fit her image.

It’s humiliating when I look back at it. I couldn’t be me.

The bastard made a sign out of cardboard, labeling me with the word ‘SLUT’, and forced me to parade down the street carrying it. I was so mad, humiliated. All because I spoke to another man? I couldn’t believe how cruel he could be.

After that, I was too ashamed to even leave the house. How dare he treat me like that? It was like he was trying to strip away everything. I won’t let him get away with it.

Blades

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