They say that marriage is supposed to be the happiest time of your life. That was so far from the truth for me.
Me and my husband Peter Jackson had been married for just 4 short months, but we’ve been together just 2 years. I was only 19 years old now. Peter was 25 years old. I rushed into marriage because he was my first love, my first real boyfriend. The thought of not been with him tore my heart apart.
For the first month of our marriage, we were happy, we talked about buying a house in the suburbs, having children and growing old together. But when Peter lost his job, everything changed. He seemed to resent me, everything I did wasn’t good enough. He stopped me from going to work in case other men looked at me, he stopped me from seeing my family and friends.
I was stuck in a prison we called home. He’d hit me and tell me it was my fault, I made him do it. Today was no exception, I climbed out of bed to be met with a slap to the face. This was an every day thing in my life. Peter pulled me back by my hair. Tears sprang to my eyes as he pulled harder.
“Did I tell you that you could move?” He spat. I nodded no and he let go. “Go get my breakfast now.” I climbed out of bed for the second time and made my way downstairs. I opened to cupboard, staring at me were boxes of pain killers. I stood staring at them for an age. If I took them all, I could end it all. End the pain, end my marriage. I grabbed a box before looking at them and putting them back. I heard Peter coming down the stairs, I shut the cupboard and grabbed the eggs from the fridge. Peter sat at the table with the paper sat in front of him. I picked up a knife and debating to plunge it into him but quickly decided not to. I wasn’t like him, I wasn’t pure evil.
Once he had finished his breakfast, he left the house, locking the door behind him. I frantically searched the house for spare keys, phone, anything that could help me. After I finished searching, I decided on smashing a window but before I knew it Peter was back. He grabbed me by the hair and threw me against the wall, pinning me against it with his hand to my throat. I couldnt breathe. I closed my eyes, waiting for death. After a while I opened my eyes, I was laid on the floor I must’ve passed out. Peter was sat on a kitchen chair just staring at me, his evil eyes burnt into mine. He wasn’t the man I married, he was a stranger, someone I hated, someone I wanted dead. He pulled me up by my arm and dragged me upstairs, once inside the bedroom he kicked me hard in the stomach, I bent down in pain, I couldn’t breathe, everything around me started to spin, stars danced in my eyes. Tonight, he was going to kill me. He went to kick me again but he stopped as he heard the doorbell. He rushed downstairs, I heard laughter and males talking. I stumbled to the top of the stairs. John and Lewis stood at the bottom. Both of them were Peter’s brothers. John caught sight of me but didn’t say anything. I headed back into our bedroom and laid on the bed. I wanted it to end. I wanted to escape.
To be continue…