No detail...
in case someone who knows me of old / knows him reads this.

I narrowly avoided marrying a domestic abuser. I don't doubt for one minute he'd have killed me, not physically perhaps, but he'd have sucked the joy out of my life and my self esteem out of my soul to the extent I'd have been better off dead.

The escape was as narrow as I know how to have one. It's as miraculous as a WW1 soldier finding that his Bible/cigarette tin stopped the bullet that was aiming for his heart, or the person that nearly steps into an empty elevator shaft but looks at the last minute.

He never beat me. He didn't need to. I still beat myself up over how dumb I was. I google his name to see if he's married and if he is I'll have to find a way to warn her. God forbid he breeds and she thinks she has to stay with him for the sake of the kid.

Sometimes getting away from it isn't enough. It's like a perverse version of Final Destination. I might have escaped but I've inflicted it on someone else.
( Sallyrsm, Wed 25 Aug 2010, 21:56, 1 reply)

Bastards like that don't deserve partners

( eXOBeX, Thu 26 Aug 2010, 0:59, closed)