I met him on a night out, Halloween. Interesting, I thought, mysterious. I turned 21. We had fun. Day trips and holidays shopping sprees and fancy meals. Anything I wanted, he gave. Although I never asked. I never asked for anything. Then it started. He demanded I wear a coat, even in summer. "you're not a child refusing to wear your coat, so wear it", he strangled me with a belt until I nearly passed out. I'm sorry, he said. He dragged me down the stairs while his mum stood at the bottom and watched. He didn't do that, she said. Driving down the road at 70, he undid my seat belt and opened the door. He didn't do that though. Or maybe he did, and it was just my own fault. Caught him messaging another girl. I threw a barstool at him. He beat me up. I caused it, I deserved it. I made him cheat, I was too fat, too skinny, both at the same time. I was ugly and annoying. He was embarrassed of me. We went for drinks. I don't remember the rest. An ambulance was called as I sat at the side of the road. My hair was matted with blood, my face bright red, blood again. He came to the hospital, told them I was just drunk. I wasn't. I just didn't know what had happened. He told me, I refused to wear my seat belt and he had to slam on the brakes. I knew I had my seat belt on, I wasn't drunk. Nobody believed me. He admitted to another girl that he beat me. I am now scarred for life. Just short of 4 years, I endured, I vsitied, and I lived in hell. He stalked me, harrased me, all after beating me. It was my fault, I deserved it. I didn't.