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Forms Of Abuseimages from the stories

Patricia

It would build up over time, for two or three months. As work got more intense for him, he’d get more and more uptight and controlling at home with me. He’d say things like, ‘you’ve only got five minutes in the toilet.’ (Sighs). He’d lock me in there so many time, um… for long periods, and I couldn’t get out. I’d… I’d beg and beg him to open the door. You know that really affected me. I’d get quite panicky in small spaces. I couldn’t breathe properly in anywhere close to him.

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Eventually he’d break down crying that he was so sorry. He’d say that work was driving him mad, that he never meant to hurt me, that he loved me so much. He was going mad with worry about how he was going to keep looking after us, supporting us. He’d be so broken. I just wanted to tell him that everything would be alright and then for a time it would be alright. And I’d work harder at keeping him happy, unstressed, and he could be really thoughtful. He’d bring little presents home for me. He bought me a ring once, and then a little pendant he’d had engraved, and I’d tell myself that everything was going to be alright this time. But then the bills and the work would start piling up. And we’d find ourselves back on that same road again; me holding my breath and waiting for him to blow until everything started all over again.