Ex

I don’t even know where to begin. I finally met up with him. After four years. I finally realised it was time to meet him. I needed answers to why he hurt me all those years ago. I wanted closure before I went on with my life. I didn’t want to carry around this baggage anymore. So I thought it would be the best decision for me to finally see him and talk about everything that happened between us. It was difficult talking about what happened because I hate being reminded of what I went through but I think this is the best decision I’ve ever made.

 

I haven’t spoken to Scott in four years. Not since he moved to Swindon and he cheated on me. But I know that was a good thing. As crazy as that sounds. But I thought that when we met up he would be the same person I used to love four years ago. I thought he would be overly confident, arrogant and a horrible person. But he was the complete opposite. He lacked so much confidence, was scared and jittery and to be honest, he was a shell of the person he used to be. I didn’t know how to act around this person. He was someone I didn’t know. I knew who he was four years ago. But now, I didn’t even recognise him. This really threw me off because I hadn’t expected him to have changed so much in four years. Which is silly to think because I know I’ve changed A LOT since being with him.

 

I was very standoffish with him at first. I didn’t want to let my guard down just in case this was all an act. I also had four years’ worth of anger and hate towards him and finally I could tell him exactly how much he had hurt me. I didn’t waste any time. I wanted to get my answers and leave. I didn’t want to spend more time with him than I needed too. I asked him why he hurt me. I expected him to deny it, just like he did years ago. Claiming I was lying. But he didn’t. He admitted to hurting me. He said it was because of his rough upbringing and how he didn’t have a permanent figure in his life that showed him love. I’m not going to lie; over the four years I had come up with my own suspicions as to why he hurt me. Turns out I was right. But this didn’t give him the excuse to hurt me the way he did. He claimed that he loved me. But you don’t do that to the person you love.

 

It took me years to realise that I am a victim of abuse. I always made excuses for him because his mum was really sick and he had to look after her. I did this because I loved him. But he didn’t love me. I know that now. He wanted to control me because he couldn’t control anything else in his life and I had let him.

 

I hate myself for letting him hurt me for so long. But I was young and I shouldn’t have had to experience something like that when I was only fourteen years old. But it made it better to know that he had suffered over those four years. It even made me happy. Which is totally fucked up to say. But after having to endure all of that emotional and physical abuse, I kind of enjoyed knowing that he had suffered.

 

He told me that his life went to shit after he cheated on me. The girl he cheated on me with only wanted him for materialistic things. Which I find fucking hilarious! But when she found out he didn’t have a lot of money she dropped him. He chose her over me and she still fucked him over. He said that he started to hate school, didn’t do any work and got into loads of trouble. Which is really strange to hear because when we were at school he was so motivated and wanted to do well. So that shocked me. He said he even dropped out of college because the family who took him in because his mum was really sick couldn’t afford to send him to University. So he thought what was the point. He got a job at a car place selling cars and he gets paid a good amount of money so well done to him.

 

The thing that really shocked me was that he turned to drugs. He would go to raves all the time with his mates and just take so many different drugs. He told me that one time he had a really bad experience. He said that he was paranoid that someone was after him. He got home and barricaded the door shut and didn’t leave the room for three days. He had to have time off of work and it still affects him now. He’s super paranoid and kept making me nervous because of how paranoid he was being about every little thing. Now I know this is super fucked up for me to say, but I’m glad he suffered. I’m glad he went through something so terrible because that’s only a fraction of what he put me through.

 

I held onto my anger for years for what he did to me. That made it easier I think, to hate him rather than cry about it. I guess to me, being angry and blaming him was easier than confronting him because I was still so scared of him. He hurt me and damaged me so much and for years I refused to believe this. I didn’t want to believe that I was that girl who put up with her boyfriend’s abuse. I didn’t want to be that girl who didn’t leave her boyfriend after he hit her. But now that I’m older I’ve begun to realise that this isn’t what I am. I am a survivor of abuse and I should be proud of this.

 

It was strange seeing him again. To see this person that I had been in love with, standing in front of me and feel nothing. Well there was something there, but it was mainly anger and maybe I was a little bit scared. Not that I would ever admit that to him. After we spoke, I felt lighter. Which is crazy. But when you’ve been carrying around that much hate for someone for four years and you finally get to confront that person about it, you feel relieved. I’m glad I decided to do this. I’ve waited years to be ready to face him again and now I finally have. But I do still feel sad sometimes because my first relationship was an abusive one. I hate that I was shown the worst things in a relationship when I was that young. Now it’s fucked me up and I didn’t want to believe that it had. I’m scared to love someone again because I know what it’s like to love someone so fucking much and have them throw that back in your face. I also know what it’s like to have someone tell you that you’re the reason why people want to kill themselves…

 

He was my first love and he ruined all my future relationships because I don’t trust easily and I realise that now. It took me four years but now I know. I didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated me. I didn’t deserve to be slapped round the face by the boy I loved with everything I had. I didn’t deserve gifts as a way to say sorry for hitting me. I didn’t deserve the mental and emotional abuse he gave me. And I most certainly did not deserve to feel like no one else could ever possibly love me. He destroyed me and since then I haven’t loved anyone else. How could I? He made me so scared to love anyone else because I always thought that they would do the same thing that he did to me.

 

I hate him for the person he was when he was with me. He damaged a fourteen-year-old girl so badly that she still struggles to trust people and have a relationship. I hate him for changing me. I’ve lost the girl I used to be and some days I miss her because she never had a chance against a boy like him. She was kind and had so much love to give. But he totally destroyed this person. My relationship with him killed me and I envy the girl I once was. A girl who was in love with the idea of love and had never experienced anything bad in her life. But now, I need to remember that I am strong and I know to NEVER let anyone treat me the way he treated me. I know now that I deserve better than that.

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Why I Did It

People have an image of a typical murderer in their head. But when people look at me and know I’m a murderer they just can’t piece it together. I’ve never been in trouble with the law. I always went to school and had good grades and yet I’ve ended up here. And I always get asked ‘What did you do to end up here?’ I must have repeated this story a thousand times and I will probably repeat it a thousand more. So here I am about to repeat it again for the sake of the jury to help my case in an early release.

 

I met my first boyfriend four years ago when I was only seventeen. He was twenty-two at the time and he was the love of my life. At the start of our relationship it was amazing and he would take me out and buy me all these expensive gifts that any girl would be lucky to have. He treated me like I was someone special, he became a part of my family and a concrete person in my life. But unfortunately for me, this relationship didn’t turn out the way I’ve seen them in the movies. I’m not trying to get any sympathy. I’m a survivor and I survived being with him! He deserved what he got and I do not regret for a second the decision to end his life. It was either me or him and I had been through so much already that I knew it couldn’t possibly be me. I’m a good person! I did not deserve what he did to me!

 

After about five months of dating, he changed. He became aggressive, to the point where he would actually hurt me. And he became incredibly possessive. He wouldn’t let me see any of my friends or go out anywhere without him. I’ve never been in a relationship before so I thought that this was something that happened in relationships and you wanted to spend every waking minute with each other. But he would get so aggressive that he would lash out and smash things- trying to scare me and it worked. This was bearable because he channelled his anger towards objects and not actual people. But that soon changed and I was the victim of his abuse. It started off by him slapping me across the face or punching the wall close to my head and then later on apologising by giving me gifts as a way of saying sorry for hurting me. But it didn’t stop, it became so constant that I would forgive him again and again because I loved him. I made him believe it was acceptable to hurt me- I made myself believe it was acceptable to get hurt. After about a month of this abuse I became increasingly anxious- having to conceal this abuse from my family. This caused me to gain a lot of weight and throw up every time I had to spend time with him because I knew what would happen when I saw him. I was so scared of him that it made me physically sick…

 

Now I know many of you are starting to piece together my story and are coming to your own conclusions about what happened. But let me tell you…I’m not a killer. Everything became a lot worse for me after those months. He told my family that we were moving in together and that scared me more than anything. He could hurt me all the time, whenever he wanted and no one would question if anything was wrong. But I moved in with him because I knew if I didn’t my family would ask me why and I didn’t want to tell them what was happening. We were living together for about three weeks before the abuse started again. But this time he did something I still can’t comprehend…he raped me. And he would do this again and again and again. After this happened I changed. I hated myself and I was disgusted with who I was. I knew he didn’t love me but I still loved him. I was holding onto the person he used to be because I was wishing more than anything that he would come back. The person who showed me genuine love and kindness. But this wishful thinking was slowly killing me. This abuse continued for weeks and I genuinely wanted to die. But then something happened and even now I’m still wondering if it was a blessing or a curse. I found out that the reason I was throwing up wasn’t just due to stress but because I was pregnant.

 

I didn’t know if he would be happy or if he would get mad…I didn’t want him to hurt the baby. Our baby…I kept this a secret for a week before he came home one night and dragged me upstairs. He ripped my clothes from my body before shoving me face down into the bed while he raped me. I remember just closing my eyes and praying that this would be as bad as it gets tonight. I just prayed he wouldn’t hurt our baby. But of course my prayers weren’t answered. He said that I was being too quiet and I wasn’t enjoying it and it was like something inside him snapped. This time felt more dangerous and I genuinely thought he was going to kill me. He had this-this look in his eyes like he couldn’t stand the sight of me. And that scared me more than anything. I couldn’t reason with him or talk him out of this trance he was in and this KILLED me. It shattered my heart because it was in this moment that I realised that he didn’t love me. That this man was capable of hurting me and all this time I had let him. I was willing to put my baby’s life in jeopardy because I feared him so much.

 

I remember screaming at him that I was pregnant, just hoping that he would stop. But his face was blank like he didn’t even hear me. I repeated it again turning to face him and make sure he heard what I was saying. He needed to know I was pregnant. I was sixteen weeks along and he needed to know I had our baby growing inside me. That he couldn’t hurt me anymore. A tiny part of me hoped that he would want to have a family and we could make this work. The three of us having a normal life and having dinner as a family. But he wasn’t built to have that life with anyone. He’s unhinged, destructive and dangerous and I knew deep down that I couldn’t let my baby grow up in that environment. But this choice was ripped from me before I could even make my choice. He looked at me but he wasn’t really seeing me. He head-butted me and I fell back onto the bed, my nose was bleeding. I was stunned and he used that to his advantage. He put his hands around my neck and cut off my air supply. I panicked and clawed at his hands, trying to loosen his grip just so I could breathe. I just wanted to breathe. I clawed at his face but he ended up grabbing me and throwing me onto the carpet. I’m on the floor and he kicks me. In my stomach, where my baby is. I scrunch up into a ball, screaming and trying to protect my baby. But he kicks me again and again until I feel this warmth coming down my leg…He stops when he sees what it is. Blood. My blood. He’d killed my baby.

 

I scream. All I remember is screaming. I don’t remember hearing him say anything. I get up and run at him pushing him and hitting him over and over again. I just kept hitting him and then I grabbed something…I don’t remember what it was but I’ve been told it was a lamp. But I do know I smashed it into his head and I just kept hitting him with it. Again and again and again. I stopped after a while, maybe four minutes and then I see what I’ve done. The man I once loved, who killed my baby laid on the floor his face was unrecognisable. I’d caved his skull in… His beautiful face was now splattered across the carpet…The face that belonged to the man that I loved. I killed him and the worst part is I can hardly believe what I’ve done because it all happened so fast. But I know he was a bad person because he hurt me and he killed my baby and if I had stayed with him he would have killed me. I tell you this because I am not a killer. I did not kill Jack Hart because he had already killed me…