I gave him a sec­ond chance, but then he beat me sense­less

Chat - - Inside - By Lau­ren Rich­mond, 22, from Wolver­hamp­ton

Hear­ing a knock at the door, I opened it – to no-one… But then I saw a sin­gle red rose on the step. Glanc­ing up, I saw a trail of roses lead­ing down the street… For me?

Cu­rios­ity got the bet­ter of me, so I fol­lowed the trail to a nearby field – where my ex, Jor­dan, 23, was wait­ing for me.

‘I’m so sorry for ev­ery­thing,’ he choked. ‘I just want you back.’

I hated to ad­mit it, but it felt good to be back in his arms.

I’d first met Jor­dan when he was vis­it­ing the North Wales hol­i­day park where I worked.

He lived in Hud­der­s­field – but, by the time his hol­i­day was over, we were in love.

Within two months, I’d moved in with him.

‘This is the be­gin­ning of our hap­pily ever af­ter,’ he’d smiled, scoop­ing me into his arms.

But then things started go­ing very wrong…

I love my make-up, but Jor­dan didn’t like me to wear much.

And, when I landed my­self a job in a cof­fee shop, he’d come and stare at me dur­ing my shifts, ac­cus­ing me of flirt­ing with male cus­tomers.

‘You like the at­ten­tion, don’t you?’ he’d snarl.

‘You’ve no rea­son to feel jeal­ous,’ I told him over and over again. But, when I got a new, male boss, Jor­dan forced me to quit.

I got a new job as a sports coach in schools, but the pay was less, and the fi­nan­cial trou­bles put even more strain on our re­la­tion­ship.

We started hav­ing aw­ful rows.

Jor­dan was ter­ri­fy­ing when he was an­gry.

So, af­ter 18 months, I packed up all my stuff and was now liv­ing with my grand­par­ents in Wolver­hamp­ton.

I’d missed Jor­dan, but had ig­nored his texts and calls. Now, he’d turned up and made such an ef­fort that I heard him out.

‘I’m get­ting pro­fes­sional help,’ he said. ‘Please come home. Give me an­other chance.’

And I’d be­lieved him. So, the next day, I’d moved back in. Things be­gan to im­prove. Jor­dan’s tem­per was a thing of the past. And, if he did get jeal­ous, we talked it through.

Six months on, he pro­posed, with a gor­geous, di­a­mond ring. ‘Yes!’ I cried. Jor­dan played cricket and, one day, he in­vited me to his club for post-match drinks.

Spir­its were high as his

When I got a male boss, Jor­dan made me quit

team­mates handed him shots of tequila and sam­buca...

By mid­night, Jor­dan was pretty drunk and sug­gested we should go home. ‘I’ll call a taxi,’ I said. ‘Don’t be stupid, I’ll drive,’ he slurred, wav­ing his car keys. ‘No, you won’t!’ I scoffed. Jor­dan shot me an an­gry look. ‘Fine, I’ll walk,’ I said. But, be­fore I’d got far, Jor­dan texted me, threat­en­ing me if I didn’t come back. So, sigh­ing, I walked back, where I found him al­ready sit­ting in the driver’s seat of his car.

Get­ting in, I begged Jor­dan not to drive. But he revved the en­gine, and be­gan swerv­ing all over the street. ‘Jor­dan, stop!’ He slammed on the brakes, and be­gan rain­ing down punches on my head, face and neck.

Blood pour­ing from my head, I was barely able to breathe.

He’s go­ing to kill me, I thought.

I wound down my win­dow, screamed with all my might. A couple ran out of their house...

‘You poor thing!’ the woman cried, open­ing the door and pulling me away from Jor­dan.

As her hus­band called the po­lice, Jor­dan climbed out of the driver’s seat and stag­gered down the road.

An am­bu­lance took me to Hud­der­s­field Royal In­fir­mary, where I learned Jor­dan had been ar­rested, twice over the al­co­hol limit for driv­ing.

I was treated for a gash to my head, bruis­ing to my chest, neck and face, and a cut, swollen lip.

Look­ing at my re­flec­tion, I was hor­ri­fied. What had he done to me?

Next day, I packed up and drove back to Wolver­hamp­ton.

I left my en­gage­ment ring be­hind so Jor­dan would know it was over. For good.

On 26 July, Jor­dan Greaves, 23, ap­peared at Kirklees mag­is­trates court, where he pleaded guilty to as­sault and drink-driv­ing. He was given a com­mu­nity or­der with 180 hours of un­paid work, and a re­strain­ing or­der ban­ning him from con­tact­ing me for a year. He’d pay £250 com­pen­sa­tion, and was banned from driv­ing for 20 months.

He should’ve been locked up for what he did to me.

I still have night­mares and panic at­tacks. And, if I see a car like his, I’m ter­ri­fied.

But I’m de­ter­mined to come out of this stronger.

Hope­fully, my story can help oth­ers recog­nise the signs of do­mes­tic abuse. I’ll never let any­one else treat me like he did.

I de­serve bet­ter. Ev­ery woman does.

I’m de­ter­mined to come out of this stronger

Jor­dan: we were quick to fall in love

black and blue I still have aw­ful night­mares about that night

He punched me in the head, face and neck

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