‘I escaped my controlling boyfriend during lockdown’

After enduring obsessive behaviour that left her feeling trapped and scared, Caroline*, 32, left her abuser, James, 54, last November

I met James on a dating website in 2019. I was 30, and I’d been single for two years after breaking up with my fiancé. James was 52 and charming, confident, really romantic. He spoiled me: mini breaks, foreign holidays.

We decided to live together after two months. It was quick, but his mother had just passed away and I wanted to support him. A month after I moved in, I went for a job interview as a secretary. I got the job and was so happy. But when I switched my phone on again afterwards there were about 30 missed calls and 15 angry text messages. ‘Where are you?’

That’s when the nightmare started. James was convinced I was having affairs. He became increasingly jealous and paranoid.

He insisted I call him during my breaks at work. At first I made excuses for his behaviour, ‘Oh, he just misses me.’ But things got worse when he went away for work. Normally he would drive me to the office, so I took an Uber instead, and he made me video call him every day from the car. ‘The engine is so quiet,’ he’d say. ‘Are you sure you’re going to work?’ I later found out he got a friend to spy on me.

It got worse and in September I quit my job. I told family and friends I’d been made redundant, but I left because of him. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Looking back I wonder why I didn’t leave him, but I kept hoping he would change.

When the first lockdown happened in March, I thought it might save our relationship. As we would be together 24 hours a day, he’d see I wasn’t up to anything. I was wrong.

Gradually he started controlling every aspect of my life. If I went shopping, he’d video call me. If I had a bath in the evening, he’d say, ‘Why are you having a bath now? You normally have a bath in the morning.’ I felt trapped and desperate. But it was hard to tell my mum or friends because he was always checking on me, and I didn’t want to worry them. I asked him if he’d been like this with other women – he’d been married, and had had two long-term relationships. He said no. But I don’t believe him.

Many times I tried telling him he needed help. Sometimes he’d admit to being controlling and apologise, but revert back again. Finally, in June, he agreed to see a psychiatrist. In return, I agreed to have a lie-detec

James cut his wrists, but I realised it was not to kill himself but to manipulate me

tor test to prove I’d been faithful.

In September, the guy from the liedetector company came to our house. It was awful and humiliating but I ‘passed’. At first, James was happy, but then, he said, ‘Maybe you cheated.’

It all came to a head in November when I got a job as an administrator. The evening before I started work he got really stressed, and at 3am he went into the living room. In the morning I found him lying in a pool of blood. I called an ambulance. He was conscious, but he’d cut his wrists and upper arm, and had a giant wound on his neck. It was horrible.

I couldn’t go in the ambulance, because of Covid. Later I spoke to the hospital doctor who said James was fine – he’d avoided cutting his veins, only muscles and tendons. We had sharp kitchen knives, but he chose to use the bread knife, and I realised his main aim was not to kill himself but to manipulate me into not going to work so I would take care of him. He didn’t want to lose control.

His psychiatrist, a family friend, confirmed James was paranoid and obsessive and that if he felt he was losing me, he might try to kill himself again. But next time he might try to kill me first.

I was really alarmed. I had to leave but I had nowhere to go. My mum lives in sheltered housing for the over-60s. I had no job or savings.

The council put me in touch with a women’s aid charity, who found me accommodation run by Refuge. On 11 November, I moved into a studio flat. For the first few days I was in pieces, crying. But it’s an amazing place. When I arrived, there was food, towels, kitchen pots and pans, everything taken care of. Staff have helped me sort out everything, and referred me to a therapist as I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD.

James recently tried to contact me through a friend, but I didn’t reply. I’m hoping I’ll be able to find a job and move on. In the meantime, I’m safe and have my own space. I’m free.