Maimed by love-rat ex
My heart pounded as my boyfriend, Matthew Grady, 30, looked into my eyes.
‘I’ve fallen in love with you,’ he whispered. ‘I love you, too,’ I smiled. It was March last year, and I’d never felt happier.
We’d only been going out a month, but I’d known Matthew for years.
After a bad relationship, he was a knight in shining armour. Charming, protective, loving. A gentleman who’d shower me with gifts.
We were soon spending every night together. My daughter, 3, adored him. Only, after a few months, Matthew became controlling. Wouldn’t let me see mates.
‘You should stay away from them,’ he’d say.
At first I thought he couldn’t bear for us to be apart, but I soon became isolated.
Then, one day, Matthew hit me during a row.
He’d been drinking, so I just walked away, shocked.
‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed the next day. ‘It’ll never happen again.’
I still loved him, so believed him. Big mistake.
Last New Year’s Eve, we went to a nightclub.
Matthew got jealous of a bloke who’d watched me dancing.
And, once outside, he blamed me for leading him on.
‘I didn’t even see him,’ I cried.
But Matthew lost it, knocking me off my feet with one blow.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. Again. I felt trapped. Back at his that night, we went to bed, but while Matthew was in the bathroom, he got a video call...
It was from another woman.
‘Who’s that?’ I demanded.
‘No-one,’ he spluttered, grabbing his phone and throwing it down.
Furious, I snatched it back up.
‘She’s just a girl I used to know,’ he said, looking guilty. Liar.
I stormed out, only Matthew grabbed me.
‘Get off,’ I screamed as he dragged me back inside.
Scared, this time I called the police, who came straightaway.
‘I just want to go home,’ I told officers. I still cared for Matthew and didn’t want him charged.
I knew Matthew’s password – so, back at mine, I logged on to his Facebook page.
He had loads of messages from the same girl. They’d been seeing each other behind my back.
For months. Even at my house when I was at work. What a rat! Devastated, I called him. ‘I know everything,’ I sobbed. ‘How could you?’ He didn’t deny it. ‘Come round, we’ll talk,’ he said. I refused. ‘It’s over,’ I shouted. Matthew bombarded me with messages for two weeks. I love you, he wrote. I canõt live without you. I was heartbroken, but knew we were finished. Then, on the afternoon of 29 January this year, he phoned, pleading to see me, wanting another chance. ‘I can’t,’ I sobbed. Not with his cheating, his violent temper. ‘You’ll end up killing me,’ I wept. Ten minutes later, he called back in a rage. ‘You stupid cow,’ Matthew roared, shouting, calling me names. ‘I’ll be there in 20 minutes,’ he said. ‘I’m going to come through your door and slash you.’ I thought they were
drunk, empty threats.
Only, shortly after, I was in the bathroom washing my hands when… BANG!
Jumping, I saw Matthew in the mirror behind me. Waving two knives in the air!
Heart pounding, petrified, I turned as he ran toward me.
He’s here to kill me, I thought, in pure panic.
‘I’m slitting your throat,’ Matthew screamed.
In desperation, I bolted for the door, tried to shut it.
But Matthew wedged his foot in it, thrust a knifewielding arm through the gap.
‘Please, don’t do this,’ I screamed as he slashed wildly, slicing my shoulder.
As pain exploded, I dropped to the floor, curled in a ball.
Matthew pushed his way in, tripped over and fell in the bath.
Trying to escape, I crawled into my girl’s empty bedroom.
But Matthew scrambled to his feet, caught up.
Pure terror pumped through me as he stood over me, a crazed look on his face.
On my back, I raised my arms to protect myself.
Matthew leaned down, stared into my eyes.
‘Please,’ I screamed.
Only a knife came down… Slash! Matthew plunged the knife in, sliced through my flesh. I don’t remember any pain. Just blood. So much blood. Spurting everywhere, splattering over the ceiling, the walls, soaking my jumper. Matthew fled. I managed to grab a towel, wrap it around my neck. My sister Ladonia and her partner were in the living room, and dashed to help. ‘He’s slashed my throat,’ I cried. But blood kept spurting. ‘It’s your face,’ Ladonia’s partner yelled, pressing the towel against my cheek.
A neighbour had called an ambulance.
I’d lost so much blood I was slowly drifting in and out of consciousness, in shock.
As I was raced to Glasgow Royal Infirmary, the paramedics bandaged my face.
It’s a bit of a haze, but in A&E I had three neck and shoulder wounds stitched and glued. ‘But you’ll need plastic surgery on your face,’ the doctor said.
It felt just like I was in a waking nightmare. What has that monster done to me..?
I don’t remember pain. Just blood. So much blood
every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded what he did
At some point, I looked in a mirror – but my face was swathed in bandages.
While I was in hospital, police officers came to take a statement.
‘We got him straightaway,’ one said.
Matthew had got a taxi to mine, asked the driver to wait while he burst in to my home. Slashed me. Not knowing what had happened, the taxi driver had then driven away with
Matthew before being pulled over by the police.
Matthew had even tried to bite one of the officers as he was arrested. Animal.
The next morning, I had three hours of plastic surgery to repair my face.
After, I looked in the mirror and broke down. I wanted to die.
An angry purple wound stretched across where Matthew had slashed my left cheek from ear to mouth.
Ladonia said it’d originally looked like half of my face
was hanging off. Horrifying. I’d needed 44 stitches on the outside, even more inside. How will I live like this? I thought, weeping.
The pain was indescribable, and I struggled to speak.
Ladonia looked after my daughter while I was in hospital, and I was discharged three days later.
My daughter was shocked, but offered to kiss it better. Bless! But I was traumatised. I had nerve damage, plus a damaged saliva duct that needed draining.
This June, Matthew Grady appeared at Glasgow High Court.
He admitted assault, but denied attempted murder.
He even smirked as I gave evidence, claimed he hadn’t intended to kill me – just slash me. I was disgusted.
The taxi driver said Grady was in and out in two minutes – that’s all it took to scar me for life, destroy my face. Evil.
Grady was found guilty of attempted murder, jailed for 10 years, with an extension licence period of two years.
Meanwhile, I’m having counselling for post-traumatic stress disorder, suffer panic attacks.
I’ve still not come to terms with the ugly 5in scar on my face. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded what that monster did. I’m just glad he’s locked up. So I don’t have to live in fear.