Dates with my abuser
I didn’t know how to get away
Locking eyes with a handsome, brown-eyed man across the pub, my heart skipped a beat. Damian Bridge.
An old school friend, I’d known him since we were 14.
It was August 2012, and I was having a drink with friends. Damian and I got chatting. He was so charming. ‘We should spend more time together,’ Damian said. Grinning, I agreed. Two days later, he took me out for dinner. We clicked, and there and then, he asked me to be his girlfriend. ‘Of course!’ I replied. Two weeks later, he moved into my flat.
At first, we were really loved-up. Damian treated me like a princess.
But, a year on, things started to deteriorate. We’d row a lot. And Damian didn’t like me going out without him, unless it was to my job as a care assistant.
Our relationship became volatile, unhappy.
But I still loved him, so I stuck it out.
Only, in October 2014, we had a furious row.
‘Do you mind turning your music down?’ I asked him. ‘I’m off to bed.’
But Damian suddenly lashed out, punching me in the face. My nose made a sickening crack.
Then Damian stormed off, leaving me in agony, blood gushing down my face. Stunned, I phoned my daughter Melissa, 23, in tears. ‘Call for an ambulance,’ she said. ‘I’m coming over.’ Melissa arrived five minutes later, shortly followed by paramedics. At Blackburn Hospital, doctors told me that my nose was broken. ‘I fell over,’ I lied, as I was stitched up. I was distraught, and angry with Damian. ‘Mum, you need to leave him,’ Melissa urged me. I knew that she was right – Damian scared me. But he felt terrible. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it,’ he said, promising that it would never happen again.
So I forgave him and we moved on.
But, eight months later, another row broke out.
I only asked him to turn down the TV. But Damian flipped, and suddenly...
Crack.
He’d punched me in the head. In agony, I fell to the floor. Terrified, blood dripping from a head wound, I called 999.
Police came and arrested Damian, while I was taken to Burnley General Hospital.
There, doctors glued a gash in my head back together.
Damian was charged and released on bail. After that, he moved out. But he’d call, begging me to take him back.
So, despite the court case hanging over us, I started seeing him again in secret.
Only, soon we started rowing after having a few drinks. Angry, I called him names.
Damian suddenly hit me across the face. I fell heavily to the floor. I’m not sure if I was knocked unconscious or passed out, but I came to a few minutes later. My jaw was agony. And I was petrified. I went to stay with a mate. For two days I struggled on, but my face was swollen, the pain indescribable.
I went to Pinderfields Hospital where an X-ray showed I had a fractured jaw.
Thankfully, I didn’t need to have my jaw wired shut. But for three months I struggled
to eat. I had to live off soup.
After that, I tried to stay away from Damian.
In July 2016, he was given a 12-month community order for battery.
I thought it would be the end and tried to move on.
But, two months later, I had a call from Airedale Hospital.
‘Damian’s had a hernia operation,’ a nurse told me. ‘He needs somebody to take him home.’
He’s hurt, I thought, rushing to his bedside.
‘I need you,’ Damian pleaded. ‘Let me come home with you.’
He looked so vulnerable that my heart went out to him. So I agreed to take him home.
‘Just until you’re well again,’ I said.
Only, when he was feeling better, he stuck around.
I knew that getting back together was a terrible idea. I had to tell him. ‘You need to leave,’ I said.
But he lost it again. Grabbing my hand, he bit down on my fingers, hard.
Agony tore through me as Damian chomped right down to the tendons like a wild animal.
Then he just let go and stormed out.
Blood gushing from my hand, I went to Whitworth Hospital.
The following morning, I reported Damian to the police. Officers arrested him later that day.
Last June, Damian Bridge, 40, appeared back at Burnley Crown Court and pleaded guilty to assault by beating and assault occasioning actual bodily harm.
The court heard that he had 11 offences on his record.
But he was simply given an eight-month sentence, suspended for 18 months, and an 18-month restraining order against me.
He was also handed a 30-day rehabilitation activity requirement and ordered to pay £150 costs.
My heart dropped when I realised that he wouldn’t be going to prison.
‘He got off scot-free,’ I sobbed to Melissa.
Even now, I suffer from nightmares. I hate being home alone and have CCTV on my front door.
And I have barely any feeling in my fingers.
In January last year, I got together with an old friend David, 39, and we’re engaged. He’s been my rock. I just hope Damian gets the help he needs.
Before he hurts anyone else.
Agony tore through me as he chomped on my fingers