Raped over 20 times
I was trapped with a monster who wouldn’t take no for an answer
Maria, 32, address withheld
Slicking on a sweep of red lipstick, a pang of nerves washed over me. It was June 2016 and I was getting ready for a date. Darren Belton, then 44, was tall, dark and handsome. I’d met him at a mate’s house a week earlier. We’d hit it off. And, when he’d asked me out for dinner, I was excited. But nervous, too. Two years earlier, I’d lost my baby girl when she’d been born three months premature. Heartbroken, I’d felt too vulnerable for a relationship since. But there was something comforting about Darren. ‘You look great,’ he smiled when he saw me. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach – at the end of the night, Darren kissed me. I was smitten. At 6ft, he towered above my 5ft 3in frame. But whenever he pulled me in for a hug, I felt safe. Just a week after we met, Darren moved in. It was fast, but felt right. I thought I’d found happiness. Darren treated me like a princess, taking me out for dinner, paying for everything.
But, shortly after moving in, his behaviour changed.
‘Who are you texting?’ he barked as I was on my phone. ‘A friend,’ I said. ‘You don’t need friends, you have me,’ he snapped. He became more possessive. ‘You don’t leave this house unless you’re with me,’ he said.
Two weeks later, in July 2016, we were watching TV when Darren lunged at me.
He pinned me to the sofa, his hands clasped around my neck.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I croaked, stunned. He quickly let go. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. He didn’t explain himself, and I was too frightened to push him.
But, from that moment, I was terrified of Darren. His outbursts became frequent, and he’d lock me in if he went out.
I barely saw my mum, and knew she worried.
Later that month, Darren forgot to lock the door on his way out. Grabbing my chance, I ran to a nearby women’s refuge. But Darren bombarded me with texts, calls.
I’m sorry, he texted. I promise I’ll change.
We’re better off apart, I said.
But, a week later, a bombshell – I was pregnant. Shocked, I told Darren. ‘We can be a proper family,’ he said. ‘Come home.’
He seemed truly sorry – and
He said it wasn’t rape because I was his girlfriend
being pregnant after losing my baby terrified me. I need him, I thought. So I gave him a second chance – and, at first, Darren was the loving man I fell for.
Until one night in December 2016 when I was two months pregnant, I went to bed early...
‘I’m exhausted,’ I told Darren, curling up under the covers.
Suddenly he grabbed my hand and put it down his trousers, pulled down my pyjamas. ‘No, I don’t want to!’ I cried. But my pleas didn’t stop him. I froze as Darren forced himself on me.
‘You’ll hurt the baby!’ I cried in agony, but he didn’t listen.
Afterwards, he left the room, leaving me feeling disgusted, violated. Ashamed.
How could he do this to me?
I thought, sobbing. But I didn’t dare tell a soul. For the next three months, Darren raped me several times a week. My growing bump – our innocent baby – didn’t stop him.
In pain, totally beaten, I’d shut my eyes, pray for it to stop, for our baby to be OK.
Desperate, I’d beg him to leave, but he’d refuse. I felt trapped.
‘You need to stop hurting me,’ I pleaded one day, six months pregnant.
I worried the attacks, and the stress, would trigger another premature labour. I couldn’t bear the pain of losing another baby.
‘It isn’t rape if you’re my girlfriend,’ he sneered. ‘But tell anyone and I’ll kick the baby out of you.’
Sickened, I knew I had to get away, if not for me, for my baby.
A week later, Darren forgot his key when he went out.
Packing a bag, I fled, locking the house behind me. Hiding at a friend’s, I ignored his calls.
But, going home three days later, the back porch windows were smashed, someone had tried to rip off the door.
Darren.
I reported the break-in to the police, who took swabs of blood from the smashed glass.
A week later, two police officers came round.
‘The DNA results prove it was Darren’s blood,’ one said. I felt sick. Suddenly I realised I couldn’t take any more. Standing in the hallway, I told the officer absolutely everything. ‘He’s been raping me,’ I sobbed. Darren was arrested, charged and held on remand.
‘We’re safe,’ I whispered, cradling my bump.
For the next three months, my mum was my rock, while I focused on my baby.
In May 2017, my beautiful daughter was born. ‘She’s perfect,’ I sobbed. Caring for her helped me move on – she was my saviour.
This February, Darren Charles Belton, 46, appeared at court, charged with four counts of rape, two counts of sexual assault and criminal damage.
He denied everything, forcing me to give evidence. He claimed he’d done nothing wrong – but, thankfully, he was found guilty.
The judge called Darren’s offences ‘disturbing, threatening and violent’, and jailed him for nine years, with four years on extended licence.
He was given a 10-year restraining order, told to sign the sex offenders register for life.
I burst into tears. Now justice has been done and that monster is behind bars, I can finally move on with my little girl, now 1.
One day I’ll tell her about her dad. But, for now, it’s me and her against the world.
And I’ll just be the best mum I can be.
Now it’s me and my baby girl against the world...