Ter­ror at 70mph

As we sped down the road, he ex­ploded with rage…

Chat - - CONTENTS -

Kiss­ing Poppy, 8 months, as she snoozed in her cot, I flopped on the sofa. It was Septem­ber 2014, and I’d split with Poppy’s dad five months ear­lier.

My daugh­ter was my world, but I was lonely.

Scrolling through Face­book, a friend re­quest popped up from Mitchell Aud­leyEl­lis, 19. He’d been in the year above at school.

Blond hair, blue eyes, tall... Gor­geous!

Sec­onds after I ac­cepted his re­quest, he sent a mes­sage – a heart emoji.

And then...

Can I have your num­ber?

My quiet night in was look­ing up! We were soon ex­chang­ing texts – and, a few nights later when Poppy was at her dad’s, Mitchell in­vited me over.

We spent the evening snug­gling on his sofa, shar­ing a take­away. And, later, he kissed me.

‘I have a daugh­ter,’ I blurted out after­wards. But Mitchell wasn’t fazed. ‘I want to look after you,’ he whis­pered. ‘And your lit­tle one.’

My heart melted.

And so things sped along at hy­per­speed. Mitchell doted on Poppy, tak­ing her to the zoo, swim­ming.

‘I’d love us to have a baby of our own,’ he grinned one day in April 2015. And, months later, he got his wish.

‘I’m preg­nant!’ I blurted.

Mitchell was thrilled, es­pe­cially when we dis­cov­ered it was an­other girl.

‘I can’t wait,’ Mitchell grinned. But then he be­gan pick­ing fault in ev­ery­thing I did.

‘Wipe the ta­ble be­fore you

He said he wanted to look after me – and my lit­tle one

serve din­ner,’ he groaned one evening.

When he saw I hadn’t folded his clothes, he knocked them over the room. He just likes things how

he likes them, I thought.

If I stood up for my­self, Mitchell lost his tem­per.

‘You look like a tramp,’ he snapped at me one night. ‘Leave me alone,’ I replied.

Quick as a flash, he slapped my face.

I cried out, clutch­ing my cheek in shock. Mitchell looked ashamed.

‘I’ll never do that again,’ he promised. Of course, he did. The slight­est thing set him off. He’d shout, swear and use me as a punch­bag.

Emma was born in April 2016, but Mitchell would dis­ap­pear for days, spend­ing all his wages par­ty­ing with mates.

‘I’ve cheated on you, any­way,’ he sneered.

My mum Estelle, 40, begged me to leave him.

‘It’s only go­ing to get worse,’ she warned – but she might as well have asked me to scale Mount Ever­est.

I had a tod­dler and a new­born, and I’d never felt more worth­less. How could I pos­si­bly leave?

By Fe­bru­ary 2017, I fell preg­nant again, and felt even more trapped. Jake was born that Oc­to­ber, yet Mitchell didn’t change.

Early one morn­ing last Septem­ber, I woke up to him stomp­ing around.

‘How am I go­ing to get to work?’ Mitchell boomed.

‘I can’t take you, the car has bro­ken down,’ I sighed.

He went bal­lis­tic,

drag­ging me out of bed and kick­ing me on the floor.

He raged that he was ‘sick of my at­ti­tude’, slap­ping and kick­ing me. Even­tu­ally, he stormed off. I had a black eye and bruises, but thank­fully the kids slept through it. I called Mum, who called the po­lice. Mitchell was ar­rested. Last Novem­ber, Mitchell Aud­ley-El­lis, 23, ap­peared at Hunt­ing­ton Mag­is­trates Court, charged with as­sault by beat­ing.

He got a 10-week prison sen­tence, sus­pended for two years. A re­strain­ing or­der was im­posed, ban­ning him from com­ing near me. Vis­its to the kids would be su­per­vised. It was over.

I put my en­ergy into be­ing the best mum – but, this Fe­bru­ary, Mitchell mes­saged

I miss you, asked to visit. Even­tu­ally, I agreed. ‘What I did to you was dis­gust­ing,’ he ad­mit­ted.

He said he loved me, had taken me for granted – ev­ery­thing I wanted to hear. So I gave him a last chance. Mum was hor­ri­fied.

‘I want noth­ing to do with him,’ she snapped to me.

And it only took two weeks for bul­ly­ing, vi­o­lent Mitchell to reap­pear.

In May, I was about to end things for good, when I fell preg­nant again.

It floored me. I loved be­ing a mum, but couldn’t have an­other baby with a man I des­per­ately needed to es­cape.

I couldn’t ex­pose an­other child to vi­o­lence.

A few days on, we were driv­ing to Mor­risons, when I found the courage to tell Mitchell that

I was preg­nant.

Poppy, then 5, was at school, Emma, 3, was at nurs­ery, and Jake, 18 months, was in the back of the car in his car seat.

‘I think its best if I have a ter­mi­na­tion,’ I said. Mitchell lost it.

I was driv­ing at 70mph down a dual car­riage­way, but still he lunged at me.

‘Slag!’ he boomed, smack­ing my face, dig­ging his nails into my arm.

‘Stop!’ I screamed, try­ing not to crash. Fu­ri­ous, he threw his phone at the wind­screen, smash­ing the rear-view mir­ror.

‘Jake’s in the back!’

I wept as I screeched to a stop at Mor­risons’ car park.

Mitchell kept rain­ing down blows, pulled me from the car by my ear.

When se­cu­rity guards saw and called the po­lice, Mitchell fled, but they tracked him down and he was ar­rested, charged.

I went ahead with the ter­mi­na­tion – the hard­est thing I’ve ever done.

But when Poppy said to me one day, ‘It made me sad when Mitchell hurt you, Mummy,’ I knew that I’d done the right thing.

This July, at Cam­bridge Crown Court, Mitchell Aud­ley-El­lis, 24, pleaded guilty to com­mon as­sault, crim­i­nal da­m­age, threat­en­ing be­hav­iour and break­ing his re­strain­ing or­der.

He was given a 16-month sen­tence, sus­pended for two years – an­other slap on the wrist.

De­spite still be­ing un­der the pre­vi­ous sus­pended sen­tence, the judge de­cided it would be un­just to ac­ti­vate his pre­vi­ous con­vic­tion.

Un­just?!

He was also given a cur­few and or­dered to at­tend 40 hours of re­ha­bil­i­ta­tion to ‘learn to re­spect women’.

If he can learn that in just a few days, I’ll be stunned.

Men like Mitchell never change – be­lieve me, I know.

Rain­ing down blows, he pulled me from the car by my ear

Shat­tered by his tem­per

Preg­nant with Jake

Mitchell: from car­ing to vi­o­lent

blue His at­tack left me black and My ear and neck… …shoul­der and back… …and arm. All badly bruised If you or some­one you know has been af­fected by do­mes­tic vi­o­lence, call the 24-hour Na­tional Do­mes­tic Vi­o­lence Helpline on Freep­hone 0808 2000 247.

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