“HE MONITORED EVERYTHING I DID”
Sophie,* 21, from Norwich, explains how she left her abusive partner last year
When the first lockdown hit in March 2020, I was living with my boyfriend, Lewis,*
who had become increasingly emotionally abusive over the three years we’d been together. If I spent more than five minutes in the bathroom, he’d knock on the door and ask if I was texting another guy. He made a rule that I couldn’t go on my phone after he fell asleep. He’d monitor who I followed on Instagram and wouldn’t let me eat what I wanted. As he didn’t let me out much anyway, lockdown didn’t feel that different. Plus, he lived in my room, but thankfully I shared my flat with a friend, Ryan,* which made me feel a little safer. I’d become increasingly isolated from my female friends.
When we first met, Lewis was funny and charismatic, and everyone liked him. It felt like a healthy relationship. But slowly things started to change. If I wanted to meet friends after he’d finished at work, it would turn into an argument. Soon, I felt iffy if I was going out without him. I wanted to tell my friends what was going on, but I couldn’t because Lewis would read my messages.
As the pandemic hit, the flat turned into a pressure cooker, waiting to blow. Lewis was at his most abusive after drinking, and we’d started to drink more. When he became so frustrated during arguments that words weren’t enough, he would throw drinks in my face, kick and push me, and once hurled a glass at the back of my head. In early May, we had yet another petty argument and he threw a games controller at me and smashed a hole in my wall. That night, I tried to leave him, but he broke down and cried uncontrollably.
The week after, I snapped. “The only reason I stayed with you is because you made it too hard to leave,” I told him. He stormed out of the flat, saying he was going to a bridge. I was terrified he’d take his own life. When I couldn’t find him, I realised I had an opportunity, so I hurried home and packed a bag, but when I reached the door, Lewis was outside. I was screaming as he dragged me back upstairs. He went to the toilet and my flatmate looked at me and said, “I’ll keep him talking, just go,” so I fled to my dad’s. Later, Ryan called and said Lewis had assaulted him and wrecked the flat. Ryan had phoned the police, and Lewis spent the night in a cell.
Even though I felt sad it was over, I was also overwhelmingly relieved. Life changed for everyone last year, but it’s been torturous for women trapped with abusers. I couldn’t shower alone or go to the toilet without a knock on the door, so even those things feel like freedom to me now. ›