I’ve written about my abusive ex before. I’ve written about the lying, cheating and the physical violence. And those are heinous, gross and unforgivable. But what I’m writing about today is an emotional manipulation that was probably the worst thing to ever happen to me in that relationship.
It’s taken me YEARS to admit that this happened. And I often think back to it and it’s still something that hurts me now… So I was very young and I found myself pregnant. We had no money. No proper home. He was a cheater. He had already hit me at this point. I knew I wasn’t in a normal relationship.
I was renting a tiny flat that he called home, but didn’t pay a penny towards it. I paid for everything and I wasn’t making very much money in my first job out of university. He used to steal my money and disappear for days on end. He would cause rows for an excuse to go out. Put me through emotional turmoil for an excuse to leave, with my money, and sleep with other women. He once kicked my door in and so I lived with no front door for a couple of weeks. He isolated me and I had no friends. My life was, in short, a shit-show. And it was no place for a baby.
So there I was. Alone, and pregnant. I was sick as a dog. And I was too scared to tell anyone. Eventually throwing up at 5am every day gave the game away. He took it well. He told me his preference was for me to keep the baby, but it was my choice. And I couldn’t bring a child into that. I was wise enough to know even back then that I wasn’t at “keep the baby” age, and I didn’t want to be tied to him forever. I can’t stress this enough, he was (and still is) THE WORST. So I went to the doctor and I asked for an abortion.
They couldn’t get me into my local hospital in time (January, very busy month for them), and so I had to go to Bournemouth for the procedure. I packed everything, and booked us both coach tickets to get to Bournemouth. There was no question he would come with me.
The day arrived and from the moment we woke up, there was something off about him. At the time, he was definitely not texting a 14 year old who’d developed a bit of a crush. (Spoiler alert, she is now his wife.) Of course, there was nothing in it, I thought. She’s 14. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t go there. Of course, he did (but not until I was on holiday in Italy, and she was very nearly 15 so…)
The morning of my abortion, he was on his phone. Constantly. He was cagey. As it happened, although she should have been in school, she wasn’t. And that meant his plans needed to change. He didn’t want to be at his stupid girlfriend’s stupid abortion, when alternatively, he could day drink on a council estate. At every chance, he tried to pick a row with me. He did this a lot, and the row then would be his excuse for whatever behaviour followed. But I wasn’t biting.
He made digs about the choice I’d made. His ex-girlfriend had had a baby young, what was stopping me? She didn’t have any money either, why couldn’t I do the same? I didn’t bite. So he continued to find anything to row about. My shoes weren’t appropriate. Didn’t bite. My clothes were too plain (I was going for a fucking abortion, mate). Didn’t bite.
We got to the coach station. He was itching not to be there. But I was not going alone. It was too important. We boarded the coach. And all hell broke loose. He turned to me and the venom started. I was disgusting for doing this. The only reason I would choose to do this was because the baby wasn’t his. In fact, he hadn’t wanted to bring it up but I was seen in a car with another man a few days previous. Is that where I shagged him? Is that what I liked doing, meeting random men and shagging them in car parks. He starts laughing at me. “I’m actually happy for ya, I’ve been waiting for someone to take me off your hands.” At this point, I’m silently just crying. I couldn’t get any words out. I’m trying to tell him not to be so stupid, stop causing a row. People were looking at us. And with that, he screams “so you’ve been fucking someone from work, and now I will too, you just fucking watch me. Enjoy killing my baby.” And he got off the coach just before we left, grinning and waving at me as the coach pulled out.
As you can imagine I was a STATE. I was crying, snot everywhere. I was on the way to have an abortion, alone. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. I had no money. And I was about to have surgery, with not a soul on earth knowing where I’d be.
A lady who’d been sat in front of me eased herself into his empty seat. She gave me tissues and water and helped me to calm down. And then she told me he was disgusting. No ‘adult’ had told me that before. She said she was shocked to overhear what she heard. No man worth anything would ever speak to an animal like that, let alone another person. She said he was a coward. She said he was abusing me. She said I needed to leave. She said there would be life after Liam, and she said she’d come with me to the clinic. I don’t know who she was, I was too selfish to ask, and I’ve never seen her again. I don’t remember the journey, I was in such a state, but she got me to the clinic in Bournemouth. You may think what he’s done at this point is awful. Reader, it gets worse.
At the clinic, they were lovely and got me booked in. They asked me for a next of kin. They asked me who was picking me up. I had neither. I told them I’d be fine on coach, but they needed someone to physically pick me up before I’d be allowed to leave. So I had to call him. I couldn’t tell my family, and I had no friends. I literally didn’t have one person in the world who could come and pick me up, what would I say to them?
He was drunk. But he did take pity, and was probably starting to feel guilty about the show on the coach. And so that was it, and I was put into bed, and to sleep.
I woke up that evening, all had gone well. I was sore, and woozy and very emotional. For all the anxiety, rowing and worrying about HIM, I hadn’t processed what this was for me, as a woman. And it was huge. I’d never been particularly maternal, but there’s no denying you feel something surreal the moment you know a little life is inside you. I started worrying I’d made the wrong choice. I started to feel guilty beyond measure for what I’d done. And the tears started again. In that moment, in this bed in a clinic miles from home, having done what I’d just done, I felt the most alone of my whole life. Even thinking back to that moment, I well up.
Cried through the tea and toast. Nurses told me this was natural. These feelings would pass. Gave me leaflets for counselling. I cried and cried and cried. I felt sad and ashamed. I needed someone close to me to tell me I’d done the right thing. I needed someone to hug me. I just needed comfort. I checked my phone, and one text from him: “Hope you’re enjoying your day, we’re having a PA R T WHY? Cos you’re a bitch.” (I’m being gracious to him, his spelling isn’t that good and his swearing a lot worse.) Started crying again.
Somehow I got through the afternoon and at six on dot, the nurse came around to tell me my boyfriend had arrived to pick me up. She mentioned he was “a bit merry”. I was shocked he’d turned up. And anxious. We’d left it on such a bitter note. He’d been with her all day. And I had just done something that he really didn’t want. I packed my stuff and got into my plain clothes and walked out.
And there he was. Waiting. Beaming smiling. He opened his arms to hug me. He kissed me and told me it would be OK. He was sorry. And then he told me he’d brought me a surprise for the weekend. And the surprise was here. And that’s when I saw my surprise. Liam, a violent pig of an abuser, had gone full on fucking evil. My surprise was his three year old son.
He brought his SON to my ABORTION.
vittoria's secret 