A fraction of the story...

I don't even know how I managed to fend him off. Perhaps I didn't. Perhaps he held back just enough so he could keep going until he was satisfied. Thinking back, putting my hands up to cover my face and drawing my knees up to my chest is hardly going to protect me from a 6foot4 man with a heart full of rage and eyes so angry you cannot see his soul.

What does it mean when the one you love, the one who holds you tight at night, tells you how much pain he wants to inflict on you and says he wants you dead. My brain had no response for that. I felt so confused. My heart writhing in pain. Had I really just heard those words pass through his seething lips?

He spits in my face and I hear those words again. He grips my arms tighter and kneels upon my chest, crushing me under his weight. My head at a strange angle pushed up against the wall. I feel so scared and helpless. I try to push him off using my legs. It's useless. His years of army and football training have taught him too well.

It only makes him twist in anger. Fuels his rage. He knees me hard in groin. It's agony. Before I can squeeze a sound out of my throat in pain, a hand slaps me across the face and ear. One side and then the other. Over and over. My eyes are closed so tight. I'm crying.

Silent sobs escape between my shaking lips until I feel it. His hot hands are suddenly tightly and permanently around my throat. The shock sets in. My eyes fly open. I can only imagine the look of sheer horror upon my face. He laughs at my terror. He's laughing? Why is he laughing? I am struggling. I can't breathe. To loosen his grip my nails gouge my own neck. I pull with all my might. I just need one more breath.

- adapted from personal diary.