“I was about 30 weeks pregnant when I met him and we started dating. He was there for me and helped me in any way he could. He made sure I was taken care of and promised my son would be as well. Not long after, I had my son prematurely. Again, he was caring and was there each day and night to help. That slowly started to change. He started not caring if I went to visit my son in the NICU or not. He started drinking every night. When he drank he was verbally abusive and manipulative. I tried to confront him a few times, but he always told me it was my fault or I was overreacting. His drinking got worse and each time he drank he would put me down and tell me I’m not good enough. He said without him I would have and be nothing. He would make me have sex with him, saying if I didn’t then he would hurt me and make my life hell. After my son had been home from the hospital for a couple months, I took him (my son) to New Hampshire to visit with family. While we were gone, he (my abuser) moved into my house. When he did this, he did it without a care about my things. A lot of my things ended up outside in the shed. When I returned to the house, I found it to be a complete mess. Of course he never offered to help clean. I was scared to tell him that I wanted to move with my son back to New Hampshire, to live near family. When I did bring it up, he said okay, but days later he made a huge argument about it and said it was all my fault and that I led him on. From that day on, he was awful. He would drink excessively. He would come home late at night being very loud, waking my son. He trashed the house; liquor bottles scattered in the room he slept in. He threatened that he would hurt me and my son if I didn’t do what he says. My mother was my only support. She kept reminding me that before all else, I have to keep my son and I safe. So, we made a plan that as soon as my college semester was over, I would leave for New Hampshire. However, I had all important items ready on standby if I needed to leave at a moments notice. One night after class, I came home to cops at my house. He was very drunk slurring his words. He claimed someone broke into my house while he was gone. The door was busted in and the house was a wreck with things thrown everywhere, but somehow the only thing missing, was a pair of his shoes. The cops questioned him and myself. I told the cops how this wasn’t the first time he claimed this happened, and the time before he was drunk and I wasn’t home as well. The cops and I both knew what was really going on. They told me they would drive by again later to check up on my place and if I needed anything, give them a call. A few nights later, after coming home loud and drunk again, I asked him to please try to keep it down as I didn’t want it to wake my son. His anger burst out again, telling me I am nothing and no one will ever put up with me and my shit. No one will ever love me especially because I had a child. I called my mother and sat on the phone with her while she listened to him scream at me, inches from my face. He told me i was a slut and even said derogatory things about my family. My mom drove to my house while on the phone with me. When she got there, he was shocked and kept saying he never said those things. I grabbed my son and what we needed, and stayed at my moms that night. Soon after, he started moving his things out of my house, but still trying to make me out to be the bad guy. Acting as if it were my fault he had to move and had no money. After he was finally out, I changed the locks, but still lived in constant fear that he would come back one night and do who knows what. After the semester was over, I packed up what I could fit in my Honda Accord, grabbed my son and 4 dogs, and left for New Hampshire.
My son and I have been back in New Hampshire for almost 2 years now. There are still days I relive some of those moments and try not to blame myself for staying so long. Then I remind myself, I did it. I got away. I started a great life for my son and I. I will even have my degree soon! I hate that I had to go through it. However, I’m proud that I did what was best for me and my son, even if it meant starting all over.”
Thank you, Tiffany, for sharing your story. I am glad you are safe.