I remember that first argument, the first time the anger bubbled up inside me. The first time that Steve didn’t listen to anything I had to say, he accused me of cheating. I hadn’t done a thing. I was caring for a client and I was accused of going there to sleep with his son. The client only had one daughter.

That explanation wasn’t good enough. I was sitting on the floor sorting out the presents I had got for my birthday, the same day. I got to the point where I couldn’t contain my rage, I grabbed Steve’s shirt to push him out of the room and there it came, the first slap around my face. I was in shock that this man, who claimed to love me, dare raise his hand to me. The tears started falling down my bright red face, across my freckles and down to my chin. Steve shouted at his point, he didn’t understand when he was crying when this was my fault.

Happy Birthday to me. I was meant to be going to work that night so was texting one of the girls to cover. Then came the next blow, how dare I text someone to tell them what I had done. He didn’t believe my answer. How do I get out of this situation, where do I go? Do I admit the shame that this relationship wasn’t working? That I was to blame for it all.