I’m sitting in the dark cinema room at the Everyman Cinema. On the screen, Lily Bloom, played by Blake Lively, is hit by Ryle for the first time, and suddenly, I see it too—the flashbacks from so many years ago. The things I never considered violence, let alone domestic violence. Those things happen to others, not to me. I remember telling the story of my latest breakup in 2020 with a little grin, saying, “Yeah, he hit me, but nothing dramatic. I never had a bruise, and I never bled.” But now, sitting in this cinema, I can see the truth for what it really was.
…It was just an accident, you said while wiping my tears away…
…And finally, I have left you. I should have done it long ago. The first time you hit me was one morning when your alarm went off, and I asked you to turn it off. Instead, you struck me and held my head down on the pillow a little too long. Later, you told me you were still asleep, that it was just a dream, and that you didn’t mean to hurt me. I believed you.
I stayed even when you called me ugly and said I should be grateful that someone like you would stay with someone like me. “Look at you,” you said. “Do you think you can do better?” I stayed when you screamed at me in front of your mother, calling me useless and incapable of anything. I stayed when you smashed the present my friend gave me, saying we didn’t need that “stupid shit.”
I stayed when you told me to wear more makeup like the 1British girls. I stayed when you told me not to eat, not to laugh, not to touch you in public. You made sure I knew that I shouldn’t make any noise that might upset you.
Ryle is holding Lily down on the bed, trying to bite off her tattoo, while he is violently forcing himself on her. I remember the time I didn’t want to have sex and how you forced me to. I remember crying, begging you to stop because it hurt so much. And I remember you telling me that I was the problem, that I wouldn’t survive a minute without you.
Then, one day, you hit me again. We were driving, and I asked you to turn the music down. Instead, you struck me on the head while I was behind the wheel. I couldn’t stop the tears streaming down my face. I was furious and ashamed. It was at that moment that I started to hate every part of you. Still, I stayed. I even spat in your coffee a few times to relieve my anger.
I stayed when you never bothered to put empty yoghurt pots in the bin, and I stayed when you used coffee cups as ashtrays. I stayed when you made me cook dinner at 11 p.m. after my 14-hour shift, knowing full well I had to be up in a few hours for another one. My job wasn’t important to you, and you always said I spent my days doing nothing. But still, I stayed.
I remember the night I came home from work. You asked me something, and I answered in a way that didn’t please you. I was exhausted, drained, and couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. That’s when you hit me again, and in that moment, I just knew…
….It wasn’t an accident; you just wanted to hurt me…
With each passing day, I healed a little more. I’ve come to realize that I never did anything to deserve such cruel treatment from someone I once called my home. I also understand now how hard it is to find the strength to leave when someone constantly reminds you how powerless you are without them. I stand by the belief that one of the worst things that can happen to a woman is to be financially dependent on a man. It makes leaving feel almost impossible. But trust me when I say this: you are so much more than a tool for his ego. You are capable of walking away and starting over.
If any part of my story resonates with you, please take a deep breath and RUN. If you need help or someone to talk to, here are some organizations that can offer support:
- National Centre for Domestic Violence ( text “NCVD” to 60777 and they will call you back)
- Refuge (0808 2000 247)
- Or speak to local authorities
- This does not intend to insult any British girl out there; it is just the statement I used to hear. ↩︎
