As the police clipped on the handcuffs, I knew that the nightmare was over. From the safety of the police car, I watched as the officers bundled him into the back of the second police car that had arrived all lights and sirens in our quiet cul-de-sac.
The neat little street in the “nice” neighbourhood was the last place anyone would expect any form of crime to take place.
But what really goes on behind closed doors?
I knew in my heart that I had finally done the right thing. In all honesty, I know I should have found the strength to do it years ago. If only I’d been stronger. If only I’d had more self-belief… but that had been slowly and steadily eroded away. If only I had acted sooner, then my kids might have been spared all that they have endured and not been exposed to it.
My son was the one who convinced me that I could set up cloud storage that his dad couldn’t access. He even helped me set it all up and password protect it. It was our secret. I used the “secret cloud” to store every email, every text message, every What’s App. If only I’d figured out how to record and save conversations…. Slowly over the weeks and months, I built up my body of evidence and my courage.
The final straw had been when he’d tried the same tactics with our daughter. She was barely a teenager! His vicious comments had almost broken her. Reading them had torn my heart to pieces and fuelled my anger. How could he do this to his own daughter? It hadn’t taken much to persuade her to share the screenshots she had shown me. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sad fact that she had been hiding his cruel messages for months, scared that she would be blamed for the behaviour.
I waited until the kids were at school and he was working from home for the day before confronting him. They didn’t need to witness that. They had already seen and heard more than enough. He kicked off as I’d expected he would when I told him I knew about the messages he’d sent to our daughter. For the first and last time, the abuse became physical. I was going to have a beauty of a black eye in the morning. I took the blows without fighting back then submissively crept from the room while he returned to his conference calls and emails. From the sanctuary of the bathroom, I dialled 999 and reported the assault.
As I watched the police car leave, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was a brave thing you did today,” praised the female officer who was sitting beside me.
I forced a smile. It hurt to smile.
I saw the curtains twitch in the house across the street. If only they knew what had gone on behind closed doors but enough is enough….
October is Domestic Abuse Awareness month.
Domestic abuse doesn’t need to be physical to be classed as a crime. Emotional abuse is a crime punishable under the Serious Crime Bill 2015 in the UK and can carry a prison sentence of up to 5 years.
If you’ve been affected by domestic abuse including emotional abuse, you can find help and support in the links below.
Getting help for domestic violence and abuse – NHS (www.nhs.uk)
Coral McCallum 