Episode 10

...BELEN CLINT...

My boyfriend kept changing, so many things happened at his home that I gradually believed his explanations, they were nothing unusual and quite convincing.

The landline phone went dead, and when I told him, he justified it by saying there was a problem with the wiring, and our neighbors were in the same situation. Not knowing anyone around, I believed what he told me.

"Love, can you give me some money?" I asked, though I probably shouldn't have.

"For what do you need it? Don't you have everything you need with me?" he asked, and I could see he seemed angry.

"I need to buy sanitary towels" - his expression changed, and he went out to buy them himself.

When I tried to leave, I noticed the door was locked again. The windows have bars. It feels like I'm in a comfortable prison that I can't escape from, even if I tried.

My boyfriend suggested I quit my job at the bar but it wasn't a couple's conversation where he was worried about me or the hours I worked; instead, he said I was working there because I was a prostitute looking for men to cheat on him with.

He's there every night at my job, always watching my every move, and meanwhile, when I'm not working, I'm at his house, the one we share. I don't go anywhere alone, I don't have half an hour to go anywhere without him. If I need something, he just goes out and buys it while I stay here locked in.

I thought I saw him taking something that wasn't just alcohol, and when we got back from my job, he acted more irrationally and ended up hitting me.

It was the first time he slapped me, but he did it so hard that I fell to the floor and hit something. When I came to, I was naked in bed and he was on top of me, satisfying his desires. My head was splitting with pain and my hands were tied.

I could see his face was totally distorted; he seemed out of his mind, groaning like an animal, saying unintelligible things. He seemed to have more energy in some way, and I wanted him to stop, but he wouldn't, no matter what. His eyes were unfocused, his pupils dilated.

I couldn't understand what drug he had taken. I knew he was out of his mind and that struggling would be futile. He was bigger than me, stronger, and on top of that, I was tied up.

When he stopped and lay down, I focused on untying the knot binding my hands. After much effort, I managed to do so. My wrists bore red marks, and carefully I went to the bathroom. My private parts hurt terribly, and the reflection in the mirror was even more painful.

My cheek had a bruise, my neck, breasts, legs, I was marked all over. He had bitten me in his frenzy and had also left several hickey marks.

I stepped into the shower and cried until my eyes turned red and my eyelids swelled even more than from the blow he had given me.

I found some clothes and slept on the couch; the last thing I wanted was for him to feel my body on the bed and take me again; I couldn't bear it.

In the morning, quite late, I felt him getting up. I didn't know if he remembered anything or not, nor did I know how long he'd been using drugs because I'd never seen him in that state before.

When he looked at me as he entered the kitchen, he showed confusion and regret, but I was so terrified, I didn't even want him near me.

"I'm really sorry, love, I don't remember well what happened, but I wasn't in my right mind, you can't blame me for something like that"—he tried to approach me.

"You hit me, when I passed out you took me to the bed, you tied me up and raped me. I don't want to continue with this, please let me go," I begged, crying again.

"You won't leave, I love you, I'd die without you, this will never happen again. If you leave, I swear I'll kill myself"—he seemed sincere, and I believed him.

"Promise me, you'll never mistreat me again," I demanded.

"I swear, love, but the best thing would be for you to stop working there. I ended up drugged and many men try to take advantage of you, if I'm not there to protect you, you're not safe"—I thought for a moment and nodded, maybe that way our life would improve.

I didn't particularly like my job, and I truly considered leaving the place, on top of everything else there was my relationship and the marks I now bore. I would have to take time off anyway, and they would fire me. Subconsciously I thought that if I stayed away from the nighttime environment, my partner would as well.

If he stayed away from there, he wouldn't drink or be exposed to drugs, there would be no jealousy, and we could be happy, living in peace.

The truth is when I heard women talk about violence, they said, "the first punch and they won't see my face again," but in my situation, escaping was not simple. Besides, I loved him, dearly. He was my first relationship, my first man, my savior. I didn't want to lose him; I wanted to help him change and become a better person because everyone deserves a second chance, right?