I enjoyed how he fixed all my problems without including me in his, but I soon discovered he didn’t trust me and thought I was stupid. He afterwards took away my voice.I had no say in any of his decisions. He made all of my selections for me, right down to the color of my hair. Later, he began raising his voice at me, throwing objects, and using foul words. I fell pregnant after six months of living in this golden prison. He never touched me while I was pregnant.

He lavished me with presents and accolades and treated me like a queen. I assumed he’d changed, or that our son had changed him, but I was mistaken. He grew more critical of me after our son was born. Not a single day went by without a beating. I was hit in the face, back, or stomach for a misspoken remark, a poorly set table, crossing my knees, or even a terrible cup of coffee. I felt like a patient, someone trained to use a litter box and spanked when I messed up.

I was 24, my body was bruised, and my nerves were frayed, but I couldn’t even consider my mental state.In my instance, I determined that divorce was the only way out. We must remember that my husband had great connections; he promised that removing my son would take him only minutes. My son was everything to me, no matter how much I wished for a regular existence free of violence. I couldn’t abandon him. I now share a home with my son. Scars may be seen in his eyes and all over his body. We’re attempting to reconstruct our lives.