The first time there was anything to raise a red flag about was about July last year. We had been drinking and arguing about something and nothing and he grabbed me by my throat and screamed in my face. I put it down to a drunken barney. Everyone does things they don't mean when they are drunk right?
A few weeks later I was down in London visiting him. We had 4 very story over proof cocktails in camden where he was working and then we got the tube home. During the tube ride we started arguing about my relationship with one of our mutual friends in the past and when we got off the tube he slammed me against the barrier wall cracking my face against the metal.
A passerby stopped to ask if I was ok and through my tears I said I was and ran away.
I ran down the stairs towards his flat and he ran after me, throwing his phone that was on my contract and smashing it to smithereens.
I was trying to get to the flat to get my stuff. He stopped me, told me to calm down and I was acting crazy. We got in, went upstairs to his room where I began to pack my things. The details of what happened next are hazy but I was pushed to the floor, called a slag, a whore, he spat in my face. He slammed me so hard against the bed that the frame broke. He took my belongings and through them out of the house and then came back up for me. He grabbed me by my leg and my hair and dragged me halfway down the stairs and then stopped and put his hands around my throat so tightly that I couldn't breathe or scream. While he was doing that I had enough time to think to myself who will find me when I am dead. Who will look for me, who will notice I am missing. He went to the kitchen and got a knife and threatened to stab me if I left. I ran to my car and he got in beside me and told me he would call the police and report me for drink driving if I left. He cried, he apologised, he begged me to stay. I was alone in London with no where to go. So I stayed.
He cried all the next day and apologised but said he never hit me
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