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A blast from the past

John was determined to be the only man for me...


Published by: Fiona Ford, Will Stewart & Amy Thompson
Published on: 10th June 2010

The fingers were tight around my throat – not tight enough to cut off the air, but enough to let me know that it could easily be done…
‘Where have you been?’ a voice hissed in my ear.
My blood ran cold as my glass clattered to the worktop, dark red liquid spilling over the edge.
I’d only just got home from my job as a legal secretary, and had poured a glass of red wine to unwind. I’d had no idea what was waiting for me…
‘Well?!’ demanded the voice again, the fingers applying just a fraction more pressure on my bruised windpipe.
‘I-I had to stay late for a meeting,’ I stammered. ‘I left you phone messages.’
‘Don’t lie,’ my husband John spat, pulling me round to face him. ‘You’ve been off with your lover boy, haven’t you?!’
‘No!’ I gasped. ‘Please, John, don’t, please…’
I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain as his fist connected with my jaw.
Crack! Again and again, his knuckles smashed into my skull.
As I collapsed to the floor, I could feel the warm blood trickling down my face, my eyes and lips swelling…
I’d like to say it came as a surprise. That I’d never put up with a man that hit me. But I’d be lying.
Truth was, this wasn’t the first time John, 31, had flown off the handle and attacked me, but it
was the worst.
‘You’re a lying cow,’ he sneered, slamming his foot into my stomach.
Retching, I tried curling into a ball. ‘Please stop,’ I whimpered.
Finally, straightening up and tugging on his jacket, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Bloody and battered, I crawled to the phone. ‘Ambulance,’ I breathed to the operator, then everything went black…
Waking up in hospital, I knew I had to leave John.
When we’d first met a year ago, things had been so different – but that’s what all victims of domestic abuse say, isn’t it?
I’d been bowled over by how attentive he was, always buying me flowers and showering me with gifts. He’d worked his way up from nothing, too, and now owned a few newsagents.
I’d admired his determination to get what he wanted in life.
Okay, he wasn’t exactly Mr Universe with his slight frame,
but he was my man. He’d looked out for me.
Then, four months after we’d married, things had changed.
Suddenly, John wasn’t a kind, loving hubby. He was a monster.
If I went out with friends after work, or had a late meeting, he’d accuse me of cheating, then hit me. The first time, it’d just been a slap.
I’d believed in my wedding vows though, for better, for worse… Everyone snaps from time to time, right?
And he’d been so apologetic afterwards. Surely I had to give our marriage another shot?
So, I’d stuck it out, convinced that each time I felt the back of his hand it’d be the last.
Now, bandaged and bruised, I knew I would never make that mistake again.
‘You can stay with me,’ Mum soothed. ‘You never have to see him again.’
Only, it wasn’t that simple. ‘He won’t let me go without a fight,’ I sighed. ‘He says I’m his property.’
I had to get as far away from him as possible, make a fresh start.
I filed for divorce, changed my phone number, packed my things while he was at work, and got a transfer to another legal firm 100 miles away six weeks later.
Moving into my new flat, I felt so lonely. To take my mind off things, I threw myself into work.
It wasn’t hard, especially as I had to go on an important business trip with my new boss Baz – my chance to make a good impression.
Baz, 41, was great company, always smiling and chatting.
For the first time in months, I realised I was laughing again.
We spent the evenings eating in the hotel restaurant, talking about anything and everything.
By the end of the trip, I found myself confiding in him.
‘I can’t believe anyone would treat you like that,’ he said, staring at me stunned. ‘I could never do that to someone.’
Then he sighed. ‘I know what it’s like to be let down by the person you love, though.’
It turned out he’d just come out of a long-term relationship, too.
‘I found out she’d been cheating on me for three years,’ he told me. ‘I felt a right idiot.’
I nodded sympathetically. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would cheat on him, he was lovely. Laid-back and easy-going, he didn’t seem bothered by money or power. How different to John.
Another day, he said: ‘I work to live, not the other way around.’
It was funny how I’d once been in awe of John’s determination. Now, seeing how Baz didn’t mind not being in control all the time, I had to admit I preferred his way.
He was right – life was for living, and I’d put mine on hold for John for far too long.
So, when Baz asked me out a week later, I said yes.
We spent the days working together, and evenings at fancy restaurants. Before long, we were inseparable. When he asked me to move in with him a month later, I was thrilled and agreed.
But a nagging voice inside my head was screaming that it was too soon. I’d rushed into my relationship with John, and look where that’d got me!
What if Baz changed, too? What if history repeated itself? Was I a magnet for violent men?
Worry niggled at me, but I pushed it away. ‘This time, things will be different,’ I reassured myself, unpacking the last of my stuff at Baz’s flat.
I couldn’t let John stop me getting on with my life.
As time wore on, I started to relax and, to my relief, Baz proved he was one of the good guys.
Out for dinner one night, though, I caught my breath as I glanced
out of the window.
Was that…? It couldn’t be…
Baz noticed the way I’d frozen, like a rabbit caught in headlights.
‘What’s wrong?’ he frowned.
‘I-I thought I saw…’ I stammered, looking again. Rain pattered against the window, but whoever had been there was gone.
I must’ve been going crazy. John couldn’t know where I was. I hadn’t heard from him since I’d left.
‘Love, what’s the matter?’ Baz asked, taking my hand. ‘You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’
‘I thought I saw John,’ I croaked.
‘Are you sure?’ He turned, following my gaze out the window.
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘Maybe I’ve had too much wine, or my eyes are playing tricks on me. It couldn’t have been him…’
‘Come on,’ he smiled. ‘Let’s get home, have an early night.’
I smiled back gratefully. Back home, I felt safer.
‘See, there’s nothing to worry about,’ Baz grinned, handing me a cuppa, and flopping on to the sofa beside me. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he kissed the top of my head.
‘I won’t let anyone hurt you,’ he murmured into my hair.
That night, snuggled beside him in bed, I thanked my lucky stars. I’d finally found my Mr Right.
I felt like I’d only just dozed
off when the bedroom light suddenly flicked on.
‘Baz?’ I groaned, groggily. What on earth was he up to?
Hold on, my arm was still draped over his chest – how had he switched the light on from here?
Turning my head to look at the bedroom door, my heart stopped.
Suddenly, I was wide awake as a figure stalked into the room.
‘John!’ I choked.
His dark eyes looked black and menacing against his pale skin. His mouth turned up at the corners into an eerie smile.
‘What do you want?’ My voice wobbled as I shook Baz awake. ‘Who…what…?’ he mumbled, rolling over.
‘I knew you were having an affair,’ John spat. ‘I’m delivering your punishment.’
Raising his right hand, I noticed for the first time he was holding something. A gun.
Suddenly, Baz was wide awake and sitting up. ‘Look mate, let’s talk about this,’ he said.
He sounded so calm, but I could feel his body inching closer to mine as if he wanted to wrap me up and shield me from John.
‘I’m not talking to you,’ John seethed. Taking a step closer, he ripped the duvet off, and aimed…
‘No!’ I screamed, trying to throw myself in front of Baz.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Blood arced across the room, splattering the wall and ceiling.
‘Baz!’ I screamed.
His blood splashed across my face as it pumped from a gaping wound in his groin.
John had shot him between the legs, taking out his manhood.
‘That’ll teach him to steal my property,’ John hissed, taking another step closer.
‘Your turn,’ he growled, grabbing my ankles, trying to pull my legs apart.
‘Please, don’t…’ I shrieked, kicking against him, struggling to yank my legs free from his grip.
As another shot pierced the air, I felt my legs go numb.
The silence was deafening in the split-second it took before an overwhelming pain ripped through me, then I was screaming and howling, and John left.
I was so blind with pain I didn’t notice Baz had stopped moving.
Just when I thought it would never end, the room suddenly faded into darkness…
Waking up, I realised it must’ve all been a bad dream. I was alive, here in bed, like every other day. Except… no… this wasn’t my bed.
The bleeping monitors and nurses didn’t belong in our room, and Mum was here again, holding my hand, just like the last time John had put me in a hospital bed.
‘Thank God!’ she gasped, as I blinked
up at her. ‘I thought we’d lost you. John shot you in the stomach and the thigh.’
My mouth was dry as sand. but I managed one word. ‘Baz?’
Mum’s face fell.
She shook her head sadly, as tears welled in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, love, but he lost too much blood,’ she whispered.
Pain tore through me again.
Just as excruciating as when I’d been shot, but this time no amount of morphine could ease the agony of my heart breaking.
Police arrived to take my statement. They’d already arrested John after a neighbour heard the shooting and called them.
John had admitted killing Baz, and attempting to kill me.
‘How did he get into our home?’ I asked the police.
‘He found out where you were living, and had a key cut,’ an officer told me.
God knows how he’d done that, but I knew John’s determination – he could make anything happen if he wanted it badly enough.
In court, he was convicted of murder, and attempted murder, and faces up to 15 years in prison.
It’s nothing compared to what he’s taken from me, though. For weeks after Baz’s death, I could
do nothing but cry.
Then, one day, I had a visitor – Baz’s mum Diana.
Guilt and shame flooded me.
She must want to have a go at me for dragging him into my mess!
‘You must hate me,’ I whispered, too ashamed to look at her.
Gently cupping my chin in her hand, she lifted my face until our eyes met.
My breath caught as I saw warm brown eyes gazing back – so much like Baz’s.
‘A few days before he died, I got a call from my son,’ Diana said.
‘He said he’d met the woman of his dreams, and he was going to marry her as soon as he could afford a ring and find the right moment to propose.’
Sobs shook my body as she continued.
‘My boy loved you very much,’ she smiled. ‘And I want to thank you for making him so happy.’
Wrapping my arms around her, I hugged her tight, and we cried together, united in grief.
We’ve stayed in touch, and are helping each other come to terms with what happened.
I’d always worried that my relationship with Baz was too good to last – and it turned out I was right, in the most terrible way…
Natasha Maslova, 36, Harrogate, North Yorkshire