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In too deep...

Trapped in a marriage with a violent husband would I escape alive...


Published by: Jessica Gibb
Published on: 10 November 2011

Marry in haste, repent at leisure they say. Well, for me, that was definitely true.
A whirlwind nine months after meeting through a dating agency, I'd wed Darius Meredith. I'd felt beautiful in my lilac and blue dress - and safe in my husband's arms.
Now tears dripped on to the wedding album as I flicked through. I didn't recognise the woman grinning confidently from the pictures.
Instead, I was slightly hunched from trying to make myself smaller to avoid the slaps and punches, had dark circles under my eyes.
How could I have changed so much in five years?
Things had gone wrong as soon as we were on honeymoon. On our first evening in Zante, we'd gone to a taverna.
‘You're looking lovely, madam,' the waiter had smiled, seating us.
‘Thank you,' I'd giggled. Anger had flashed across Darius's eyes.
‘Don't talk to him!' he'd hissed, gripping my hand so tight that it hurt.
‘I used to be in the territorial army,' Darius, 43, had growled. ‘I could get you bumped off.'
I'd run away then - how I wished now that I'd never stopped.
But when Darius had caught up with me, he'd seemed so sorry I'd forgiven him instantly. After all, before that, he'd always been so gentle and loving - and great with my kids Alex, 19, and Natalie, 15.
Back home though, I'd quickly learned about Darius's temper.
The first time he'd hit me, we'd been arguing about an ex of his when - wham! He'd slammed his fist into my face.
Blood had exploded from my nose and I'd staggered back, too stunned to speak. Not Darius though. ‘Look what you did! You walked into my fist!'
Why hadn't I ended things then? I think I'd hoped he'd get better. I'd been so wrong. Over the years, I'd lost count of the times he'd slapped, punched, kicked me.
Wiping tears from the album now, I shook my head, knowing I was reaching breaking point. Constantly on edge, being the perfect wife so he wouldn't flip...
I wanted to be that happy-go-lucky woman in the photos again. Wanted rid of the scared, beaten- down person I'd become.
I noticed Darius standing by the back door. Odd, something was tucked into his belt...
One of our chopping knives!
He gave me an evil grin, then sauntered into the garden. I shivered with fear. What was he up to? I crept out into
the garden.
‘My God,' I gasped. Sticking out of the dirt, among my roses, were three knives.
The weirdo was loving it, a sick smile on his lips. He wasn't just hitting me, he was messing with my head! Something inside me snapped. I had to draw a line somewhere - and this was it.
Next day, I sneaked to a solicitor... and filed for divorce. I didn't know if I felt brave or terrified, but at least I was in charge of my life again.
Arriving home, I found Darius watching TV. Two knives were tucked in his belt.
‘I know you're trying to get a divorce,' he snapped. My heart stopped. My instinct was to deny it... No. From now on, I was standing up for myself. ‘You can't stop me,' I said.
‘Marriage is forever,' he sneered, slowly drawing one
of the knives.
He was bluffing. He was a nasty piece of work, but he'd never stab me. ‘I want you gone,' I insisted.
Darius looked at me quizzically - I'd never stood up to him before. Then he left the room.
Phew! It took two weeks for him to get out of the house completely.
Three days later, he hammered on the door. I ran into the front room, and opened the window.
‘Let me in, I've been sleeping rough and lost my keys,' he begged.
‘No, you're dangerous!' I said.
Suddenly, he lunged forwards, swiping a six-inch knife through the open window.
‘No!' I yelled. But as I looked down, I frowned. A red stain was spreading over my white pyjama top. Then the pain erupted - he'd stabbed me.
Blood was pumping from my stomach. As I screamed in shock and pain, Darius ran off - just as Natalie rushed in, wearing her pyjamas.
‘Ambulance,' I croaked. While she dialled, I lurched into the kitchen, put a tea towel over my wound, then slumped into a chair.
‘Don't die,' Natalie begged. Alex appeared, too. He burst into tears. ‘I'll be fine,' I promised, as I was loaded into the ambulance.
At the hospital, a doctor examined my three-inch wound. ‘Any higher and the knife would have gone straight into your heart,' he said.
My muscle had been sliced through. I was given six stitches, then allowed home.
Next morning, a policeman tapped on my door. ‘We caught Darius this morning,' he explained. ‘He was about a mile away, trying to board a bus heading back towards your house.'
My evil ex admitted wounding with intent to cause grievous bodily harm at Wolverhampton Crown Court, and was jailed for four years and eight months. He was also given a 10-year restraining order, forbidding him from having any contact with me. Once he was locked up, our divorce went through uncontested.
Eight months on, the kids and me are rebuilding our lives. We wake each day without fear - and the happy, strong woman from my wedding photos is finally coming back. I'll never let her disappear again.
Paula Meredith, 44, Willenhall, Walsall