Till Death Do Us Part – The True Face of Domestic Abuse

The continuous ringing was starting to make me feel slightly demented.

Not only was my heart beating at a million beats per minute but my legs were shaking like jelly.

The time was 3a.m.

I stared at my mobile phone, the name that kept coming up was just making me feel a deep despair.  I closed my eyes and wished for it all to go away. The name on the phone and the ringing.

The ringing stops momentarily and I feel myself drifting back into a lulled sleep, if only it could always be like this.

Suddenly my eyes open and I panic. Silence is not good at a time like this, silence can mean anything. I look at the time it’s now 3.15 am. That’s 15 minutes the phone hasn’t rang again, my heart sinks. I check my mobile and sure enough the last call was at 3am. The texts stopped too, last one 3.01am.

“Plz hurri, wer r u, khallaaa ansar da phn!!!!” From my youngest nephew. 

The one before that said “he iz gona kill her 2nite” From my oldest nephew. 

I was up and ready before I knew it. I dialled the number, she answered.

“He left” she replied to my first question.

“No, I’m not bleeding” was the answer to my next. She is such a bitch at times. All I asked her was if she was ok.

I told her I would be over in a few minutes. She wanted to know which one of the kids called me but i refused to answer. She will start a fight with them for calling me and telling me. Screaming “Our business will stay our business. We don’t anyone!” and bla bla.

I enter my mom’s bedroom and wake her gently to tell her that I am going round there. She just sighs and asks if he is there too and I reassure her that he isn’t but I must go as the kids are really upset. She tells me to make sure I lock the door on my way out and be sure to keep my mobile on me. Even before I left my mother’s bedroom I could hear her gentle snores again. My father I could tell was awake but he never spoke, he never does.

My father has done his bit and now knows that until she is ready to get out and stop shutting everyone out no on can help her. I admire him that he can switch of and turn a blind eye like he does. But then again I wonder, as I leave my house, what turmoil and despair he feels deep in his heart.

I arrive at my sister’s  house and wait at the door for it to be opened. I don’t need to knock or ring the bell because I know her young son knows I’m here. He was watching for me at his bedroom window. You see he always does.

He answers the door with his tear-stained face. I take one look at him and my eyes water and just hugs me and cries quietly into me. I hug him tightly, just hold him wishing him to feel safe in my arms. His tiny body shakes, I kneel down and in his ear I whisper.

“I’m here now, it’s ok” he sobs a little louder and clings to me a little tighter. At this point I hate this world and everyone in it, especially him and her. 

Once he has calmed down I get him to wash his face.  I take him to his bedroom and settle him back into bed. He asks me if I’m going to help his mom and I tell him I will check on her in a bit but first I want to make sure he is okay and settled back in bed. On hearing this he smiles and says a few words that just wrench at my heart and breaks it into a thousand pieces all over again. ” khala, I knew you would come” 

What else can Khala do was my thoughts. As much as we say that until you help yourself and get out we can’t do anything for her. Changing the locks,throwing him out and moving her in with us never worked. She always went back home and she always let him back in to terrorise her all over again.  We were fed up to the teeth, our attitude now was let her be, even with all the support we were willing to give her she couldn’t break free. 

My mom said that I am just waiting for the call now that he has killed her. 

Our only concern now were the kids. I checked on the other boy and he was in his bed on his mobile. He looked up at me and looked away, turned over and pretended he was going back to sleep. I never tried to talk to him, there was no point, I knew he was waiting for me to come and take over. Mop up her blood, tidy up and try to pick up the broken smashed fragments of her life, of their lives. 

I went into the kitchen freezer and removed a bag of peas, grabbed a tea towel and made my way to the lounge. 

She was sitting there watching T.V. “They shouldn’t have called you I’m fine!” I ignored her comment and handed her the bag of peas. She took it and held it to her swollen lip and then to her discoloring eye. The lip will be okay but her eye would be black and blue tomorrow, another few days it will be back to normal until the next time. 

I gave her the once over and was assured she was fine physically. Mentally? I didn’t even want to know.  Not that she was going to tell me. There wasn’t any point of me asking her what happened and why because all I would get would be defiance and lies. Never the truth, nothing that will make him look bad. Or nothing that will make her admit she is in a bad marriage and needs to desperately get out. Nothing to show the world that she made a bad decision and that her choices were a mistakes. 

I straightened up the room and got her a cold drink and sat with her for about an hour.  Eventually she fell asleep and I left to go home to my own bed. 


* Up to one woman in four is affected by domestic violence at some stage in their life.

* More than 500,000 women are affected each year.

* Domestic violence results in the murder of more than a hundred women each year.

* Violence within same-sex relationships and from women to men is not unheard of, but the vast majority of domestic violence (estimated at over 80%) is perpetrated by men on women.

* The police receive an estimated 360,000 999 phone calls each year connected with domestic violence by men against women.

* Domestic violence occurs across all ages, ethnic groups and social classes.

* 54,000 women and children are given protection in refuges each year.

* Despite the number of incidents reported, according to the latest figures prosecutions undertaken by the Crown Prosecution Service only numbered 13,000.

* This number represents only about 15% of the estimated arrests in suspected cases of domestic violence.

* Disabled women are twice as likely to suffer domestic violence and more likely to endure abuse.

Quote of the day – A Generation Of Critics

Those who criticize our generation forget who raised it.

I really love this quote, and it reminds of people complaining about kids and how they behave and what their attitudes are like.

The recent riots certainly make a lot of people point fingers and then also made some step back and wonder.. who is really to blame…

We can say it’s the upbringing and the parents but a carpenter can only do his best with what tools he is given. So I do think the blame at times goes further and beyond in many ways.

A very short sentence with a very deep meaning….