By Alice M.
January 2016, 9:00 PM.
Rome (MP) – His rough hand hit my weary face. I could feel my skin burning like fire. He looked at me with his eyes reflecting anger, despair and passion. This is the first time he has ever slapped me before. He always gets jealous if I wear a short skirt or if I put on bright red lipstick and today I got home late and didn’t prepare dinner… Maybe this is my fault. I look at my face in the mirror and I see red marks all over my pale skin. It’s definitely my fault. If I tell him that I am pregnant now, he will get mad. He always says that he doesn’t want to have kids, because “they’re just a waste of money”. He’s endlessly repeating this phrase like a mantra. Now I’ll go to bed, he will drink two or three glasses of wine and then everything will return to normal. Right?
My mom always told me to find a man who could love me forever and protect me. He loves me and maybe he is right: I am not a good wife. It’s my fault… This evening I finally told him I was pregnant, I couldn’t hold back my tears. He stared at me and then he apologized and said that he will never hurt me again: “I love you,” he told me. For the first time, I am scared of him. I’m not sure I believe him.
February 2016, 13:00
Today I wore the t-shirt he gave me on our first anniversary. I don’t think he noticed. This evening I prepared his favorite cake but he didn’t eat it, to make up for it he punched me in the stomach right where my baby, OUR baby is, yelling at me that he read the messages between John and I. John is my gynecologist and I only asked him if I could visit him tomorrow because I felt sick, but he thought it was my ex. I ran to the bathroom and cried until even my tears ran dry, I heard that he was knocking at the door and heard that he was forgiving me. I stood there, in the cramped bathroom and texted my mom.
A displaced fracture and sprained knee. The diagnosis is clear: I cannot walk for three days and I need to stay in bed for at least a week. I told my mom that I slipped on the wet floor and hit the ground. But the truth is that he spent all of his repressed rage against me, hitting me harder and harder, punching me everywhere. I collapsed on the floor, and with my last ounce of energy I called an ambulance. I don’t remember what happened next because I fainted.
This can’t go on like this. I think to myself. My life matters. It is not my fault. He doesn’t deserve me, my love and most importantly, my baby. I am worth so much more, and he cannot treat me like this.
I made my choice: when I am able to walk, the first thing I will do is to go to the police and report the abuse from my husband for what seemed like the longest 3 months of my life. My family needs to know that he is not the person I believed he was. I need to save myself before it is too late. Because a person that loves you doesn’t hurt you physically or emotionally, doesn’t hit you, discourage you, curse you.
Now I live the life I have always dreamed of with the greatest love of my life (my daughter).
I still believe in true love.
According to the Italian Newspaper “Il Fatto Quotidiano”, in Italy, 1 in 3 women will experience domestic violence; 62% of the abuses are committed by relatives and 29,6% of the women will not report the incidents to the police. In Italy, many organizations help women who are victims of domestic violence, to step out and create a better life. The lives that they and I deserve.