I'd been dating my boyfriend for a year when I became pregnant. Until that time, I had mistaken his anger for passion. The clever ones dont use slaps or punches - anything that can be clearly identified as the tool of a bully. They push you down the stairs, bang your head against the wall, yell at the top of their voices whilst waving their fists around their ears, push you over - I remember the moment when I became terrified of him - he bodyslammed me to the floor, crushed me with his weight (he had become very fat during my pregnancy, presumably because I was cooking bigger portions) whilst kicking, yelling and screaming, beating his fists on the floor around my head, basically like a toddler having a tantrum, except I was undernearth. He was so big and heavy, I couldnt breathe. That was the moment I realised he was so out of control, he could kill me. His anger would spark off and go crazy. My parents had made it very clear that I could not return to them, because I was pregnant (unbeknown to me, they were also dealing with dad's cancer), when I went to the council and local housing associations, they had no-where for me to go, i wasnt a priority (was it because I had no baby yet? all i remember was they couldnt help me) and because I was a student, I was not eligible for income support, so if I left, I would have no roof over my head and no way to pay for one. From that day on, I lived in fear of him and his outbursts, it took me 7 years to find a way out. When I did, I lived in isolation for years. Not able to get proper work because the school day was so short, shorter still because i had epilepsy and could not drive, and not able to find friends because I had no proper work and was not able to go out in the evening because i had a little one. Still, a struggling life alone looking after my son was better than a life in fear. But the loneliness compounded my feelings that i was to blame. If I was a better person, surely I would have friends? I yearned to speak to him, to hear his voice- the man who held my hand when our son was born, the person who stuck by me the most when no-one else did. Loneliness drove me to despair and suicide attempts. Sometimes, desperate for contact with another person, I even called him. He would tell me that I had made too much of it, that it was all my fault for being scared. I believed him. When the tv counsellors tell you how important it is to help your child maintain a good picture of his father, they dont tell you how to justify leaving an angry violent man to an 8 year old without damaging his image of his father (and hence himself). its impossible. I listened to them and chose not to revile my ex. But my son cannot help but blame me for our split. I believe the statistics in the UK are that one woman dies every four days at the hands of her partner. Given the lack of support for women who want to leave, the difficulty of leaving with one's child/children when there is no-where to go, the isolation of single mothers, and the impact of low-self esteem, the surprise should be that so many women manage to do it, somehow.