I got married to James the following year at the age of 20, a school drop out, and a love struck young lady.
But then, things started to change. It was subtle at first, snide remarks about my background whenever he was angry, comments about my lack of complete education and how it was demeaning and became full blown in a short while.
I found myself on the floor, against a wall, or against a table, thrown there by the very man I once held with so much love.
He was a beast after all. But I couldn't leave, I had no one to turn to. My father's friends had practically turned their backs after his death, and my grandparents were no longer alive.
I found myself in this cycle of abuse and maltreatment, with no one to turn to. I should have been somewhere in college, mingling with my peers and laughing about a karaoke from the night before. Instead, I was here, 21, married and utterly broken.
My path to redemption and safety was not easy. I tried over and over to escape, but his grip was strong.
Eventually I did escape.
It was a faithful Wednesday evening, one of the many evenings were he especially liked to vent his frustration on me for being scolded by his manager after missing his work deadline.
That day was different, he was calm, too calm.