I Know Your Every Move

by Diane Ezzard

  “What have you done, you idiot?” I heard his raised voice through the fog. I felt like a zombie, and my speech was slurred.

  “I took some pills.”

  “What did you want to go and do a silly thing like that for?”

  Slowly, I spoke, “Just let me sleep, Jay.” I went back into semi-consciousness. I was upset that I was still alive. My confusion and oblivion were better than the reality I had been living.

  I never told a soul what happened that day and Jay never mentioned it. It wasn’t long though before my body started reacting to my overdose. I began to haemorrhage badly and had intense and severe stomach pains. I took too much time off work, and they weren’t happy about it. They called me in for an interview and asked me how my home life was. This could have been my opportunity to say something, but I was too scared.

  I always thought they suspected something because makeup wouldn’t always hide the bruising but my pride wouldn’t let me speak. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. The pains got so bad I was admitted to hospital and whilst there I realised I had to find the courage to leave Jay. He never came to see me. He could never take any pressure or stress. He ran away whenever there was a problem. I felt alone, weak, depressed and frightened. I needed to make a move, but I didn’t think I could do it on my own. The final straw came for me shortly after that. Physically, my body was on the mend but mentally I was almost beaten. I still had a glimmer of hope I would survive this if I could only get away. I had been thinking about going for what seemed like an eternity.

  We went on a night out into Manchester. Jay was drunk and after leaving the pub, he held my hand walking down the street.

  He was laughing and joking but then in an instant, his mood changed and in an angry voice, he shouted: “You need to walk faster.” I struggled to keep up with him so he started running and I lost my footing. He began to drag me through the streets. He tugged hard at my arm.

  “Come on you bitch. What’s the matter with you?” I was crying.

  “Please Jay, slow down. Please, Jay, let me go. Please stop.” I tried to pull myself away and then in exasperation, he let go of me. A car just avoided knocking me over and Jay was so infuriated he started kicking me. Each time his boot went in was more painful than the last. He always kicked me in the stomach as he said there would be no bruising there so no one would know he had attacked me. I lay there praying for him to stop. Eventually, he did, and he ran off. I was inconsolable, the tears poured out. I thought if I was to make a move, it was now or never. I hailed a taxi down and took the decision to leave Jay. I was going to go back to my parents’ home.

  Chapter Ten

  THEN

  That first night back home I should have felt safe. I felt anything but. I arrived back at my parents’ home just after midnight having scraped enough money together for the taxi fare. As soon as I sat on the back seat of the black cab, the taxi driver was on my case.

  “Are you alright, love?” he asked as he looked in the mirror at my distressed state.

  “My boyfriend just attacked me again. Can you take me to Whitefield? I want to go to my mum and dad’s house.” My words were interspersed with sobs.

  “Course I can, love. I don’t know, you young girls today. What’s a good-looking girl like you doing with a moron who does that to you?” He continued to lecture me for the rest of the journey which, unfortunately, I could hear through my tears. I wasn’t in the mood for talking or listening even though I realised everything he said was true. I should have left Jay the first time he hit me but at the time I convinced myself he wouldn’t do it again. Now looking back, I wasn’t even sure why I’d stayed. I wanted someone to love and care for me. I had glimpses of that with Jay but I failed to heed the warnings when his behaviour began to change. Sat in the taxi, whimpering, I was able to see things for what they were.

  For the majority of our time together he had been putting me down. He was excessively jealous. I thought about when the window cleaner came round. Jay had to be there, checking up on me. I had never given him any cause to be like that and it so upset me that he didn’t trust me. I was annoyed with myself now. I saw how slowly I allowed him to control my life. From deciding what I wore, to contact with friends, he had the final say. I let him take over my life. My previous strong will dissolved around Jay. I soon learnt that trying to put my foot down and have my own way only ended in a beating. I felt so bad about the way I casually dumped my friends and family to please him.

  At first, I did anything he said, but he knew that and played on it. He had the upper hand in the relationship most definitely; so much so I no longer knew what I desired. When I bought food, it was things Jay liked. When we watched TV, we watched what Jay wanted. I saw that I never made him happy and my best was never good enough. The constant criticism ate away at my self-esteem and I felt worthless and empty. I lost any self-confidence I had, and I was so lonely. The tears flowed as I listened to the words of the taxi driver. They were exactly the kind of thing those who loved me would have said if I’d have let them get close enough to see how bad the situation was.

  When my dad opened the door to me, he looked shocked. His reaction moved me. I knew I looked gaunt and tired. With the bruising to my face, cuts, puffy eyes and swollen lip, it was a lot to take in for my parents.

  “Come in, love,” Dad held his arms open to me. There was no animosity or reference to our previous rift. Mum stood there in her dressing gown and no words were said. She hugged me and the tears flowed. My dad’s way of dealing with a crisis was to offer me a cup of tea and a slice of toast. It was met with an appreciative nod from me. Mum lent me a nightie as I hadn’t exactly come prepared and I took my supper up to bed. It was late and there would be plenty of time for talking in the morning.

  Settling down to enjoy my toast, at least I felt safe now. The next thing I heard was a loud bang on the bedroom window. At first, I thought a bird had flown into the glass but as the noise continued, it dawned on me that someone was throwing stones at the pane. I heard a commotion downstairs and my heart sank when I realised what had happened. Jay had followed me home.

  I hid under the duvet in the bed, eating my toast. I giggled nervously, thinking he won’t get me here, but I wasn’t completely convinced. He wasn’t taking no for an answer and I heard my dad getting annoyed with him. My dad had a temper, and he shouted at Jay.

  “She doesn’t want to see you. Get out before we call the police!” I remained upstairs and listened. I couldn’t hear any response from Jay but I didn’t imagine he would take any notice of my dad’s threats. I was right. Next thing I heard Jay’s voice pleading with my dad.

  “Just let me speak to her. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “I think you’ve done enough damage laddie. Now get yourself out of here!” I was glad my dad was standing up to Jay, but he wasn’t aware at that point what a monster he was. I just wanted to shut out the whole unpleasant experience, and I already regretted the stress I had brought on my family. A few minutes later, I heard Mum’s voice speaking to the police on the phone so my parents were carrying out their threats.

  Jay disappeared before the police arrived. I wasn’t able to give the officer much information about Jay when he turned up. I knew Jay wouldn’t stay at the flat if I wasn’t there. The constable was sympathetic when he saw my appearance. He gave me a special number to ring if I had any more problems. He told me he’d arrange for the police to keep a closer eye on our property for the time being in case Jay came back.

  The next day I took time off work to move out of the flat. Even though my bedroom at Mum and Dad’s had now been turned into a sewing room for Mum, Stephanie’s room still had a bed in it. They told me I could stay for as long as I wanted. My dad came with me to help me with my things in case there was any sign of Jay but thankfully he was nowhere to be seen. My parents were naturally upset when I told them what had been happening. It was inconceivable to them that their daughter could have been taken in by a monster.r />
  The phone calls and text messages started. There must have been over fifty times a day when Jay tried to get in touch. At first, these were to my mobile, but I stopped answering that, then I had his number blocked. He always found new ways and new numbers to get through on. He got other people to speak to me first then took the phone so that he could threaten me again. I had to get my number changed. I was furious at the inconvenience but if it meant having a quiet life, then I was prepared to do it. I didn’t get a quiet life, anything but.

  He managed to find out the number for the house phone. Every time he got through, his tone was pure evil, threatening to kill me for what I had done to him. I detested his gruff demanding voice. His words were constant and menacing, repeating the same thing over and over. Sometimes, my parents took the call and he would try intimidating them, saying he was coming round if they didn’t put me on the line. They took no notice of his demands but I’m sure that on occasions they were as worried as I was by his scaremongering. It became a regular occurrence to have the police there checking up that I was okay.

  On one occasion, PC Briggs arrived after I’d received a particularly abusive and vicious call. While he was there Jay phoned again and PC Briggs took hold of the receiver.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’re going to put the phone down now and not ring again.” The policeman’s voice sounded stern.

  He told Jay in no uncertain terms, “This has to stop now.” So what did Jay do? He tried to terrorise the policeman as well. Unfortunately, I was still unable to help the police in giving them any valuable information about Jay. I had no idea where he would be staying. I knew little about his life, even though we had been together for two years. He only ever told me what he wanted me to know, keeping a lot of things to himself.

  His whole time then became centred on stalking me, morning, noon and night. His sole purpose seemed to be to harass me and try to make my life as difficult as he said I made his. It got so bad I changed my route to work as he was too familiar with my schedule. Luckily, I was on flexible hours so I didn’t have a set start time. If I drove into the office, I saw him by the car park. If I got the tram in, he’d be waiting by the station and the same if I tried the bus route. He knew my whereabouts and my actions better than I knew myself.

  One time, I left work at the earliest possible opportunity, thinking I might be able to shake him off. I walked down to my bus stop in Piccadilly in Manchester. I was constantly looking to the side and behind me for any signs of him as he generally lurked around the city centre. I stood there anxiously waiting for my bus, feeling that once I was on it, I’d be safe. I knew a bus was due, and I kept checking my watch.

  Come on, come on. I was willing the bus to arrive. Then I happened to glance to my right into the newsagent’s shop next to the bus stop. As the shop door opened, I stared in horror as there was Jay walking out with a big proud grin on his face. I ran as fast as I could towards Piccadilly Gardens. He chased after me shouting abuse. Swerving the crowds, I managed to head him off. I could hear he wasn’t far behind me. My heart was racing, and I had to think quickly. Do I try to hide somewhere or go where there are lots of people around? I chose the latter and made my way into Debenham’s for safety. He caught up with me in the store and pushed me into a stand of clothes, kicking me to the ground and punching me forcefully.

  “You’re never going to get away from me, you little slut.” His face looked contorted in a grimace. I screamed for help but most people just turned away and didn’t want to get involved.

  A security guard arrived and Jay disappeared. The security man was really kind to me.

  “Do you want me to call the police for you, love?” he asked. I shook my head. I didn’t want any fuss. He took me to a staff room and made me a cup of tea. I just wanted to get home and have a nice bath and soothe my aching limbs but he did insist on calling me a cab to take me home.

  Events like this continued. I’d go a couple of days without seeing Jay. I’d start to believe he had given up, then like something out of a horror movie I’d be walking home from work late at night and he’d jump out of a bush in front of me. I was constantly on edge and forever trying to outwit him.

  It was like a game of cat and mouse and sadly he appeared to be winning. It wore me down. I hated it at night if my parents went out as I was often gripped with fear that he might turn up. I spent one evening in the darkened pantry at our home as I convinced myself he was on the way. Any feelings I had towards Jay were now well and truly gone. I loathed him, not only for what he was doing to me but also because of the effect it was having on those close to me. I was too afraid to take him to court. He always threatened that if I did take any action against him, he would hound me for the rest of my life. Given what was happening to me, I had no reason to doubt that, and I wasn’t willing to risk it. Any mental strength I had was knocked out of me and I became timid and afraid.

  I longed for the day when it would all be over and I would get back to living a normal life. I spent all my time planning how to stay one step ahead of Jay. I felt like a prisoner trapped in a world that Jay knew inside out.

  At work, I stopped going out on my lunch break in case he was hanging around outside, which he normally was. On one occasion, I had forgotten to bring my pack lunch in and didn’t fancy going up to the canteen. Even though one of the girls offered to go to the shop for me, I decided to chance it myself. I plucked up the courage and stepped out of the office doors. It was foolish of me to suspect he wouldn’t be there.

  This time he attacked me from behind and had me in a neck hold, banging my head against Greggs’ window.

  “Thought you’d get away from me, did you?” he spat at me. “I’ll show you, you slag.” As each word grew louder and stronger, he emphasised his threats by bouncing my head against the shop window on every syllable. Those inside the shop looked on in disbelief, then turned and looked away. No one ever wanted to get involved and who could blame them with this mad psychopath. It was as though members of the public were embarrassed by what they were seeing and that if they ignored it, it would go away. I vowed never to leave someone in the sort of distress I’d experienced whatever the consequences.

  There was an occasion, months down the line when I had been brave enough to go out shopping with Becky from work. I hadn’t told many people the full extent of what had been happening to me but I confided in Becky. She said she understood my desire for keeping it quiet as I didn’t want it public knowledge that I dated a lunatic. Becky told me some time later that when I recounted all the stories to her about what had been going on, she figured it was all rather far-fetched. She said she thought I had been dramatising things and had been watching too many action movies. That was until the day we were walking along Piccadilly, chatting away and I looked up and saw Jay coming towards us.

  Becky realised straight away that something was wrong by my nervousness.

  As he approached, he started shouting abuse, and she whispered into my ear, “Leave him to me.” She began shouting back at Jay to stay away from me. The next thing I knew, he had her by the hair, pulling her to the ground and was kicking her. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe he would attack my friend.

  I jumped on his back and began thumping him so he turned on me then and dragged me to the floor. He swung me about like a rag doll and the punching and kicking started. After a while, he ran off, as he always did and Becky and I were left to pick ourselves up. I couldn’t apologise enough to Becky, but she just put her arm around me and said she would be there for me all she could.

  Living in fear became a way of life for me, and I couldn’t remember knowing any different. Drama was a daily occurrence, and our family got to know the two policemen who were forever frequenting our home after either another attack or threat of one. PC Caldwell tried his hardest to talk me into making a formal complaint.

  “Sophie, just think, if you take out an injunction against him, it will make your life so much better. If he tries to come
near you, then he’ll get arrested.” He wanted me to do it myself as he said because it was a domestic issue it would be harder for them to get a prosecution. PC Briggs tried to use emotional blackmail on me.

  “He could be doing this to other poor women if you don’t put a stop to it, Sophie.” I did make a statement once, only to detract it after losing my nerve. I was too afraid to go ahead with anything formal. Jay kept harping on about not leaving me alone if I did anything foolish.

  I didn’t like PC Caldwell. He was obviously now fed up of the continuing saga as we all were. He told me I should take better care of myself as people out there were getting themselves murdered. I didn’t find that helpful at all, and I thought he was insensitive. I was feeling bad enough and constantly under pressure. Although my mum and dad didn’t know it as I kept it well hidden, I was drinking half a bottle of vodka a night to help me sleep and numb the pain.

  It had been a terrifying year. There hadn’t been one moment when I hadn’t been afraid. Tightness in my gut and chest was the norm. I didn’t know what it felt like to have peace of mind, but I longed for the day when it would all end.

  Chapter Eleven

  THEN

  The arguments between my parents were as bad as ever, and we all lived on a knife’s edge and I thought I was to blame. Mum started learning to drive. She always relied on dad to take her everywhere, but she now felt she wanted more independence.

  I came home from work one day, and my mum wasn’t home. That was unusual as she only worked part time. Then I saw a note in her handwriting addressed to my dad on the kitchen table. Straightaway, my breathing stopped, and I rushed upstairs to look in her wardrobe. All her clothes had gone. I dived back downstairs and went to steam open the letter.