Leo’s violence towards me only increased with time.

One day, it got too much for me. Leo walked into the kitchen, shouting abuse at me before throwing an unripe banana at my face. Terrified and shaking, I rang Gitelle, who told me to call the police.

I did so. Finally, the fear of the immediate was more powerful than the fear of leaving Leo. I was a shell of myself, and needed to survive.

I cowered in the hall for two hours before the police arrived. When they did, they walked into the bedroom. Leo was on the bed, calmly reading the paper. He didn’t question their presence, but did argue about his weapon of choice.

The police put Leo in handcuffs, and he did not look at me as they led him away.

I stood watching, silently. Leo had gone.