Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. Nobody knows until they've been in those shoes.

"If he hit me, I'd hit him back!" scoffed one colleague.

"It should never happen twice." said my mum.

I know they mean well. I hope they do, but it's not so easy, is it? I mean, I've read the stats. More women are killed after leaving their abusive partner. I suppose its something to do with regaining power or something. Isn't everything about power. Being the top dog. I didn't want to be another number. A statistic to be recited at will. I wanted to be the winner. See, it is all about power.

I planned it all in meticulous detail. After having every ounce of free will beaten out of me for a decade, I took pleasure in the detail. I made lists, tucking them away in the back of my underwear drawer. I developed codes in case I was ever found out. I was careful and organised and more importantly in control. It felt so good. You can't even begin to imagine. I was on my way to a new life. Freedom.

As I wiped the blood from the blade, I inhaled deeply. This is my moment. This is it. Freedom smells like fresh blood mixed with thick bleach.