I tried to phone, but my other half, Derek, he watches me like a hawk. He’s very possessive, and his meds aren’t helping.
So I hope you can be my pen pal instead. I desperately need someone to talk to.
Over the last year I’ve come to realise that I’m living with a freaking psycho, a total nut job.
I‘m constantly being ridiculed, humiliated in public. He even went so far as to pin me down on a pool table and tattooed his name on my butt. He say’s I’m his bitch now, whether I like it or not.
When we are alone together, he’s even worse. He takes his frustrations out on me, physically … and yes, sexually too.
I don’t know where to turn.
I’ve considered going to the authorities, but that really wouldn’t work. No one likes a snitch in my community, so I bide my time and prayer for a better future. After all, he’s a good few years older than me, so I might outlive him.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no angel.
I’ve done some really bad shit in my life, but this last year has been a living hell. I barely sleep at night for worry, and now, my hair is starting to fall out.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe, Derek will fall out of love with me and find someone else to abuse … someone younger …with a prettier face.
No – I wouldn’t wish Derek on anyone, and besides, that might not be a good idea.
They say he battered his last wife to death, which was why he ended up in here.
Me … it was a bank job that went wrong.
Cell Number 5489 Block D
Maximum Security Wing