LYING on the bathroom floor, beaten black and blue, I drifted in and out of consciousness, thinking about my baby asleep in the next room and wondering if this was the end.
It was July 2017, and I was at the home I shared with my husband Sebastian Swamy, then 40, our 13-month-old son Finn*, and my seven-year-old son Alfie* from a previous relationship.
It was the one place I should have felt safe, but I didn’t, because Sebastian was a violent bully who made me think I couldn’t live without him.
When we were introduced through friends in February 2014, he seemed perfect.
A telecoms manager, he was handsome, charming and patient with Alfie, and when he moved in with us after three months, I thought I’d found my soulmate.
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My family and friends expressed doubts, as he’d occasionally disappear for days at a time, returning home drunk.
But I was in love. Though I had a successful job as an operations manager at Manchester Airport, I’d been so lonely – now, Sebastian made me feel special and cared for.
But just weeks after he moved in, the violence started. One night when I got home, I found traces of white powder, which looked like cocaine, on a table.
When I confronted Sebastian, he exploded, slapping me and shouting at me to shut up. I was in shock as I ran to the bedroom shaking.
The next morning he apologised, promising he’d never do it again. I desperately wanted to believe him. This was supposed to be my happy ending – surely it was just a one-off?
Eight months after we met, we married at the local register office. I told Sebastian – and myself – it was the happiest day of my life, although deep down I had doubts.
Sure enough, the violence escalated once we were married, usually when he was hungover.
He slapped me, dangled me over the stair bannister, put pillows over my face and ripped my hair out.
Each time, he promised it was the last – and I’d believe him. In between these moments, he was still the loving, charismatic man I’d fallen for, so I stayed, telling myself things would get better.
In 2015, I became pregnant and Sebastian began drinking more. He stopped being violent, but continued to be verbally abusive, putting me down and telling me I was stupid.
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By now, my self-esteem was so low, I believed everything he said. I was also worried how I’d cope with a second baby on my own, so I felt I had to keep our family together.
Once I had Finn in June 2016, the violence resumed. I tried to cover up my bruises and, when I was really scared, I’d call the police, who’d take Sebastian away.
But I always refused to press charges, as I was too terrified. He had me totally under his control, so I’d always let him come back.
By then, I’d confided in my mum, who begged me to leave, telling me that if I didn’t, I’d end up in a body bag. But I knew Sebastian would never let me go willingly – and part of me still hoped he’d change.
Then came the attack that changed everything. That day, after a 12-hour shift, I collected Finn from nursery and headed home.
Alfie was staying over at his dad’s and I waited for Sebastian to get back from a night out.
'Trying to kill me'
I’d begged him not to get drunk and he’d promised he wouldn’t, but he rolled in at 11pm, staggered upstairs and was sick in the toilet.
When he’d finished, he suddenly punched me in the neck. I fell to the floor and he stamped on my back, then my chest, shouting: ‘’I’ve had enough of you. You need to shut up.’’
Taking my mobile phone to stop me calling 999, he left me on the floor. I was in agony, but I somehow staggered out into the street, where I told a couple of strangers: “My husband’s trying to kill me.”
They dialled 999 and an ambulance arrived as Sebastian sped off in his car. Bleeding and covered head to toe in footprints, I was taken to hospital with Finn.
Suddenly, everything went black and when I came to I was in a hospital bed attached to so many wires, with Mum holding my hand.
I was told my neck was broken and had caused a bleed on my spinal cord.
I kept wetting myself, couldn’t speak properly or use my hands, I had a hole in my lung, broken ribs and a broken cheekbone. I needed a 4 1/2-hour operation to repair damaged vertebrae.
Doctors told Mum I might not wake up and, if I did, I could be paralysed. Thankfully, I wasn’t, but I was left disabled, with life-changing injuries.
I couldn’t write, pick up my children or do basic tasks like fastening the buttons on their clothes, so Mum moved in to help.
Suddenly, everything went black and when I came to I was in a hospital bed attached to so many wires, with Mum holding my hand
Ashamed, depressed and angry, I barely recognised myself. How had my life come to this? If I didn’t press charges, I knew Sebastian would end up killing me, so I gave a statement to police.
After five days on the run, Sebastian handed himself in. He was put on remand for two weeks, then bailed with a tag for 19 months, and issued with a restraining order.
It was months before I was able to walk, brush my teeth, swallow, bathe and care for the kids.
Meanwhile, the case against Sebastian kept being adjourned, as he didn’t turn up to the hearing. I was so stressed that I ended up collapsing in court. My children were the only thing that got me through.
Finally, in January 2019, Sebastian was jailed for three years and four months after admitting causing grievous bodily harm, claiming he’d been drinking heavily after losing £100,000 in a scam, which I was sure was an excuse. It was such a relief.
However, he was released just six months later, after the time he’d been on bail was taken into account.
I felt failed by the system and was so terrified he was going to attack me again, I developed sleep paralysis. I’d lie there unable to move, with sweat running down my body.
I was in such a state of hypervigilance, even a knock at the door would make me jump.
Although he didn’t try to contact me directly, he did apply through the family courts for contact with Finn, which was denied.
The stress of it all triggered a nervous breakdown, and it’s taken intense trauma therapy and medication to piece myself back together.
Then, last summer, the Home Office phoned and told me Sebastian had taken his own life. On one hand, I was sad for Finn.
I want to urge others to look out for early warning signs and if in doubt, get out – before it’s too late
I’d hoped that one day, maybe Sebastian would be rehabilitated enough to have a relationship with his son. But there was enormous relief, too – at last we were safe. I could breathe.
I finally feel like myself again. I’ve retrained as a children’s trauma coach and get great satisfaction from helping people. I still have bad days, but I’m determined not to let what happened define me.
It upsets me to think how I stayed with Sebastian, but that’s how abusers work – they wear you down so much, you can’t imagine breaking free.
I want to urge others to look out for early warning signs and if in doubt, get out – before it’s too late.
- For support, visit Womensaid.org.uk.
- *Names have been changed
