I wish I never met you

I'm sharing these stories because they involve a public person who's not convicted (yet) for assaulting and raping me, and is still out there, and is able to potentially hurt other people. I'm pleading fair comment on a public person in this article, so I'm able to share these stories and possible files, videos and/or other evidence to support my story and through it warn others. A Fair comment is a legal term for common law defense in defamation. It gives a person the possibility to criticize and comment on matters of public interest without being liable for defamation provided that the comment is an honest expression of opinion (about facts or events). It is referred to as honest comment in some countries, and it's used to give people the possibility to legally share information about a public person for example. The idea behind a fair comment is that it's not slander when you're telling the truth about a public person, and thus, can warn others about them.

[Scheduled on July 19]

I don't know why I'm still here. Why did I even come?

Exurb1a stands up from behind his computer, and shouts at me. I'm standing in the middle of his 'office', with my bag in one hand, my phone in the other. From the corner of my eye, I check all possible exit areas. Should I go? I've said what I wanted to say.

"You have a problem," I say, also raising my voice. "You need to take responsibility for what you did. You abused me."
"So you're going to the police and file a report? It will ruin my career," he shouts.
"You abused me," I repeat. "I've protected you because you were my boyfriend, but I shouldn't have. I should have reported you the next day... I wanted to give you a chance, because I thought you were sorry, but you weren't really, you didn't show any -"
"So this was all for nothing?" Exurb1a shouts. "I'll never get a job!"
"You have a job. Youtube won't go away," I reply.
"I'll get a criminal record!" Exurb1a shouts, waving his hands. He walks around, stops, turns around, and looks me straight in the eye.
"I really wish I never met you."
His eyes are cold but spit fire at the same time. I feel something break, deep, inside me. I came here to do the right thing. I came here to tell him, until here, and no further. I even gave him the opportunity to explain himself. I wanted to do it the right way, by speaking with him first, in person. Because I respected our relationship that much. Because I respected our friendship that much. Did it all mean nothing? Did it only mean something, as long as I believed the mask? As long as I helped him? Every time he said I pulled him out of his dark place, were those just meaningless words? Every enchanting moment, every beautiful word he wrote? That his creativity was linked to me, and even his claims that he thanked his career to me? 
I don't know what to say. Is this the man who dedicated his first book to me, because he was so glad how much I helped him with youtube? The man whom I told a few days ago I had a positive pregnancy test? A man who is now furious I'm going to press charges against him for assaulting and sexually abusing me. It's all he cares about. How is any of this my fault? He knew what kind of person I was when it came to things that are right and wrong. Apparently I'm a monster now, for having morals, and wanting to do the right thing? How was I blindsided from his real nature for so long? He doesn't care about anyone, except himself. 

"Thanks," is all, I can say. He's said enough for the both of us. 
The same man in front of me, told me 2 weeks earlier out of the blue he "might wanted to have kids with me one day". I met his parents 6 weeks ago, when I drove him from the Netherlands to the UK. Brought him to every family and friend he wanted to visit. I introduced him to my son, because he specifically asked if he could meet him. And now, this same man regrets ever meeting me. Because I just told him I'm going to report him for the crimes he committed. That he got drunk and assaulted me to the point where he had my arms locked and I was crying and begging him to let me go because he was hurting me. He didn't.
There was no trigger. We hadn't been in a fight at all. He was drunk, lost control, and assaulted me out of nowhere. After it happened, I went upstairs to the bedroom, because I couldn't convince him to stop drinking and to go to bed. He had a few more drinks, finally came upstairs even more drunk, and instantly climbed on top of me, and started kissing me aggressively. There was no passion, or love, present at all. 

I said no, but he didn't stop.
Easy access, because I was only wearing a top.
Especially for a strong man,
who runs the 10k just for fun. 
I'll never sleep without pants again.
No matter, how warm the sun.

"You told me the day after it happened that I should go to the police if you abused me," I say. I hear my voice break. What hasn't he broken inside me yet?
"But I'll get a criminal record!" Exurb1a shouts again. "God, I wish I never met you!"
I'm done. I'm done being blamed for all this. I don't get it. One minute he tells me I have to report him, and the next minute I shouldn't? 
I leave the room, stand still, and then turn around.
"You should see what you're like drunk," I say.
"What?" he says.
I pull up my phone, open videos, and click a file.
I don't know why I'm doing it. Something tells me I shouldn't do this. But what if he really does not remember? What if he really believes he didn't do it, because he was too drunk to recall it? What if he thinks he's innocent? How can I trust him? I know he lied to me before. He admitted he lied a lot throughout his life, but said he'd try not to do it with me. But what if he really can't remember it?
Exurb1a comes closer, and watches the video in silence. When it's finished, I take back my phone, click another video, and let him watch it next.
"I recorded it two nights after, when we had a fight over my friend who committed suicide," I say. "You were drunk again and mean, and I didn't know if you were going to lose it again or not. I recorded it so you could see it. What you're like drunk. You're horrible, most of the time. But you always act like nothing happened. There are nastier videos in there."
I put my phone back in my bag.
"I.. I didn't know," Exurb1a mumbles. "That was.. That was horrible, seeing myself like that. I was incredibly rude to you, and about your friend who died. I wouldn't respect someone who was like that with me," he finishes.
"You were like that with me. And you just told me you wished you never met me, while you abused me, and lied to me. While months ago you claimed you thanked your career to me. And now, suddenly, you say you wish you never met me. While I've done nothing but help and protect you."
I close my bag.
This is not happening. This is not real. Why am I so stupid and naive?
I grab the suitcase Exurb1a borrowed from me, in the corner of the living room. I check if my GoPro is in it, since he used it for one of his videos. When I see it's there, I close the suitcase and leave.
He speaks words, but I don't hear them. I just go.
Down the stairs, down to the street. Google Maps. Police station. Where's my bloody 4G?
Loading... Loading...
Police station 4, Sofia. About a twenty minute walk away.

 Timeline of Events Inside the System
Inside the System is a blog series about mental health, being hospitalised, fellow patients, and the things I've experienced last few months. I started to write because I had no idea how to deal with what was happening, and because I wanted something I could read back, that would remind me where I never want to be again in my life, emotionally.  The ITS blogs will be uploaded non-chronologically, but the actual time-line in which these events happened can be found here (and will be updated once new blogs follow). 
The Inside The System series is part of Project Blue is a Wave. does not display third party advertisements because we believe information and knowledge that informs or protects the public, should be (clutter)free.

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