Books About Domestic Abuse Fiction Novels & Stories

But I never imagined that women could be just as vicious. Before I married Victor, I had worked in a cafe where the manager was a woman. She always overworked me and yelled at me, for sure. I had also seen girls cussing each other out in the streets back home. But this was different. To physically violate another woman? To rip her clothes off just to humiliate her? I had never seen that kind of malice before. And the fact that it had just happened to me made my stomach turn. I started worrying about what would happen once Dominic left. Would Liam fire me? Where would I go?

"You mean the way they're dissecting her like she's some kind of specimen? The way they're turning her pain into entertainment?" Sofia set down the remote and faced me directly. "Blake, I know this is hard. But look at what's happening. The Justice Department announced they're opening an investigation into financial abuse. Three more women have come forward with similar stories about powerful men. Donations to domestic violence organizations are up four hundred percent." "And Aloe is still trapped in that mansion while the world debates whether she's a victim or a gold digger." The harsh truth of it sat between us like an accusation. For all our careful planning, for all the evidence we'd co

"They say as a woman you are meant to know. You are meant to have seeen the red flags. You are meant to have been able to tell so it's our fault? It's our fault a man lays his hands on us. A man who told us sweet nothings, bought us what we wanted, a man who treated us right at that time and we thought we were queens Lays his hands on us. Is a man even meant to hit us? Slap us? Beat us? Punch us?......" She continued pouring out and eventually concluded with this, A woman died today because of domestic abuse. Do you want to be the next? Christiana wrote it and a few tears had dropped from her eyes before she uploaded it on her blog and on her Twitter and I*******m blog pages posting a few pi

I stopped shopping in the boutique where Sophie used to work. I took my life off mute. I saw my son, Caleb, more often—now that the court had granted me full custody with monitored visitation for Daniel. We went hiking. We cooked burnt pancakes on Saturday mornings. We laughed without tension. And slowly, I started writing again. Not case notes or articles for the mental health journal. But stories. Real ones. Fictional ones. Versions of women who had burned their lives down just to build them into something sacred. I wrote about revenge. About healing. About obsession and grief and the thin line between love and destruction.

The day they came for me, everything happened so fast. The knock at the door, the uniforms, the questions that didn’t make sense — and then the handcuffs. Cold steel on my wrists. I kept thinking there had been some terrible mistake. They said my children had been abused. At first, it was him they accused. I remember defending him, swearing it couldn’t be true. Then, just when I started to doubt myself — when I began wondering if maybe I had missed something — they turned on me. They said I’d helped.

If only he was at my side, this would have been so much easy. “You don’t look so well Miss seph. Are you fine?” He asked as one of the guards set his briefcase on the table. The door closed. He even had a slight worry in his eyes as he looked at me sympathetically. “We can talk if you want” I have nothing to talk to him about. I told him that I had been a victim of domestic abuse and he said that I am lying because the Decardo family hold a clear reputation. It is because of him that I am on these weird drugs that take my soul away.

Macie suggested. "You mean domestic abuse?" He looked up. She hesitated for a second before nodding. It could be considered domestic abuse, though there had been no physical violence in the two years they were together. There had only been verbal abuse. The broken bones and gas poisoning from last month definitely counted as physical abuse. "With all this evidence, Edward will have a hard time defending himself," Xavier said. After another two and a half hours of review, they ultimately chose to pursue the case using evidence of infidelity and domestic abuse.

Was that why she went back to him after the bruises faded away and her skin was as pale as before instead of blue and black? At first, I was angry, but then I thought about all the victims of domestic abuse and realized how the abuser manipulated them. My own family was the perfect example of how the abuser authorized their control over a person, enough control for the abused to remain with the abuser for decades. I shouldn’t be the one judging Clara by her actions because I had seen very closely what she might be going through. Escaping one’s abuser was no easy task because I was a person who grew up seeing it with my own eyes.

“Seriously? I can’t believe you’re still the same cocky-ass brat from back then. I thought you’d grow up.” “Too bad,” I shrugged. “Didn’t. Trauma stunted me. Blame my mom.” She rolled her eyes and whipped the pillow back at my face. I didn’t dodge. Let it smack me square in the jaw. “Ow,” I said flatly. “Domestic abuse. Ric will hear about this. I’ll sue.” She tossed her purse onto the couch like she was this close to throwing me out the window. God. She was beautiful when she was furious.

As you read the ending and remember everything you have read so far, please, just keep in mind that this actually happened to me. When you say ''She is being stupid for putting up with it'' or ''God, Hannah should just leave him'' or ''Why does she keep forgiving him'', know it actually Why didn't I leave him, why did I keep forgiving him, and honestly, because I thought I loved him and thought he loved me. Domestic violence is something you don't really realise is happening until its too late, until you already fear them too much to leave. I took a break from this book for months because it was mentally putting me in a bad place and I haven't updated this book in a week because again, it wa