Domestic violence: The victim's tale

Josephine is tiny, almost fragile. She speaks in a whisper, the end of each sentence trailing away as if she is embarrassed to be heard.

She barely moves, apart from her hands which constantly twist the tissue she uses to dab her eyes.

Her body language is apologetic - penitent for being there, for breathing.

But when you hear her shocking story, it is no wonder she wants to disappear.

Josephine has been abused almost from the day she was born. Her mother, a beautiful but vicious woman, gave her none of the attention she gave her other children.

When she was about 18 months old, her older brother began to sexually abuse her.

"As I got older, I would try to hide in a cupboard. I hid behind a pile of blankets and learnt to slow my breathing down to almost nothing so he wouldn't be able to hear me. I feel I left my heartbeat in that cupboard."

But time and time again, he did find her, invading and exploiting her small body.

When she should have been able to run to her mother for safety and comfort, she found a stone cold heart and, unbelievably, further physical and sexual abuse too disturbing to detail in this newspaper.

"I was always the dirty one, I knew that. I never told anyone what was happening to me. In my whole life, I never had a cuddle.

"Before she died, my mother confessed what she had done to me. I was the only one she beat. I never knew why and I'm still searching for that answer."

Josephine's aunt, her only ally during those desperate years, told her never to show weakness. So she never cried, she never told. She bore the brunt of the monumental abuse on her tiny frame alone.

Josephine tried the best she could to fight her brother off for 11 years until he disappeared from her life.

She left home at 16 and met a man who was kind to her. They married and had two children. But, despite a happy exterior, Josephine was in turmoil.

"He was a good man and I had the children because I knew I could care for them. But I couldn't love them. When I held them, they were like little pieces of warm dough. I didn't feel anything for them or my husband."

When the children were seven and nine, Josephine sat them down and told them she did not know how to love them.

"I knew there was more but I couldn't find it. I said I had to leave and they understood. They chose to stay with their daddy."

After a time Josephine met another man. She liked him as a friend and when he asked her to marry him, she agreed.

But on their wedding night, he closed their front door, grabbed her by the throat and beat her unconscious. She woke up in the bath.

The violence was repeated many times over the next year and became more severe.

She was desperate to escape but was terrified. He cut her dog's throat in front of her and threatened to rape Josephine's daughter and slit her throat.

"He nearly killed me. He tied me up in a spare room for seven days. I had no water and I had to go to the toilet where I sat. When I thought I was going to faint or cry or give in, I got images of my kids in my head. They were the only thing that kept me going."

Her head bows and the tears spill.

Eventually Josephine's friends found her imprisoned in her home.

"I was in a terrible state. I couldn't walk. The doctors said I had regressed to 1966 - I was like a child again."

Once again she tried to rebuild her life and found a job working on a ship. But there were two more devastating blows waiting for her.

One night, while walking home from a party, she was attacked and raped by a stranger. The attacker is now serving a life sentence.

Six years later, while in a country lane, she was dragged into a car, blindfolded, held captive for three and a half hours, raped and abused. Her attacker was never caught.

The combined effects of those attacks and the earlier abuse were devastating. Unable to work, unable to function, Josephine barely existed.

"I crawled around my flat, scared to get into bed because it meant I had to leave the floor. If I was on the floor, nobody could get underneath me."

Her mind tortured, she attempted suicide.

Later she entered into a 12-year marriage of convenience. When that ended, she met another, seemingly sympathetic man who said he was going to haul her out of the "cupboard" she had been trapped in.

She liked him, got on famously with the sister he clearly adored and eventually moved in with him. Things appeared to be going smoothly until they attended his niece's wedding. Josephine's boyfriend went missing and after searching, found him - in the arms of his willing sister.

Her own miserable childhood flashed before her eyes. The man she was learning to trust was committing the very act that had ruined her life. That was the finale. I could not take any more."

Josephine packed her bags and ran. She borrowed money, got on a train and found herself in Brighton.

For three days she sat and watched the tides ebb and flow beneath the West Pier.

"I thought I could easily climb along the pier, dive in as the tide was going out and just keep swimming."

One day she walked into the water, fully dressed, plunged her head beneath the waves and just screamed.

"I had never been able to scream or make any noise and I just had to let it all out."

For days she cried and could barely leave the house. Eventually she found her way to the Women's Refuge Project.

"They have been my backbone, my security blanket. There are no sharp edges there, just cotton wool and comfort."

Refuge staff helped her find somewhere to live, get medical and counselling help and start to live.

"Brighton is so relaxed. Minds aren't mean here like they are in some places. After I had been here a while, I felt this rush of emotion, like I was part of life rather than being an observer.

"I'm beginning to feel, to enjoy things - like music and needlepoint and watercolours. I sometimes want to play. I am slowly building some self-esteem. I have never been able to look in a mirror because I didn't like what I saw. Now I have started wearing make-up and taking care of my nails."

Today, Josephine is very close to her children. They are grown up, studying, independent but very supportive of their mother.

"If they asked a question, I always told the truth. They never saw any of the violence because I didn't take them with me and I'm grateful for that.

"Violent people take away your life. They steal something from you that you can never get back.

"People say time is a great healer. It isn't but I am doing my best not to become bitter. I must stay on the path I have chosen.

"Somebody said to me recently 'Pat yourself on the back, you have broken the cycle of violence' and it is true, I have.

"I have no control over my past but I have full control of my future."

However, that does not stop Josephine seeing violence around her.

"I can see in a child's eyes if they are being abused. And the parents can see that I can see. I can't bear to see someone hitting a small child.

"I have gone up to people in the street and said 'Why are you hitting that child? If you want to hit someone, hit me - I can take a beating.'"

Despite her emerging confidence, Josephine is still brittle.

Turn to check the clock too suddenly and she will flinch. She would rather walk miles than sit next to a stranger on a bus. And making new, real friends takes time and caution.

But at last she is beginning to believe she has a future.

"I have always felt I was on borrowed time. At last it feels like there is hope. It is invisible but it is there."