< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.

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January 1st. We returned from celebrating the New Year with our friends. My husband and I. We were living at the time with his mother, and we started cheerfully telling her about the night. I was very happy, so I wanted to tell as much as possible, and at some point, I interrupted him. He slapped me almost immediately, and it escalated into a beating. I felt sick all day (and not from a hangover) — I think I had a mild concussion.

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A summer day. He asked me to place an ad in a newspaper. I did everything he asked, but due to some circumstances, the ad wasn't published on time. He didn't care that it had nothing to do with me. That day, he almost strangled me. I felt myself losing consciousness; he probably noticed it too, because that was precisely the moment he released his hands from my throat. The bruises on my neck took a long time to fade — in summer, I had to wear high-necked tops.

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In truth, there are plenty of similar stories. I stayed with him in that relationship for 12 years, and then, thankfully, I left.

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Anonymous author; story told in 2019 as part of the "16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence" campaign