He Threatened to Kill Us Just to See My Phone

I thought I was safe. I had left our home and moved into a youth hostel for young workers, hoping to disappear. I stayed there for about a month and a half, keeping to myself. I barely left the building, only going out for the absolute minimum: groceries with the little money I had and necessary appointments. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to be found.

But he found me. He thought I had gone back to Spain, my country of birth, but I was right there in the hostel. One evening, I was eating dinner with a friend and another resident. There was a young man sitting next to me because there was no other place to sit. My ex-husband burst in, furious. He had been calling me constantly, but I had left my phone in my room. When he saw me sitting next to a man, he immediately assumed I had run off with someone else.

He threatened to kill my daughter and me just to see my phone. I realized then that he wasn't just angry; he was completely unhinged, and nothing would ever change him.

He grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. It was a horrible scene. My daughter, who was only a year and a half old, was with him. He had her in her stroller. He didn't care that we were in a public space. He dragged me out, and when I started screaming, confused and terrified, he began to hit me in front of everyone. The other residents, who had become my friends, rushed to help. They tried to get my daughter back from him. He was violent, refusing to let go. When he saw a dozen people closing in, he ran, snatching the stroller and sprinting away.

He ran across a busy road without looking. Cars were passing. I was terrified he would hit her, or that she would fall out of the stroller. He was so focused on escaping that he was completely unconscious of the danger. He ran into a building belonging to a friend of his. I called the police, but we didn't know exactly which building he had entered. He had dropped his phone, which I managed to pick up. His friends came out to negotiate, but they only spoke for him. They didn't listen. They believed only they were right. I tried to arrange a way to get my daughter back, but nothing worked.

The next day, I filed a complaint, but it yielded nothing immediately. Eventually, I managed to get my daughter back through another legal process. A few days later, he messaged me, offering to let me pick her up at our old apartment. I knew I had to go. I couldn't leave her with him. But I was terrified. I knew that if I entered that apartment, I might not be able to leave. I was right.

I went to the fourth floor. I didn't want to go inside. He insisted, saying he just wanted to talk. He asked why I had left, claiming he didn't understand. He demanded to see my phone, to read my messages, to search my life even though we were no longer together. When I refused, he forced me inside. He told me, "If you want to take your daughter, you come in, you take her, and then you leave."

I agreed. I went in to get her. But as soon as I was inside, he locked the door and kept the keys in his pocket. I started to panic. He walked into the kitchen and came back with a knife. He looked at me and said, "If you don't give me your phone, I will kill you and your daughter."

That was the moment of shock. He was crazy. He was truly unhinged, just to see my phone. I told him no. I told him that when we are not together, I don't have to give him anything. I told him I had been gentle, I had asked him to change, and he hadn't. Now, he had chosen this path.

He became more violent. At some point, my daughter started crying. I saw a chance to escape. I remembered the spare keys I had bought and hidden in a small cabinet. I told him, "The baby is crying, go see her." While he went to the child, I grabbed the keys. He heard me and came running. I opened the door and ran. He chased me. He jumped over the railing next to our apartment, leaping from the half-floor down to the stairs, trying to catch me. I ran faster than I ever had before, not even realizing how fast I was going. When he realized he couldn't catch me, he spat on me. It was disgusting, a symbol of pure hatred that made me feel even more sick.

I ran as far as I could. Then I realized my daughter was coming out too. I was terrified for her. I called the police. They arrived about 30 to 40 minutes later. I wanted to take my daughter, but without a court judgment, I couldn't. The police went up to the apartment to check on the child. He had put her to sleep, so they thought everything was fine. But I had filed a complaint for the death threats. It was a serious crime.

Two years later, he was judged. He received six months in prison. He served his time and was released. When he came out, he was exactly the same. He hadn't changed. People like that don't change. They are driven by hate. I had hoped prison would make him realize the gravity of his actions, but it didn't. He didn't learn to be an adult. It is his fault. His family doesn't understand. They keep calling me, asking me to drop the complaints, to change my mind. But they are the ones causing the harm. They need to accept responsibility.

I have learned that you cannot believe everything they say. You cannot believe the people who act violently and expect no consequences. If we don't punish them, everyone will kill everyone, and the police will do nothing. That is not how life works.

These memories are traumatic. They have shaped me differently. I have less confidence now than I did before. But I am trying to look forward. I am fighting for my daughter, for myself, and for my new partner. I am trying to live normally again, without that person in my life. I want to rebuild. I want to find the source of the problem and work on it. If you are in a situation like this, do not stay. Act. Leave. Do not keep toxic people in your life. They will never change, and you deserve to be safe.