My ex-husband was extremely violent and controlling. He was trying to make me pregnant so I would be dependent on him and never leave him. He found out I'd been taking birth control pills. He poured boiling water over me as I slept and stabbed me multiple times. Thankfully a neighbor heard my screams and called the police.
I was attacked by my mother-in-law. She's literally the devil. She thought I was I trying to keep "her baby" (she was calling my oldest kid HER baby). She also thought I "trapped" my husband by getting pregnant (we were together for nearly 8 years at that time and married for 4 when I got pregnant). Anyways, she tried to set me up.
One day I walked into my home with my oldest son while I was pregnant. I quickly run into the bathroom to grab a towel or something. In there I found my mother-in-law covered in her own blood holding a knife. She starts to yell and then attacks me. She keeps saying how dare I try to kill her and take her away from her baby. Also, she said I was trying to deprive my son of her love. I was trying to protect myself and get out of the bathroom while trying to calm her down. At this point, she stabbed me in the chest when trying to stab my stomach. "My baby doesn't deserve you. How could he marry someone who tried to kill his mama."
At this point, I realize she was trying to make it look like I attacked her and she was defending herself. I managed to run out and I yell at my son to go to X's house (next door and a family friend) and get help which he does. I barricade myself in our office room (it had these heavy oak doors) and try to control my bleeding, The mother-in-law is outside banging on the door complaining how I'm jealous of her and the love and relationship she shares with her son and my son and how I'm trying to isolate them from her.
Anyways, the cops came, she was arrested and I ended up in the hospital and lost the baby.
My mother died by the hands of my abusive father. I was about four and saw what happened. He saw me and tried to get me next. But the neighbor heard the screaming and called the police.
The police came before he could even touch me. They took him down and arrested him.
He hung himself in prison 20 years later after the guilt ate him alive.
My father was in the Navy in Vietnam when I was born. He decided he did not want a child after all and declined to provide support until his CO was notified and forced him to send money home. While he was home on leave he tried to suffocate me with a plastic bag, My grandfather confronted him with a .30-06 and backed him out of the house.
My father drank 24/7. He would often get angry and throw stuff around or threaten complete strangers but he never harmed me or my brother, so we got used to it and just ignored it most of the time.
However, one day he got into a fistfight with some random guy at the gas station (where he liked to drink for 20 hours straight) and when he got home he was in a really bad mood. I took my brother and we left the apartment to go play football with the other kids in the park.
At some point while we were playing, I lost the key to the basement that I had with me because our ball was locked in there, and when we got back home I told my father that I lost the key. He got so angry you wouldn't believe it, he started screaming and threw bottles and other stuff at us. He grabbed my brother (who was six years old) and punched him as hard as he could, and while I dragged him to the bed so he could lie down my father called my mother and told her that he's going to end it and she can come pick up the corpses in an hour.
I heard this and locked the door to our room, which made him even angrier. He was trying to break down the door with his bare hands. That didn't work so he tried breaking the lock with a knife. Suddenly I hear some really loud noises followed by a bunch of voices yelling, the police broke the door to the apartment and stormed in. My father was arrested. My mother was so scared she looked like she was about to die and I had to talk to a police officer for an hour about what happened. My father was not allowed to contact us again after this but sometimes he would hang out in the street where our new apartment was or he would come to our school and pretend that he was there to pick us up. He died two years later when he started a fight with some homeless guys and they beat him up and threw him down some stairs. He broke his skull and died on the way to the hospital. I have never ever shed a single tear.
I was engaged to an abusive man. I got pregnant. He did the usual threatening to kill me if I left him. One day he came home (he was a Navy corpsman) and beat me really badly, kicking my belly with his boots until I had a miscarriage. I think his goal was to kill me as well. He kept me in the apartment and would not let me go to a doctor or hospital. Losing that baby is what gave me the courage to escape when I could.
My mom's ex tried to strangle her in front of my sister and me. When went to call the cops, he let her go to stop us or he'd kill us also. He hit my sister on a few other occasions, along with my mom. Also, he threw in a few death threats in here and there. I think I was quieter than my sister so he didn't come after me. My dad's friend's brother beat him up a few years later just for calling my mom names. Thanks for that guy.
My former aunt-in-law didn't like that my uncle let us stay in their old house (that she hadn't been in in years) while we were homeless. Sp she broke in with some random dude, held a weapon to all of us and told us to get out. I cried my 5-year-old eyes out for a while there. We got a restraining order for that one.
I'm not sure if she actually intended to kill me, but when I was 11 and my sister was 12 we were home alone after school and got into a fight. Not uncommon, she has bullied me my whole life. This time she goes into the kitchen and grabs a giant chopping knife and starts to chase me. I manage to run out of the back door, circle around to the front yard, and come in the front door. I then run down the hallway and lock myself in the bathroom.
It's on the first floor, so she goes outside around the back of the house and starts banging on the bathroom window, which promptly shatters. This calms her down a little bit, and she tries to get me to come out and she says she's sorry, but I stayed locked in there for 3 hours waiting for my dad to come home. We told him the broken window was an accident from trying to shut the window too hard.
She also almost drowned me in a pool once and played it off like she was just dunking me as a game.... but I knew better.
My dad was dating a really nice lady with a demon child that didn't want her mom dating anybody. The whole family came into town to meet the new girlfriend and I'm upstairs playing with her daughter. She then puts a belt around my neck and is choking me with it so I try and crawl away and get down the stairs but can't scream. I started banging on the wall until my family came upstairs and found me blue in the face about to be strangled to death. My dad broke up with her that night which I felt bad over but her daughter was the spawn of Satan.
My mother put some sort of incense oil into my e-cigarette fluid. She had found out the day before that her parents were giving their property to me instead of her. I don't know what the oil was, but whenever she would burn it, my eyes would swell and lungs would be raw for hours, and she knew it.
I had just refilled my tank that morning. I took a huge draw off the vape and immediately knew I was screwed because it tasted intensely of the oil. My lungs suddenly felt like they were trying to turn inside out while I started coughing uncontrollably and hacking up some sort of foam. It was so bad that every breath I took felt like fire. I was in a chain of violent coughing and dry heaving that kept making my abdomen spasm so hard it was like I was doing violent situps over the bathroom sink. By the time it eased up I was collapsed onto the sink and barely conscious. I was drenched in sweat and my body hurt like I had pulled nearly every muscle in it. I laid down on the floor which was cold and that somehow felt better. I was there for what seemed to be a really long time, and I was so drained I couldn't do anything else. I didn't report it because who is going to believe someone poisoned vape fluid? Even I had trouble comprehending the situation. I kept the bottle for a long time and occasionally would get it out to look at the obviously separated fluid where the oil didn't mix to remind myself that really happened.
A few weeks later I also got a visit from APS after she told them that I had strongarmed my grandparents into handing over the property to me and was stealing from them. Good times.
When I was a kid, my older brother and I were playing when he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and stabbed me in the abdomen. He had this crazed look in his eyes and told me he didn't want a younger brother anymore. He said it was because (in his perception) our parents "loved me more." He was 13 at the time, and I was 10. I fought back and got him into a choke hold and held him there until he dropped his knife and begged me to let him go. Afterwards, he brought out super glue and some rubbing alcohol. He poured it on where he stabbed me, and super glued it shut. Then apologized. He started going to therapy for extreme anger tendencies after that.
When I was thirteen, my stepdad (who hated me) was prepping the blender for a smoothie. I asked if he would make enough so that I could have one as well. He was surprisingly happy to do so. When it was ready, he had this creepy smile on his face. I noticed he only made enough for me but didn't think too terribly much of it. As I poured from the blender to a cup, I saw my stepsister in the background motioning not to drink it.
When my stepdad left the room, she said she saw him reach under the sink (into the chemical cabinet) and pour something in before he blended it. I opened the chemical cabinet, the nearest thing was a gallon of bleach. My stepsister confirmed this is what he poured into my drink.
My mom wanted a divorce. My father flipped and shot me and my brother in our sleep, and then committed suicide. My brother died later at the hospital.
My brother abused me when I was a child. I guess my existence reminded him of what he had done because he took all of his anger out on me. He is a very violent person, and I am 3 years younger than him, about half a foot shorter, and much smaller. So naturally, when he started physically abusing me for most of my life, it got really bad, as I was completely incapable of defending myself.
He had tried to kill me by throwing me against concrete and stomping on my head, but he had never used a weapon (aside from just grabbing something nearby to hit me with). My mom did nothing to stop him as she was afraid of losing him, and this made his behavior get steadily worse.
His final attempt before I was able to get away from him, was while we were at the dinner table eating like a normal family (something we have rarely done in my life). I forgot why, but he was flicking food at me with his fork and getting it all over my clothes (he might sound like a child but he was in college at this point). I told him to stop and picked some food up in my fork to keep eating, but I guess he thought I was trying to retaliate because he swung his hand at me to try to hit me.
I instinctively held my hands up and he hit my fork I was still holding so hard, that it stabbed into his hand pretty deep. So he grabbed his steak knife and started screaming in graphic detail about how he was going to kill me and skin me and rip me apart and so on while he chased me down with a knife while I screamed and cried and ran away.
I managed to make it to my room but he kicked the door in as I made it to the built-in bathroom. I locked the door and braced myself with my back against the drawers and my feet against the door so that it couldn't open and he started kicking on the door and broke the place where the knob held the door shut, bending the door out each time he would push or hit it, and trying to shove the knife through all while screaming about what he was going to do to me and that nothing could stop him and I would never be safe.
Thankfully, he tired himself out and I curled up on the floor of the bathroom and cried myself to sleep while I heard him screaming to my mom about me and someone really just needs to put me out of my misery and so on for hours. My mom still refuses to talk about it, and my boyfriend who came to my house and saw the damage afterwards has said if he ever sees my brother make a move towards me again he will kill him. My boyfriend is very protective of me now.
When I was seven, I was in a large mall with my stepmother. She resented my existence and really resented my living with her and my father instead of her own kids. She took this out on me quite often, with this day being the worst.
We get to the top of the escalator, and I don't remember if I paused, said something, or what exactly set her off, but she gave me a hard shove. I fell all the way down the escalator to the very bottom. I wasn't seriously injured, but I remember my knees being torn open in the pattern of the escalator edge. My stepmother gets to the bottom and berates me for being clumsy. A well-meaning woman rushed up to see if I was ok, but I was crying too hard to answer. My stepmother slapped me for being rude and not answering the lady.
I don't know if she consciously wanted me dead, but that fall was intentional on her part.
I still have a phobia of escalators.
My mom, who was an abusive, dysfunctional person (and still is), marched into my room one morning when I was about 13 or 14, threw a fan at me and then strangled me while sitting on my chest. Bearing in mind she was not a small woman.
My stepdad burst in and dragged her off me. I wonder sometimes what would have happened if he didn't.
She complained the next week that the events of the weekend made her "tired." Sorry, my neck got in the way of your hands, mom.
My husband's friends describe meeting my mother on his 28th birthday as "the night Mustangbex's mom tried to run her over with the car."
She has violent personality disorder and was upset when I rejected her vicious verbal interrogation over whether our guests (all successful college grad professionals in their late 20s) and I (employed, college grad, professional, 30's) were smart enough to bring enough money to pay for our dinner at a mid-high range steakhouse. After I pointedly told her that we had it handled and turned away from her, she scrunched up her face, turned red, gestured like she might swing at me, and ultimately left.
We finished up and made our ways to our cars - my husband was riding with friends, I was headed home to grab his special cake to meet them - so I was walking alone towards my car in the lot further away. She drove a very large SUV which she accelerated toward me at high speed through the parking lot swerving around me at the last second, screeching her tires, and skidding to a halt within a couple of feet of me.
She then shouted insults and profanities at me before squealing her tires and speeding away. I hadn't realized anyone else saw her do it until later when a couple people pulled me aside to ask me about it and somebody else mentioned it weeks later.
After multiple instances in my childhood of her threatening to crash the car and kill us all when I was a kid, this felt the closest she's actually come to making good.
Once I hit my dad with a shovel before he could shoot me and then set it up so it looked like he just had a good time and had a weird dream. Mostly I survived when my dad got seriously angry because he did a lot of illegal substances and drank way too much on a regular basis.
My step-mom was inebriated and didn't like me, mostly because I saw her as a fraud. She had put my father in debt and got him heavily into the drink. So naturally, one day she came into my weight room while I was on the bench and started shoving down on the bar, holding it on my throat. Honestly, she would've succeeded if she wasn't intoxicated. She was so smashed though that I was able to knock her off her balance and shove the weights off. I was so freaked out by it that I just ran out of the house and left. She ended up holding my dog down on the railroad tracks and then taking off for good.
My sister chased me through the house with a knife once. I managed to get into my room, slam the door, and then she started stabbing the door. I thought it was over when that stopped, but then the knife appeared under the door moving wildly from side to side.