M. from Turkey

It was two years after our marriage. We didn’t have the honeymoon till then. It was what I always wanted to experience. I dreamed about a romantic one with flowers and lavender colour. I am not a romantic person at all but its special for me. Afterall, it’s Paris, the city of love…

I made some plans, where we can go, what I want to see. My husband lived near Paris for 3 months before we met. He had already been there many times and complained about everything about the city like he always did.

Nevertheless, he went to Paris with me, to the places where I wanted to visit and did things that I wanted to do. We visited a gay café which must be famous. It’s like a cafe and bar at same time and close to gay party venues.  I saw some party brochures. I was really excited about it because we hadn’t been to a party for a while. 

After exploring the city, I was tired and had pain but I still wanted to go out. I took some painkillers with whisky, which I did not realise was a very bad idea. We went to a gay club. We danced. After 1 drink, I felt dizzy. He asked me to get some fresh air and I did. 

I was my honeymoon after all. I didn’t want it to end just like this but something was wrong. My blackout started after we went out of the club. Before I could remember anything, we were at a different place, dancing with some strangers. It was our first time to dance with others after 3 years relationship. We believed in and practiced monogamy. 

It was our first time to dance with others after 3 years relationship. We believed and practiced monogamy. If I would kiss a boy, he would gonna left me and send me to home. My existence dependent on him because of my residency. 

Then he kissed a boy and touched his body. I felt sick and told him I was having a headache and feeling dizzy and that I have to go to the toilet. He danced further on the dancefloor. After a while I found myself in the darkness. I didn’t remember how I got there. I must have fallen asleep in the toilet. I found him in the bar, and he told me that I was gone for 30mins. 

I asked him to go back to our hotel. The rest became blank. I don’t remember how we came to the hotel and I don’t remember how I landed in bed. I had no underwear and pants on me but my shirt was. I saw him on top of me pushing his dick inside me despite I told him I was having pain. I tried to push him off me but I was weak. Then I blacked out again. Only woke again in another position while he was still inside me. Then I woke in the shower, standing. He was washing me and still trying to fuck me. I said  again, “Stop. I have pain!”

Next morning, I was depressed because in a way I could remember some fragments of the last night but on the other hand I couldn’t remember everything. I asked him during dinner why he Raped me. He said, “you wanted it”. I said. No. I was unconscious, how can I want something like that. It’s a rape.  

As always, he didn’t admit what he had done. He also knew that I couldn’t leave him because I am turkish. My residency in Germany was depending on him. According to German law, he could divorce me and I would not be allowed to stay in Germany anymore. I was scared of being sent back to Turkey as I had always wanted to escape from my hometown and I loved living in Germany. 

So I had to live with him after what happened in Paris. It was like two strangers living in the same house, except he knew how to manipulate me. I was to do all the household work, shopping and cooking.  I had no job, no health care, no home, no friends at all. I was alone. I waited for 1 year until I got German nationality. Then I finally had enough of this life and left him. 

After 2 years of break I was able to get professional help. I still can not tell my story to my family. Just a couple of my friends and also Chris know the story. Now I am stronger than before. I am getting therapy to recover from it and I want to share my story. Abuse is wrong in any kind of way, even if it’s comes from your family or husband. It’s simply wrong. I really appreciate Chris to give me a chance to tell my story.