Sheree Schonian, 42, Perth, WA, shares her story about her abusive ex who held her mum and kids for ransom.
Holding a huge bunch of flowers, my boyfriend, Nick, grinned.
“For you,” he said.
“They’re beautiful,” I giggled.
“Someone as kind as you deserves the world,” he added, and I swooned.
Navin – Nick, as I called him – came from a Thai family like mine.
We met at a Thai community event when I was 16 and he was 17.
Soon after we started dating, one of my aunties pulled me aside.
“Be careful of that one,” she warned quietly.
“He has anger issues.”
Head over heels in love, I ignored her.
Mum had split from my dad when I was little and later endured an abusive relationship with her next partner.
I’d been cooking and caring for my younger siblings since I was 10.
Vulnerable and lonely, Nick swept me off my feet.
We’d been dating a few weeks when he found a photo from my Year 12 ball, and his face darkened.
“You shouldn’t have a picture of another guy in your bedroom,” he raged.
He tore the photo in half and stormed out.
A month later, my phone buzzed with a message from a male friend.
Nick’s face twisted with fury.
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He grabbed my phone and hurled it onto the floor, smashing it.
“I’m your boyfriend. You shouldn’t be talking to other guys,” he screamed.
“He’s just a friend. I’m sorry,” I stammered.
“You will be sorry,” he roared, then slapped me hard across the face.
Shocked and shaking, I ran outside.
Later, he came to find me.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“You drove me to it.
After that I was constantly walking on eggshells.
Nick was unpredictable – love-bombing me one day and gaslighting me the next.
Still, I felt I had no-one else.
When I finished school, I moved in with him.
In 2005 we welcomed our daughter, Lynda*.
Not long afterwards Nick’s mum passed away, and it completely derailed him.
He began using drugs.
One day in 2006 my younger sisters Yasmin, then 17, and Jaslyn, 16, pulled me aside.
“Is Nick hurting you?” Jaslyn asked.
“How dare you?” I snapped defensively.
They never asked again.
Meanwhile, I worked hard to keep our family afloat.
But as soon as my salary landed in my account, Nick would withdraw the money and spend it on drugs or online gambling.
Sometimes he even locked me inside the house while he went to the bank so I couldn’t stop him.
I tried hiding money in secret accounts, but one day he discovered what I’d done.
I got a terrible beating that day.
I called police a couple of times, but was too scared to press charges.
In 2008 we had our son, Jim*, but nothing changed.
Each time Nick hurt me, he promised it would never happen again.
I desperately hoped he meant it, but he never did.
He was good with the kids and never hurt them.
But they heard and saw everything he did to me.
Once, during a beating in 2013, I managed to escape the house.
My son was locked inside with Nick, so I called police.
When officers arrived they saw my battered state and pressed charges.
In April 2014, at Armadale Magistrates Court, Nick received a three-month prison sentence for unlawfully assaulting me and causing bodily harm with circumstances of aggravation.
When he was released, he came straight back home.
Nothing changed.
In September 2015 I reached breaking point.
Nick had been on a five-day bender and as he shouted at me, something inside me snapped.
I called my mum to come get us.
“You need to pay me $10,000 before you leave me,” Nick demanded.
He locked Mum and the kids inside while I went to withdraw money.
Only then did he let us go.
I moved in with my sister Yasmin and cried for months.
After 16 years of abuse, I was finally free.
Thankfully, Nick stayed out of our lives after that.
Then in 2019 a friend asked if I would speak about my experience as a domestic violence survivor at a White Ribbon event in Joondalup, WA.
Nervously, I agreed.
Standing in front of about 35 people, my hands trembled as I began speaking.
But after only two minutes I burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
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Then I looked up at the faces of the women watching me.
“I’m a survivor of 16 years of physical, emotional and financial abuse,” I said.
As I continued, something inside me shifted.
Instead of shame, I felt strength.
Afterwards, a woman approached me.
“That was so brave,” she said quietly.
“I need to make some changes in my life.”
In that moment I realised my story could help others.
I left my job as a teacher and became an advocate against domestic violence, working as a keynote speaker and author.
Five years ago I met my current boyfriend, who encouraged me to train as a counsellor.
Then last year Nick suffered a heart attack at 42 and was placed on life support.
Lynda was listed as his next of kin, so we had to go to the hospital.
Seeing the comatose body of my abuser lying in that hospital bed brought the trauma rushing back.
But when he passed away, I finally felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Freedom.
Violence comes in many different forms.
Coercive control and financial abuse can leave scars just as deep as broken bones or bruises.
But there is always help. And there is always hope.
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