I thought my buff boyfriend Scott was the perfect gent, but he had a dangerous obsession…
By Nicola Currie, 26, from Lanarkshire, Scotland
I stifled a giggle as my boyfriend Scott flexed his biceps while he gazed at the mirror. He was certainly a poser but, as I surveyed his bulging muscles, I knew he had the goods to back it up. Plus, he went to the gym six times a week so he deserved to show off his hard work!
“Looking buff, babe,” I said and he flashed me a grin.
In truth, it was hard to believe the ripped gym addict was the same man who loved to cuddle up to me on the sofa and shower me with presents.
The Scott I knew was sweet and kind. We’d met in a club on New Year’s Eve a few months earlier and he’d asked for my number straight away.
At first, I thought he was a bit cocky but I soon melted when I saw his softer side. On our first date, he took me out for a posh meal and soon started buying me jewellery and flowers. He was also great with my daughter, Erin*, then five, from a previous relationship.
We saw each other as much as we could but I knew I had to share Scott with the other love of his life. But it wasn’t another woman, it was his dumbbells!
He told me: “I can’t miss a workout or it will mess up my schedule.”
I was always disappointed when he chose to go to the gym over seeing me, but I couldn’t complain when I saw other girls drooling over his muscles.
And there was no better feeling than snuggling up to that buff body!
But one morning, as we cuddled in bed, I noticed Scott’s back was unusually spotty and a disturbing thought flashed through my mind.
I asked myself: Could Scott be using steroids to make his muscles look even bigger?
I’d heard lots of bodybuilders used them and that acne was a telltale sign. But Scott worked so hard at the gym, I quickly dismissed my fears.
But a few hours later, I went to fix myself a drink and I saw a suspicious looking solution in Scott’s fridge. On his kitchen worktop, there was a used syringe.
When he came downstairs, I asked him: “Have you been taking steroids?”
He replied: “Of course not.”
I held up the solution from the fridge and said: “Well, what’s this then?”
Scott shifted uncomfortably and wouldn’t meet my eye. “It’s a hormone supplement,” he mumbled. “It’s perfectly legal.”
“Well, I really hope you’d never use steroids,” I told him. “They can make people really angry and violent.”
I put things to the back of my mind but over the next few days, Scott’s moods seemed to change. We were getting ready to go out one night when he snapped and threw my hair straightners across the room.
He said: “Why are you taking so long to do your makeup?”
I was stunned, but I assumed I’d provoked him. I couldn’t understand why my caring partner suddenly had such a short fuse.
I didn’t want us to drift apart, so the next day I suggested I could come along to the gym with him.
He said: “I didn’t want to say anything but you do really need to do some exercise.”
My mouth fell open in shock. Scott was always telling me how beautiful I was. I blinked away the tears in my eyes.
“I’m probably just comparing you with girls at the gym,” Scott went on. “Your body doesn’t look as good as theirs because you’ve had a baby.”
I convinced myself that the problems we were having were all my fault but Scott’s mood swings were soon so frequent, I felt like I was walking on eggshells.
He was like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute, he’d be cosying up to me on the sofa, telling me how lucky he was to have me and the next he’d be in a strop over something silly.
I tried to put my doubts to the back of my mind but a few weeks later, I found more solution in his fridge.
I said: “Tell me the truth. Have you been using steroids?”
“You’ve got no right snooping in my fridge,” he snapped back.
But, an hour later, he was his usual, chatty self again.
I thought: Maybe the steroids are none of my business.
The next month, we were invited to Scott’s cousin’s wedding. I put on a beautiful cream dress and Scott told me I looked gorgeous.
“You make such a lovely couple,” one of his aunts said.
Another added: “It will be your turn next!”
As we danced the night away, I was on a high. I hadn’t mentioned the steroids again and I felt like we were back on track.
Soon, the lights came up and I couldn’t wait to go home and snuggle up to my man. We flagged down a taxi and Scott suggested we go to a party.
I said: “Let’s just go home. It’ll be nice to have some time alone together.”
Suddenly, Scott’s expression changed.
“Why are you being like this?” he demanded.
“Being like what?” I replied, stunned, but he didn’t explain. For the rest of the journey, he faced the window in a sulk. If I dared speak, he told me to shut up.
But nothing could have prepared me for what happened when we got home. Without saying a word, Scott turned to me and began raining punches on me.
“Scott!” I gasped. “Stop!”
But my pleas fell on deaf ears. Soon, he’d pinned me to the floor and begun biting me as I lay whimpering in agony.
After what seemed like forever, I somehow managed to break free. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in but within seconds Scott had broken the door down. At 5ft 2ins, I was no match for a bodybuilder.
“Scott, please!” I sobbed, but there was a crazed look in his eyes. Combined with alcohol, his steroids had turned him into a monster.
I thought: I’m going to die. How will Erin cope without me?
Pain tore through me as Scott seized my hair and slammed my head off the side of the bath. Blood was pouring down my face, but I summoned all the strength I had and ran downstairs, where I phoned a taxi on my mobile.
The driver took one look at my face and said: “Who did this to you? I’m phoning the police.”
“No, please don’t!” I cried, terrified of how Scott would react. In my dazed state, I asked him to take me back to Scott’s where I phoned my friend and asked her to collect me.
Scott showed no emotion when I appeared back at his front door.
“Why are you back?” he said. “Look at the state of you. I’m off to bed but make sure you leave by the back door so none of the neighbours see your face.”
My friend insisted on taking me straight to hospital where doctors told me Scott had beaten me so badly he’d left a blood clot in my left eye.
I also had a fractured eye socket, burst blood vessels in my eyes and face, a black eye and lots of painful bruising and swelling on my face and arms.
As a nurse tended my wounds, I realised I couldn’t brush this under the carpet. My relationship with Scott was over, but I had to stop him from doing this to another girl.
I thought: I’m calling the police.
Scott was arrested but I was completely traumatised. Erin burst into tears when she saw my face, so I told her I’d fallen down the stairs.
I was so shaken I could barely leave the house for three weeks. A taxi driver even popped into the supermarket to pick up some groceries for me when he saw how anxious I was.
Meanwhile, Scott was posing on Facebook with different girls and boasting about his lads’ nights out. It was sickening.
In time, Scott Ross, 23, of Shotts, Lanarkshire, appeared at Hamilton Sheriff Court, where he initially denied assault. However, he changed his plea to guilty at the last minute.
He was sentenced to 150 hours of unpaid work, avoiding jail. When a police officer phoned to tell me, I was so devastated I hung up.
I thought: The system is protecting him. It should be protecting me.
Now, I’m trying my best to look to the future. I have a new partner and, thankfully, he’s nothing like Scott.
I haven’t spoken to Scott since the night of the attack, but I’ve heard he has a new girlfriend. If the rumours are true, I’m scared for her.
If he wasn’t jailed for what he did to me, what will he do next?
I don’t know if steroids make all users violent, but mixed with alcohol, they can be deadly. Scott was the one person I expected to protect me – but steroids turned him into a monster.
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