I’m a survivo

Hearing my phone ring for the umpteenth time, I sighed.

Not again! And as I answered, I heard heavy, muffled breathing before the caller hung up in a matter of seconds.

Over the last few months, I’d received dozens of these calls.

And I had a suspicion who it might be.

I realised I was covered in blood. My blood

It was June 1994, and my ex-boyfriend Leonard Tilton had showed up at my house only a few weeks before.

‘I was just in the area,’ he’d said to me.

‘You live a 45-minute walk