'My family didn't believe my partner was abusive when I left him. One night changed it all.'

As told to Ann Degrey

I met Rob* when I was on holiday in Bali, which sounds incredibly cliché, but I couldn't believe my luck.

He seemed like a lovely guy, the kind of man who could sweet-talk anyone! He made you feel like the most stunning woman in the world; he was also a lot of fun and incredibly charismatic.

I was on a girls' trip, sipping cocktails by the pool, when he walked up to me, smiling as though he already knew me. He was from Sydney, I'm from Melbourne, and by the end of the week, we were inseparable.

When I was home again, he wasted no time — flying down to see me within two weeks. Everything was great at first, the sex, the companionship… and he spoilt me rotten with expensive presents.

Then, he said he'd move to Melbourne to be with me. It was moving very quickly, but I wasn't complaining.

At first, it was intoxicating. I hadn't felt loved like this in a very long time. But the first red flags started to show about a month into our relationship. He texted constantly, wanted to know where I was, who I was with. That felt quite suffocating, and I told him so.

The first time he got angry was over something small — an old male friend from uni had liked my photo on Instagram. Rob wanted details about who my friend was, then accused me of leading the guy on. When I laughed, thinking he must be joking, he accused me of making him "look like a fool." I remember that moment so clearly now. He didn't sound… quite right. But I apologised anyway.

Watch: Signs You're Dating A Narcissist. Post continues after video.

The red flags kept coming. One night, after a party, he accused me of flirting with his brother. He said, "If you ever embarrass me like that again, I swear to God, you'll live to regret it."

Those words literally sent shivers up my spine. The next morning, he was back to normal, loving and affectionate. He told me he was scared of losing me so I figured he must just be insecure.

But the threats escalated. He never hit me, so it was easy for people to dismiss what was happening. Instead, he got inside my head and chipped away at my confidence. He made me really doubt myself. And then there was the time he accused me of hiding money from him and he grabbed me by the wrist so hard, it was sore for days. Another time, he was angry with me about something trivial. He put his hands around my throat, just for a second, just to show me he could.

But the worst time still makes me shudder. He was going crazy because I was home much later from a girls' night than I said I would be. He said it had "better never happen again." And then he said the words that made me realise I had to leave him.

"I could set fire to your car. With you inside it."

I left him not long after that. I packed a bag while he was at work and never went back. But when I told friends and family why I'd left him, they didn't believe me.

To everyone else, Rob was perfect; funny, kind and charming. When I told everyone what he was really like, I could see the doubt in their faces. Even my sister said, "Are you sure it wasn't a misunderstanding?"

It was humiliating. Infuriating. I was the one who'd lived in fear. But to everyone else, I was just being dramatic. Eventually, I stopped talking about it. Five years passed. I moved on and built a life without him in it. And then, one day, I saw his name on the news.

Rob had been arrested. He'd set fire to his neighbour's house over a dispute about a barking dog. The police said the arson attack was deliberate and calculated. No one was hurt, but the damage was enough to put him behind bars. The neighbour had said Rob was in a rage when they'd argued during the day. He threatened to kill him but the neighbour didn't take him seriously. That night, security cameras caught him walking up with a can of accelerant and setting the garage on fire.

I was horrified for the victims but, to be honest, I felt quite vindicated. I took a strange delight in sending multiple friends and family members an email with a link to the newspaper article about his crime. Suddenly, the same people who had doubted me were reaching out. "I can't believe it," my sister said. "I had no idea he was capable of something like this!"

I wanted to scream at my family and friends. I wanted to ask, "Why did it take a burning house and a prison sentence for you to believe me?"

But instead, I just said what had been on my mind for years.

"I told you he was a dangerous psychopath." And, this time, nobody argued with me.

Feature Image: Getty.