My name is Ryan. I'm almost 22, I'm transgender, and just over a year ago I escaped an abusive relationship. I am now facing court and potentially a prison sentence over debts my abuser has left in my name.

The following has been copied and pasted from my Facebook.

It's time for me to talk about my abuser. Their name is Alexandria Snow.

This will be a long post. If you can't read it all, please at least read the end.
CW for discussion of my past relationship with them. This will involve mentions of emotional and sexual abuse, severe manipulation, and the financial state in which they have left me. It also mentions alcohol abuse and suicide.
Frankly, it's a painful, triggering mess of a story, and writing this is going to be a lot of uncovering repressed memories and trauma.

I'd like you to read it anyway, if you know Alex, or knew me then.

Save any judgemental comments for another day.

I'm also unsure of how the person in question identifies at present, or what pronouns they use, so I'm going to refer to them as Alex and they/them, because that's the person I remember.

My relationship with Alex began in August 2017. Like many couples nowadays, we met on Tinder, shortly before Leeds Pride. On the day of Pride itself, they asked me to be their partner, and I accepted.

We were both in unsuitable living conditions at that time. They were sleeping on a friend's sofa and I was closeted for the most part, under the roof of my parents, who have never been the most queer-friendly folks (they're doing a little bit better now, thankfully). One thing led to another, and by mid-November, the two of us were living together in a shared house. We rented two rooms, but slept in one. Problems arise here, but I didn't see them then.

At this point in time, I strongly believed I was asexual, and fluctuated between being repulsed by and neutral towards sex. In the early stages of a relationship and overwhelmed by dysphoria, I often found it difficult or uncomfortable to sleep in close proximity to someone, and struggled with my privacy feeling invaded, lacking my own space. Alex was the opposite, and would often make a point of being as undressed as possible in our small room. They would ignore my requests for space or not to be touched, and were constantly harassing me for sexual acts and favours. Yes, we were in a relationship. No, a relationship does not count as consent. They entered into that relationship with knowledge of asexuality and my identity, and promptly chose to ignore it.

This lack of awareness and pushy, demanding attitude got harder and harder to deal with. Alex would pressure me to have sex with them and when I refused, to touch them in ways with which I felt uncomfortable. They would use situations when I was drunk to guilt and then physically force me into sexual acts. When I pushed them away in the morning, they would accuse me of being cold, moody, and an aromantic in denial.

Talking of drinking brings light to the other parts of the relationship that weren't so sweet. Alex would try to prevent me from seeing my friends or going out, like they wanted to cut off my social ties with other people. If I wanted to see friends or go on a night out, they would either guilt trip me and complain until I invited them (and would then spend the night sulking and getting angry when I spoke to other people), or would reject my offer of an invite outright, which often led to screaming fights. I would decide I was going out whether they came with me or not, and they would come back with accusations that I didn't care about them. While I fully believe that Alex had a problem with alcohol and substance abuse, they would try to blame that problem on me. I have vivid memories of them waving a bottle of rum in my face, swearing that I would drive them to drink the full thing and then attempt suicide.

This kind of emotional abuse was constant, and it drove me down, and down, and down. Come summer, I had realised the relationship was unhealthy, and was looking for a way out. However, I couldn't afford to live alone, and nor could Alex. So we began looking for flats together, and along the way, joined up with a friend of ours whom I will refer to from this point on as Person B. Alex, myself, and Person B began renting a flat in July 2018.

Approximately two weeks after moving in, I took a break and went to a festival. Spending a week away from Alex, and with her more or less unable to contact me, I came to the realisation that I needed to get out of the situation I was in. I couldn't go back to that, and I think, upon my return to a dirty flat and uncaring Alex, this was the point when the relationship finally began to crumble.

We were fighting constantly. It seemed like we couldn't agree on anything any more. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. The abuse had drained me to the point where I'd lost all sense of myself. I'd put on a considerable amount of weight, and was unhealthy in more ways than one. I found myself sleeping more, crying more, struggling to keep things together.
One morning, Alex admitted to me that they had had sex with our flatmate, Person B, in the next room while I slept. Funnily enough, this wasn't even the tipping point.

And things peaked, as they always seem to do, in the middle of the night. We fought, again.
I told them I was done, and I would leave.
They told me "fine then, go".

I rang my mum, and asked her, at almost two in the morning, if I could go home.
And I went home.
That's how I escaped my abuser. Because I found my strength and I was one of the lucky ones.

Unfortunately, our history doesn't stop there.

I demanded my belongings back. My parents escorted me to collect the bags Alex had packed me. I found out later they had kept things that, while small, were sentimental to me.
In order to maintain the friendship with Person B, I volunteered to continue paying my portion of the rent, so I didn't cause problems for the person in this situation that I still cared about. We had paid the rent for August, and I sent Alex my share of the rent for September.

Then, two things happened.

The first is that I discovered that Person B had left the flat only a few weeks after I did, and Alex's brother had moved in to their room.
The second is that I received an email from our letting agency stating that September's rent was outstanding.
After a string of back and forth emails, it came to light that Alex had never paid the rent I sent my portion of, and was refusing to cooperate with the agency and give them the details of the new tenant. They had planned to lie to me and continue using me for money, and were not willing to admit to this. They had also stolen the £200 I sent towards September's rent.

More emails followed, and ended at a point where I believed the tenancy was going to be ended prematurely and new tenants would be found for the flat.

Then, a few months ago, I received a letter, addressed to myself, Alex, and Person B, at the address belonging to my parents.
This letter stated that we owed council tax on the flat.

Believing this to be a mistake, I contacted Leeds City Council, who told me they had no record of the tenancy being ended.
I have tried to contact our letting agency, iForHomes, to find out what happened. They do not answer my calls or emails.
I have proof that I, personally, have been paying council tax on my current living situation since November 2018, via the agency LetsLiveLeeds.

The council have ignored my evidence and are holding me personally responsible for the money despite my attempts to prove that I was not in the property and cannot be held liable for the costs.

I currently have £1.48 in my bank account.
The council tax fees amount to £1851.14 including enforcement costs. I received a final warning today.

If the money isn't paid, guess who goes to court and potentially prison.
Me.

Not Alex, because Alex has seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. We haven't spoken in more than a year. I need help to pay this money back. If it'll get these memories out of my life for good, I'll find a way to contribute my share.

Right now, over a year after I left them, my abuser still has me in a chokehold. It's starting to feel like I'll never escape.

I don't know what to do other than warn the people I know that Alexandria Snow is a liar, a thief, and was my abuser for a year.

If you've read this far, thank you.
If anyone knows where I can go from here, please let me know before this kills me.