Georgina Adams, 24, Stoke-on-Trent bravely speaks out about her horrific ordeal...
My knight in shining armour… That was my boyfriend Peter Cotterill down to a T.
We’d started dating in 2012, when I was 19.
I’d known him for years through friends, but we’d lost touch.
Then I’d bumped into him on a night out and he’d proved what a gent he was…
I suffer from asthma and started having an attack outside a bar. When I spotted Peter near the door, I grabbed his arm. He held me and kept me calm until an ambulance arrived.
It was an unexpected reunion, but it set off a spark between us.
Peter was such a kind, caring boyfriend – I was smitten.
When I was 20, I was diagnosed with a heart condition and Peter stuck by me through three heart operations.
Then, in early 2014, I was at home with Peter when everything went fuzzy. When I came to, he was hovering over me, looking panicked.
‘You passed out and kept twitching,’ he said, terrified. ‘I’ve called an ambulance.’
At Royal Stoke University Hospital, I was told I’d had a seizure.
Following tests, I was diagnosed with epilepsy.
For the first few months, I had at least one seizure every day.
Peter was a pillar of strength. When I had an attack, he knew exactly what to do.
I was always tired after, and needed to sleep. So he’d help me to bed then lie with me, in case I had another one. My hero.
Soon after, Peter gave up his job to be my full-time carer.
Around the same time, he asked me to marry him.
‘I’d love to be your wife,’ I said.
One day last May, I could feel another seizure coming on.
Lying on the bed, I blacked out for a few moments.
When I came round, Peter was hovering over me with his penis out.
Seconds later, he disappeared.
It just felt like a weird dream, so I didn’t mention anything.
But a week later, in June, I went to bed wearing a short, summery playsuit.
In bed, I had an absence seizure, where I passed out for about 20 minutes.
When I came round, I was completely naked. Odd.
My playsuit was on the floor, so I quickly put it on and went to the toilet.
I wiped myself and saw that the tissue had semen on it.
Panic set in.
Had Peter done something to me while I was unconscious?!
‘How could you think that?’ he shouted when I asked him.
He seemed so hurt, I wondered if I’d got it all wrong.
I convinced myself it was just a bad dream, tried to forget it.
But an hour later, he admitted what he’d done – though claimed he didn’t know why…
I felt dizzy with disgust.
Peter had raped me while I was unconscious. How could he do that?
I was so upset, the room was spinning. Peter couldn’t stop apologising.
I stupidly forgave him. I was repulsed by what he’d done, but I loved him, and I wanted to believe it was all just a mistake.
But it lingered at the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake it off.
Later that month, Peter and I were in bed, talking. We’d not had sex in ages as I’d been in pain with the womb condition endometriosis.
Peter had been understanding. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he forced my thighs apart and put his hand between my legs.
‘You’re hurting me!’ I screamed.
Eventually, he stopped and I burst into tears.
‘I thought it’d be a laugh,’ he smirked.
I couldn’t believe Peter was being so horrid. It made me question his earlier actions… But I worried nobody would believe me if I told them.
So when he wasn’t looking,
I set my phone to record.
‘Why did you rape me while I was unconscious?’ I asked.
At first, he refused to answer.
‘I deserve to know the truth,’ I persisted.
Suddenly, he admitted it all.
‘I don’t know why I did it,’ he sighed.
Even with his taped confession, I still didn’t feel brave enough to go to the police.
I’d so many memories of Peter being supportive and loving. And, foolishly, I believed him when he said he was sorry and wouldn’t do it again.
But in July, after yet another seizure, I woke to find Peter standing over me with his trousers down.
Anger tore through me and something inside me snapped.
‘Get away!’ I screamed, shaking with shock.
What was wrong with him?
I ran to my neighbour’s house. Then I phoned the police. I told them everything and gave them the recording.
Later, I heard Peter had been arrested and remanded.
Over the next few months, I was a nervous wreck. I struggled to come to terms with the fact my fiance was a sick pervert.
Last December, at Stoke-on-Trent Crown Court, Peter Cotterill, 29, pleaded guilty to rape and assault by penetration.
He was jailed for eight years and put on the sex offenders register indefinitely.
I’ll never trust a man again.
Peter was my best friend, my rock and my knight in shining armour…
I can’t believe I got him so wrong.