How I Was St*bbed and Held Hostage By My Lover” – A True Confession from Leo Dasilva (BBNaija).

Most people know me from Big Brother Naija. They see the calm, put-together exterior. What they don’t see what I never thought I’d share is the trauma I’ve carried for years. I’ve smiled through interviews, posted polished photos, built businesses… all while hiding scars deeper than I ever imagined possible.

I was once in a relationship that started like a dream. She was everything I thought I needed: smart, passionate, and deeply affectionate. But over time, that affection turned possessive… then aggressive. Little red flags became loud sirens. But I ignored them. I told myself, “She’s just emotional. Maybe I’m overthinking.” I wasn’t.

One night I’ll never forget it I said something that upset her. It wasn’t even an argument. It was just me expressing a boundary. The next thing I knew, she reached for a kitchen knife. She stabbed me. Not threatened. Not waved it around. She actually stabbed me in the chest.

Blood everywhere. Panic. Confusion. Shock. I kept asking myself, Is this really happening?

I survived barely. I didn’t press charges. I told myself she was just “not okay.” I tried to move on. But instead of healing, I walked into another nightmare.

This second relationship seemed safer at first. She was sweet, attentive. I had just begun to rebuild trust. Then it happened again in a very different, terrifying way.

She refused to let me leave her apartment. She locked the doors, hid my phone, and drugged me without my consent. She told me if I ever left her, she’d destroy me publicly. I felt trapped, violated, and powerless. I couldn’t believe it another person I trusted had turned into a captor.

For nine years, I stayed away from dating. I told people I was “focused on myself.” In reality, I was scared. Scared of love. Scared of women. Scared that I would fall again, and not survive it this time.

I developed PTSD. I couldn’t sleep well. I had sudden panic attacks in rooms that felt too quiet. And yes, at 25 years old, I wrote my first will. Because after being stabbed and held hostage, I knew life wasn’t promised. I knew how quickly things could spiral.

I know what you might be thinking: “But you’re a man.”
Yes. I am a man. And I was a victim of domestic violence.

Society teaches men to “tough it out,” to “man up,” to stay silent when we’re hurting. But that silence almost killed me. If you’re a man reading this if you’re anyone reading this please hear me: abuse doesn’t care about your gender. Love should never make you bleed.

If you’re in an abusive situation, get out safely, quietly, and with support. Don’t wait for it to escalate.