In the quiet, early morning hours of a residential street in Bristol, United Kingdom, the silence was shattered by a sound that no one expects to hear in a peaceful neighborhood. It was September 23, 2015, just before dawn, when the piercing screams of a man in agony woke the residents from their sleep. Dr. Nic White, a local woman, was jolted awake by the frantic ringing of her doorbell, accompanied by guttural cries for help. groggy and confused, she pulled back her curtains to peer into the dark street, expecting perhaps a rowdy drunk or a prank. What she saw was a figure standing in the dim light, dressed only in underwear, his body dark and glistening as if he had been rolling in mud. But as the screams continued, raw and desperate, the reality of the situation began to sink in. This was no prank.

Down the street, another neighbor, Thomas Sweet, grabbed a golf club and rushed outside. He had heard the commotion and initially thought it was the screeching of foxes fighting, a common sound in the area. But the human quality of the cries drew him out, ready to defend his neighbors if necessary. As he and others approached the man, the horrifying truth became visible under the streetlights. The substance covering the man wasn’t mud. It was his own skin, melting and sloughing off his body in clumps. The man was Mark Van Dongen, a 28-year-old Dutch engineer who had come to the UK with dreams of a bright future. Instead, he had become the victim of one of the most calculated and sadistic assaults imaginable.

Mark was a tall, handsome young man with a life full of potential. He had moved to Bristol to study and work, eventually finding a job as a civil engineer. In 2010, he met Berlinah Wallace, a fashion student who was nearly 20 years his senior. At first, the relationship seemed normal, but over time, a dark dynamic began to emerge. Berlinah was possessive and volatile. Friends and family would later recount seeing scratches on Mark’s body, physical manifestations of the abuse he was enduring behind closed doors. On one terrifying occasion, she had even poured boiling water on him while he slept. For a long time, Mark stayed, trapped in the cycle of abuse that so often silences male victims. But by August of 2015, he had found the strength to leave. He began a new relationship, hoping to turn the page and start fresh.

However, leaving a controlling partner is often the most dangerous time in a relationship. Berlinah did not accept the breakup. For weeks, she harassed Mark and his new girlfriend, making silent, intimidating phone calls. She threatened to harm herself if he didn’t return, a classic manipulation tactic designed to exploit his kindness. But while she was playing the victim to his face, she was plotting something far more sinister in private. On September 2, just weeks before the incident, she sat at her computer and began a chilling search history. She looked up “acid attacks.” She read about 82 different cases, studying the damage caused to victims, researching how the chemicals worked, and understanding the life-long devastation such an assault causes. She wasn’t just venting anger; she was researching a weapon. She logged onto Amazon and purchased a bottle of 98% concentrated sulfuric acid—industrial strength, capable of dissolving fabric, skin, and bone.

Despite his fear—he had even called the police to report her harassment and told his father he was scared she might hurt him—Mark was a man of compassion. On the evening of September 22, he agreed to go to Berlinah’s flat. He wanted to finalize the breakup amicably, to talk things through one last time, and perhaps he felt sorry for her. It was a decision that would cost him his life. He decided to stay the night, sleeping in the bed he had once shared with her, believing that the storm had passed.

At 3:00 AM, while the city slept, Berlinah rose from the bed. She went to the kitchen, poured the sulfuric acid into a glass, and returned to the bedroom. She stood over Mark, who was sleeping in his boxer shorts, defenseless and vulnerable. She woke him up. As he opened his eyes, confused in the dark, she laughed at him. Her final words to him before the world dissolved into pain were, “If I can’t have you, nobody can.”

She threw the glass of acid directly into his face.

The pain was instantaneous and indescribable. Sulfuric acid doesn’t just burn; it dehydrates the skin, reacting violently with the water in human tissue to generate intense heat. It eats through flesh, fat, and muscle, not stopping until it is neutralized. Mark leaped from the bed, screaming, blinded and burning. He managed to stumble out of the apartment and into the street, where his neighbors found him. “I’m dying! I’m dying!” he screamed. The neighbors, acting on instinct, rushed him into a nearby flat and put him under a shower, trying to wash away the chemical that was consuming him. But the damage was already catastrophic.

When paramedics arrived, they were met with a scene from a horror movie. Mark was foaming at the mouth, his body covered in severe chemical burns that had turned his skin black and gray. In the ambulance, he kept repeating that he couldn’t see. When the medic looked into his eyes, he saw that one of his irises had completely dissolved. Yet, even in this state of supreme agony, Mark was lucid enough to identify his attacker. He told them exactly who had done this. He also begged the police to check on his new girlfriend, terrified that Berlinah might have targeted her as well. Thankfully, she was safe, but Mark’s nightmare was just beginning.

Police arrived at Berlinah’s flat shortly after. They found her sitting calmly on the sofa, the empty glass nearby. She was arrested, but her demeanor showed little of the panic or remorse one might expect. Meanwhile, Mark was rushed to the hospital, where the full extent of his injuries became apparent. He had third-degree burns over a massive percentage of his body. The acid had burned through his eyelids, his nose, and his ears. It had penetrated so deeply into his left leg that it had destroyed the muscle and exposed the bone, which was now riddled with cavities from the chemical reaction.

Mark was placed in a medically induced coma to spare him the excruciating pain. He remained in this state for four months. During this time, police located his father, Kees Van Dongen, in the Netherlands. When Kees arrived at the hospital in Bristol, he walked past the bed where his son lay, unable to recognize the figure before him. He went back to the nurses’ station, convinced they had sent him to the wrong room. They hadn’t. The son he knew, with his handsome face and bright future, was gone. In his place was a bandaged, disfigured survivor fighting for every breath.

When Mark finally woke up, his reality was grim. He was paralyzed from the neck down, a result of the trauma and complications. He was blind in one eye and had barely any vision in the other. His face was gone. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move his arms or legs, and was in constant, unyielding pain. The only way he could communicate was by sticking out his tongue to point at letters on a board. Through this painstaking process, he spelled out his agony. He told his father he wanted to die.

The investigation continued while Mark fought for his life. Police found that the acid had been so strong it had corroded the metal of the doorbell he had rung for help. The images of his injuries were deemed so disturbing that authorities decided they would never be released to the public, a testament to the severity of the assault.

Eventually, Mark regained some ability to speak, but his quality of life had been obliterated. He was moved to a care home in Gloucester, a place that was supposed to support his recovery. Instead, it became another chapter in his suffering. One night, he called his father, weeping, begging to be taken away. Kees drove the 800 miles from the Netherlands immediately. He found his son lying in his own waste, neglected and alone. It was the final straw. Kees hired a private ambulance and took Mark back to Belgium, where the family lived, and where the healthcare system could offer him better support.

But Mark’s body was failing. The acid had done irreparable damage not just to his skin, but to his internal resilience. He developed a severe lung infection. Doctors told him that to save his life, they would need to insert a permanent tube into his throat to clear his lungs. The procedure would cost him his voice forever. For Mark, his voice was the last shred of humanity and agency he had left. It was the only way he could speak to his father, the only way he could express his thoughts. The prospect of losing it was too much to bear.

In Belgium, the laws regarding end-of-life choices are different than in the UK. Euthanasia is legal under strict conditions, reserved for patients suffering from unbearable and untreatable physical or psychological pain. Mark applied for it. He had spent over a year in a body that had become a prison of pain. He had lost his sight, his mobility, his appearance, and his future. He did not want to live in silence, trapped in the dark. His application was granted.

On January 2, 2017, Mark Van Dongen passed away. He was 29 years old. He died surrounded by his family, finally free from the pain that had been inflicted upon him. His last moments were peaceful, a stark contrast to the violence of the attack that had led him there.

The trial of Berlinah Wallace began in 2018. The defense strategy was shocking to many. They argued that Berlinah was not responsible for Mark’s passing. They claimed that the doctors in Belgium who performed the euthanasia were the ones who legally caused his death, attempting to break the causal link between the acid attack and his demise. Berlinah took the stand and spun a web of lies. She claimed she thought the glass contained water. She claimed Mark had been abusive to her. She even suggested that Mark had poured the acid into the glass himself, hoping she would drink it, and that she had thrown it in self-defense or by accident.

However, the evidence told a different story. Her internet search history—82 searches about acid attacks—proved premeditation. She had researched the damage. She had bought the acid. She had tested it. The judge saw through her deception. In a scathing statement, the judge described the attack as “premeditated, sadistic, malicious, and callous.” She noted that Berlinah’s intention was clear: to burn, disfigure, and disable Mark so that he would never be attractive to another woman again. It was an act of supreme jealousy and possession.

Despite the overwhelming evidence of her intent to cause harm, the jury acquitted Berlinah of murder and manslaughter. Instead, she was found guilty of “throwing a corrosive substance with intent.” She was sentenced to life imprisonment with a minimum term of 12 years. The verdict was a bitter pill for Mark’s family, who felt that she had directly caused his death, even if the final mechanism was his own choice to end his suffering.

The case of Mark Van Dongen remains one of the most harrowing examples of domestic violence in recent UK history. It challenges our understanding of abuse, highlighting that men can be victims of extreme violence at the hands of female partners. It also brings to light the devastating and irreversible nature of chemical assaults. Acid attacks are uniquely cruel; they are designed not just to kill, but to erase. They take away a person’s face, their identity, and their future, leaving them with a lifetime of physical and psychological scars.

For Mark, the scars were too deep to live with. His story is a tragedy of a young life cut short by jealousy, and a father’s enduring love as he stood by his son through the darkest of journeys. The marks on the pavement and the doorbell in Bristol may fade with time, but the memory of what happened that September morning serves as a grim reminder of the darkness that can hide behind closed doors. Mark Van Dongen was a victim of a crime that was, in the words of the judge, “an act of pure evil.” And while he is gone, his story continues to be told, a warning and a plea for a world where “if I can’t have you” never becomes a death sentence.