( AUTOBIOGRAPHY) The Girl Who Did It On Her Own

Flashbacks And Nightmares

After that day, especially when the investigation was new, it was complete hell.

I would bathe with my clothes on, crying whilst scrubbing myself raw.

I felt disgusting, unclean. I felt like I could not wash his scent off of me.

The nightmares and flashbacks where all so consuming.

My mother didn't know what was going on. It must of been the third day of the investigation, this was before he was arrested and charged with his vile, putrid crime.

I was in the bath, sobbing uncontrollably, scrubbing away his vile touch. Whilst in my underwear.

My mother heard me from downstairs and came in to the bathroom.

I will never forget the look of her face, it was a look of complete horror and mortification.

She knew. Of course she knew.

I didn't care in that moment, all I did was beg her to make it stop, beg her to stop the flashbacks, beg her to help me scrub myself from his vile burning touch, and she did.

She made me stand up in the bath whilst she helped me scrub away his touch that will forever be burned into my mind.

She tried consoling me and telling me it was okay, I obviously knew it wasn't okay, but I played along with it.

She held me in her arms, not caring that I soaked her clothing with bath water and tears. She just held me and I wouldn't let go.

A daughter clinging on to her mother for dear life, for comfort. Terrified and re-living the nightmare over and over again.

The amount of times that I wished it was just that. A nightmare. Not the truth.

As a person you think it would never happen to you, I had always said "if a boy tries to do anything of the sort, I would kick them in the balls and run", but the thing is you don't.

I froze in complete white fear, I couldn't move. I guess that what disgusted me about myself the most.

I didn't fight back, I couldn't fight back.

I was a coward.

To this day, I cannot describe the feeling I felt in that moment, it was so powerful and all too consuming.

After that bath, my mother helped me out of it and helped me in to a clean pair of pjs.

I begged her not to tell my dad, but of course she had too.

He had a right to know, about what happened to his little girl.

I felt contaminated, I wasn't pure.

What would my friends and future boyfriend think of me? If I suddenly had a melt down whilst doing something consensual and had given consent to it.

After that night, I began to sleep with my mum every night because when I was asleep I was reliving the same thing that happened on that dreadful day.

Vivid images of what happened to me, the same pain I felt that day in a dream, that same disgusting smell of cologne he wore.

I hadn't even had my video interview yet and all this was happening.

I hadn't even started back and school again. I dreaded it, seeing the face of my worst nightmare everyday, in and around school without the school doing nothing, because of course...

It was innocent till proven guilty.

It became unbearable and the journey to court hadn't even started yet.

Would he admit what he did? Or would he be in denial, or would he refuse that he had committed such a vile crime, at such a young age.

At 12, a fully aged woman said I must of asked for it, when my mother went around doing the polices work to ask for witnesses.

That obviously made my mum punch her, any mum would do it.

If a fully aged woman in her 30s thought that, what would others thing?

At such a young age as well, the naivety of what people make on their own opinion is a powerful thing.

Especially, by not getting both sides of the story.

All I would think about was him, the sinister look he had whilst he did what he did.

A complete monster.
A demon.

Feeding off of my screams of agony and pain, begging him to stop.

I re-lived it everyday, not even in my sleep I could escape from him.

He was always there, without a fail- every single torturous night.

Sometimes, I would wake up to my own whimpers of pain and screams, begging for him to stop.

Breaking out in a cold sweat.

Other nights, my mum would hear my whimpers and please and wake me up and hug me.

I would cling onto her for dear life, she was my only salvation. Clinging on to her for life, as if I would stop and she would be gone and he, there instead of my mum.

Covering myself up, to stop other wondering eyes, looking at my body.

I would look at myself in the mirror everyday, disgusted with what I saw.

I was disconnected from myself and society. I even stopped eating and that wasn't because I was starving myself, I just had no appetite.

Everything I ate, immediately went through me or came straight back up.

And unfortunately, that wasn't even the start of my long journey in to hell.