The last thing I said before I went to sleep was,
‘no, it won’t. Nothing will ever be ok again.’
When I was 15, I met Scott*. He was the cool older guy with the nice-ish car, his own house (council rented, but it seemed very grown up to me), and a loud group of friends who all seemed to look up to him in some way – a bit of a ringleader if you like. He already had two children from a previous relationship. I think he was 21 or 22, not older than that, but still too old for me. I didn't think so at the time, though. When I was invited to his house for a party by a friend and he looked my way, I was overwhelmed. I didn't think anyone like him would ever look twice at me. I had very low self-worth and a deep need to feel like I belonged somewhere.
When I met Scott’s children, I fell into the role of glorified babysitter very easily. I loved playing mum with them. I grew very close to them and them to me over the months we were together. Of course, it was all a fantasy. I was being blatantly used. Scott had countless other sexual partners and made me aware that if I didn't do something for him, then they would.
It was a very abusive relationship, but I didn't know any different after my childhood. It felt like he was all I had. So, I went along with everything he asked of me, like an obedient puppy.
I remember they came to take me in and lay me on the bed to be put to sleep. I was crying so hard. The nurse was stroking my hair and saying, ‘it will all be ok’. The last thing I said before I went to sleep was, ‘no, it won’t. Nothing will ever be ok again.’
When I came around, I jumped off the bed and just wanted to leave. I said, ‘well, that's that done, then’. I remember all the women in their beds. They were sad; they were looking at me with an odd look that asked, ‘why aren’t you crying?’.
I JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO SAY