Jade's Story

I was 6 years old when I remember my earliest memory. It started innocently; a man we had known our whole lives, which my dad went to school with and remained best friends with; who my whole family trusted and respected until I finally told my family in 2008 the truth of what he was like. I am the oldest of 5 children though back in 97 when this began there was only me and one of my 2 brothers and one of my 2 sisters in existence; the others were born years later.

The first incident happened one day when he was babysitting me and my brother and sister. My mum and dad were attending a funeral (I think) and he was minding us in our house. We was playing happily until about an hour into the day he sent my brother and sister to go and hide in the house and that me and him would count and I would find them. We thought nothing of this and me being the oldest thought ok fair enough I’m the biggest so I’m on. However when my brother and sister went to hide Mick started snogging me and touching my legs. Having never done this before I didn't know what to say or do. He told me quietly (as my siblings played) that "this was my first kiss. He told me it was the start of something very special indeed between me and him and that we were going to become more than just very good friends. He told me I couldn't tell my mum or dad or anyone though because if I did I would get into a lot of trouble. He told me that my mum and dad would stop loving me and send me away with social services to live with another family. I was scared; I didn't know what to do. Was what he had said right or not? I cried myself to sleep every night for a week and a half afterwards and when my mum would ask I simply told her I had had a bad dream. Little did I know this was the start of a six year catalogue of sexual abuse?

When he came down next time was about 2 weeks after that first incident; we were sent to bed at approximately 7.30 ‘ish. I was in bed and sharing a bedroom with my 3-4 year old sister at the time that was fast asleep. About an hour after I was sent to bed I heard him ask my mum could he use the toilet. I heard him walk upstairs and go to the toilet (which was adjacent to my bedroom) and I heard him flush the chain. Then I heard him step on the creaky floorboard outside my door. He opened my door and peered around at my sister who was asleep. My dad shouted up to him did he want a brew and he replied “yes I’ll be down now” and stepped around my bedroom door. As he closed the door and turned my light on I realised his penis was hanging out of his fly and not realizing it was done intentionally, covered my face with my hands embarrassed and giggly and said to him "Uncle Mick I think you need to fasten your fly." He replied with "Awww your naughty you should not be looking there I might have to tell your daddy on you." But still didn't adjust his fly, I responded with "but you shouldn't have it out it should be in your fly" he shushed at me and put his hand over my mouth told me that if I didn't want him to tell my dad I had to do this one little thing for him and keep it all a secret. I agreed scared. He lifted my nighty up and began to perform oral sex on me while masturbating. When he finished he ejaculated (I didn't know what this was at the time I was only 6 years old) and it went on my naked lower half and the wall. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped it up. Then he kissed me. I didn't know what to do I just lay there while this happened I didn't know how to stop him or even that this was wrong but I knew it wasn't normal. He then stood up fixed his pants and left quietly. I heard him use the toilet again, wash his hands and go back downstairs laughing and joking with my dad. I didn't sleep that night I just lay there in silence wondering what had just happened to me. I didn't speak of what happened but it continued to happen over the course of the next 6 years. I was regularly forced to perform oral sex and other lude acts, but thankfully I don't ever remember him actually raping me and for that reason I don't think he did. He may never have done that but I remember him using his fingers. I don't want to sit and list every time something happened as I would be there for days but it happened regularly until I was 12. He would also regularly visit my parents’ house which is when things would happen and he regularly had sweets and presents and sometimes cute little nighties. He used to buy presents for my brother like toy cars and random bits and pieces for my sister too. Funnily enough it was the nighties he gave me that I wore when things happened.
I was about 12 when the whole family had to go the Asda and he offered to come with us. I don't quite remember how but I wound up in his car. I was feeling sick and scared and just stared out the window when he put his hand on my leg while he was driving and said “so have you had your first kiss then?” I replied “no” and pushed his hand away. He then said to me “so what was the last 6 years all about then with me and you, I thought we had something special.” I looked at him and said to him “no the last 6 years haven't been anything special at all and I swear to god if you don't get your hand off my leg I’m going to tell me dad everything you have done and we will soon see what happens.” He got angry and scoffed at me saying "ha ha who do you think your dads going to believe? You…a little 12 year old whose highly likely to lie or me his best friend for over 30 years who he went to school with? I think we both know you’re not stupid enough to jump out of a moving car.” I grabbed the steering wheel and nearly caused a crash, but he grabbed the wheel back quickly. When we got to Asda, dad asked me what had gone on and what did I think I was playing at. He had seen me grab the wheel. I just glared at Mick and said to him I’m not saying sorry. My dad obviously oblivious to the 6 years of torment I had endured (he didn't find out until 2009 as that was my choice not to speak out) thought it was a fitting punishment to ban me from sitting in the front of any car again. He didn't suspect anything when I made the sly comment saying good I don't want to anyhow. We did the shopping then went on holiday. I think after that we saw him once or twice and he didn't attempt anything with me. At the time I was just glad that it was over and still didn’t think I should speak out. I did worry about him trying to do it to another little girl and for that admittedly I feel guilty but I really didn't think about that.

We didn't see him for a while and I think it was a couple of months before my birthday I read in the local paper that he had died. He was found dead in a pub car park around 4am dead after choking on his own vomit. At that point I remember thinking well now if I speak put he can’t do anything because he’s not here to threaten me or bully me, but then I remember thinking well maybe it’s pointless now he’s dead there's nothing at all that can be done. I don't think his family were aware and all it would do was open up a new world of torment for me. For that reason I never once discussed it with anyone. I kept that dirty little secret to myself until I was raped 28th January 2008. I was 16. I had an argument with my mum and left home. I had been seeing this lad for about a month had never done anything and considered myself a virgin. I fell ill and he was complaining saying how he didn't think I’d ever give him a baby. He tried to touch me but I stopped him and I said I’ve just told you I’m not up to it, I’m not well. I rolled over with my back to him and started to fall asleep. He tried again and again and I told him stop or you’re on the couch he huffed and puffed and rolled over this time. I made myself stay awake till I truly thought he had fallen asleep. About 2am I was woken up and couldn't move my arms or legs to roll over, I looked up and he was on top of me raping me. I fell pregnant with my first born son through that rape.

During the first month or two after the rape I continued living in his flat but I would barricade myself in the bedroom by pushing the bed and draws in front of the door. On one occasion I caught him standing on a chair to see through the little window above the door so I got a tin of gloss and glossed the window. When I found out I was pregnant I was sat in the toilet repeatedly saying “oh shit” but he burst through the door, saw the test and was all made up. I pushed him away and I locked myself in the bedroom got ready for work and tried to leave. He grabbed me by the wrist and refused to let me leave alone slamming and locking the door in front of me so I couldn't get out.

I was in college and working and he instantly became paranoid and would routinely sit outside the door to my classroom in college, or in the lobby where I worked behind the till. There was one occasion when I nearly lost my job because I went to go to the toilet and because he couldn't see me he tried entering a staff only area through the hallway area behind the toilets and staff caught him and he said I had said it was ok to follow me down the staff hallway. At this point k was about six weeks pregnant and he was pinning me up against the wall in his flat living room and hitting me. One night he forced me to tell my mum, so I text her and she flipped we didn't speak for three days after that. I told my dad and he put the phone down on me. When we finally spoke to my mum, we went to her house for tea and to sort it out. My five year old brother has Asperger’s syndrome and he was showing off to us in the living room so I went to speak to my mum briefly and come back into her living room to see him stood there with his fist raised at my brother. The man was twenty four years old, my brother was 5. I instantly pushed him and said to him what the hell do you think you are doing that's my brother. You've got two choices either get the hell out of this house and that's us over and don't ever bother contacting me or you sit down and stay away from that child. Next time I see you raise your finger to him again I swear to god ill rip your head off and shit down your neck. He gave me a look and I knew I was getting it when we left my mums and then sat down. I sat down next to him as my mum was coming in the room and she had no idea what had happened and he turned around and punched me in the right side of my stomach hard. My brother witnessed this and straight away turned around and squared up to him, punched him and broke his nose. I am gutted my baby brother has to see all this but part of me is buzzing to this day at the fact that a five year old broke a twenty four year  old full grown man’s nose in one punch. To this day my brother is wary of any man he sees me talk to whether it’s a good friend or a boyfriend. In fact I've only had one or two boyfriends since those days and it has been 6 years. The only one my brother has ever actually given a chance to, is my current partner.  We have been together 4 years and he has been there for me through most of the shit and we plan to get married soon.

As for my children, I battled for 6 years and continue to battle to this very day for my sons to be returned to my care. After the psychologists report, social services had their own leverage to eventually find a way to take them from me because of all that I had been through and the way my son had been conceived.  He is now six and his brother is five. Throughout my pregnancy everyone around me criticised me for not terminating the pregnancy; my mum, social workers (who got involved before I had even given birth to my first child) my boss and my nan. The midwives at hospital at 16 weeks told me they would get social services involved if I didn't terminate my pregnancy. I didn't terminate because the way I saw it, I had a mental block.

I went to the police who didn't even arrest the man they posted a note through his door asking him to attend the police station. I fought for two years to keep my boys but social services finally managed to find a way to take my boys from me. They made me see a psychologist who made me tell her my life events in great detail, including all of what I have written here today as a survivor. That psychologist stated in her report that I was completely unaware of the impact that my life events had had on me as a person and the potential effects it could have on my parenting skills. I do not know exactly what they meant by that, but I can assure you all that I am more qualified than most people to recognise when a child is possibly being abused and I am more equipped to help that child work through the aftermath of the ordeal than a counsellor. They may have all the qualifications in the world but they haven’t experienced the ordeal.

I believe the only way that this would have impacted on my parenting would be to make me 1000 times more vigilant to the signs of possible child abuse. My partner read the report and he said to me I think they were trying to say you posed a threat because your life events have warped your thought processes. I find this highly disgusting as I have never ever had a thought like that once about anyone. I am a survivor who learnt to live with these ghastly events in silence. I have never received counselling for the sexual abuse I went through as a child. I have been through about six blocks of one on one counselling sessions and seventeen weeks of cognitive behaviour therapy (CBT) for the rape and domestic violence I endured with my little boy’s father. I am a very proud mum to my two boys and only hope they never have to endure anything like this or even read this. As for young children who had the courage to stand up and speak out, you really are brave people. You've done the right thing and not everyone is the same. As for the victims, who like I did for so long continue to suffer in silence, don't be scared to speak up. This doesn't have to continue and you are certainly not going to get in trouble, so tell someone you know very well and trust and they will help you; it’s not your fault.

This is my story that not many people know and though my abuser is dead there's many more at large. I share my story in the hope that it will make people realise exactly what some people endure but there are many more who have suffered worse. It’s disgusting but I hope my story inspires some of you to come forward and share your own story. Make your story known and put these abusers and predators to shame. As a result of my abuse and demons I now suffer with numerous mental health issues including PTSD, agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, adjustment disorder and am waiting to be referred back to the psychiatrist. I'm now 23 years of age and have already been told one more stress could kill me. I just wish I had spoken out sooner. Thanks for reading.

Written by Jade
Edited and Posted by Team Inspire with permission via email contact
04.12.14