My life was never the same after a night in the summer of 2013. I was locked in a house to be raped, I was fed stories of how I was going to be taken on a plane to move to turkey, I would mother his children (who were my god daughters) and I would never return. I was forced to sit on his lap, I was told what was going to happen to me.
He locked the door. I was locked in his house.
Luckily enough I managed to escape and I ran home before anything extremely damaging was done. But it doesn’t mean I wasn’t damaged. It doesn’t mean I’m not scared of the dark. It doesn’t mean I can be home alone.
He turned up at my house the next day demanding to see me, he rang me, he text me. He lived down the fucking road. His children were my god daughters, his girlfriend was my best friend.
The worst part of all – I still see him. I still see him in the street, I still hear about him.
I think maybe it’s time I finally spoke about this, time I finally reached out for help. He ruined my life.