As has been said many times before, this may be particularly upsetting to many of you and I would warn, if you are feeling particularly vulnerable, please leave this till you fell stronger.
I was fifteen in August 1981 and it was the school holidays, my parents decided to take us on holiday to Hemsby in Norfolk. We were to stay at a Pontins Holiday Camp with another family from our road, whilst another of the streets families stayed in a cottage in the village. The first thing I remember of the camp is that it had these huge grey iron gates with a security man standing guard and asking for proof that we were indeed staying there. We were directed to the main office and waited while my father sorted everything out, then we went to the chalet that was to be home for the next two weeks.
Maybe I should explain a few things about myself first before I continue. I’ve already said how old I was but what I didn’t say was that I am disabled with a heart condition. My life up until then had been one of operations and constant illness with chest infections, pneumonia, bronchitis etc., so my parents haven’t had it exactly easy over the years. Also because of the illness I didn’t and still don’t have that much strength and I weighed approximately 5½ stone, which is about 77 pounds. I’d led quite a sheltered life and hadn’t even kissed a guy let alone anything else.
I know the day was a Thursday, but I’m not sure of the date, I think it was either the 6th or the 13th. It seems strange not being able to remember the date of something that has basically ruined my life but then there is still so much that I don’t remember, or should I say don’t want to remember. That day the family that was staying in the cottage, we’ll call them Parsons, came over to stay with us for the day. They had two boys and a girl and I had a crush on the oldest boy called Sean. We were due to go swimming so I got ready but happened to sneeze so my mother decided that I would just have to watch the others. This really annoyed me at the time because in the other family, we’ll call Gould, there were two girls one of whom, Tracey, was my age and also had a crush on Sean. She spent the entire time flirting with Sean whilst I just had to sit there and watch.
That evening we were going to take the Parsons out to dinner then back to their place and Tracey was not going to be there. I didn’t have much time to get ready, I don’t remember why, so instead of changing out of my swim stuff I put my blue dress over the top. That dress was my favourite; it had an elasticised waist, which because of my weight rested on my hips, so the skirt came just above my knees, instead of the intended mini. It was really plain and had three buttons on the left-hand shoulder, but the best thing about it though was the colour, it was like cornflowers, and a summer’s day all rolled into one and I just adored it. To finish off I had black tights, black patent sandals and make up. When I look back now I can’t help feeling that I was asking for trouble, I’m sorry but that’s how I feel.
We had dinner, which was nice, and Sean spent the entire time trying to avoid even talking to me; I was gutted to say the least. We took the Parsons back to their cottage and then went back to the camp. I met up with Tracey and our parents decided it was ok for us to go to the nightclub. Tracey bought the drinks and I had my first and only cinzano and lemonade, I thought I was a real lady sitting there, stupid when you think about it. At around ten Tracey’s mum turned up to see if we were ok, by that time my swim wear was starting to irritate so I made the biggest mistake of my life and decided to go back to the chalet to change. Our chalet was just a minute’s walk away, if that, so I told Mrs Gould where I was going and that I’d be back in a little while.
When I came out of the night-club I had to go down some steps and to my left was the cabaret area, where I’d left my parents, I then had to go along a kind of alley to reach my chalet. It wasn’t really an alley because to the left and above me was a patio area where people were sitting eating fish and chips and to my right were various shops etc. and the pool hall. Tracey and I spent a lot of our time there and had got to know quite a few of the other players so I decided to see if anyone was about. The pool hall was on the point of closing and apart from the caretaker there was only one other person in the place and he was playing on a space-invader machine. The caretaker looked up at me then went back to work, the other guy said hello and to this day I still don’t remember if I spoke to him; I don’t think I did but I can’t be sure. As it was closing I left to continue towards the chalet.
The next thing I remember is hearing running footsteps and as the alley was quite wide and I walk so slowly I moved to the left to let the person pass, which he did. I wasn’t paying much attention, I was still thinking about Sean, so I didn’t notice that the person had stopped in front of me until it was too late. I went to try and go around him but he moved in front of me again. I know I said excuse me, he hadn’t said anything until then and when he did start talking all he said was ‘you really like me,’ over and over. At this point I realised that it was the guy from the pool hall, that had been playing on the space-invader machine, but I still wasn’t scared or worried, I should have been.
What happened next was so fast I still can’t seem to work out what happened or how. He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed me turning me round at the same time until I was facing back towards the nightclub. The speed of him was unbelievable and to this day I find it hard to explain exactly what I mean by that. I think it was because it was so unexpected and my mind had been on such normal things that to then switch to trying to survive was too much for me or anyone to deal with. Or maybe it is because, I believed and still do believe that, he was practised in what he did and how to get it. I remember a feeling of ice cold paralysis running quickly through my body and that his arm was around my neck and his hand held my wrist tightly to my chest. I remember my other arm being forced up behind my back but I don’t really remember the pain that produced in any great depth. But mostly I remember that we were somehow walking forward, back along the way I had just traversed, and that there were still people about, yet I didn’t cry out.
Why didn’t I cry out, why didn’t I scream?
Everything seemed to be getting slower and the colour had drained from everywhere so that I was vaguely aware that everybody had turned to varying shades of grey. Where once there had been warming yellow lights lighting everything and everyone, they had become grey and cold. I was aware also of people laughing and shouting and in my mind I wondered were they laughing at me, was it still all some big joke that nobody had let me in on? Perhaps he was taking me back to the night-club I thought; I was still trying to justify what was happening because it all felt so unreal like some sort of dream that you try to wake up from but can’t.
We turned the corner towards the children’s play area and he walked me down the alley towards the dark. As we walked I became aware that the nightclub was on my right and there was music playing and men shouting. The music was what I can only term as ‘strip music’ because they had a ‘Miss Wet T-shirt Competition’ going on, I don’t think I will ever forget that music for as long as I live or the feeling that it was directed at me.
He slammed me against the wall at the end of the alley and pinned me there with his left arm, he was still telling me how much I liked him and then he said that he could tell I liked him as soon as he saw me. What had I done to make him think that I wanted this, what did I do wrong?
Then something strange happened, I remembered something I had read or heard somewhere, that if you talk to someone and keep talking they find it harder to hurt you. I started to talk to him and this took such an effort, simple things first like what was his name to what star sign was he, anything to stop him from hurting me. When he told me his name I remember saying such a stupid thing; that it was the same name as my fathers, I can’t believe I thought of that let alone said it because he was nothing like my father. Then I suddenly couldn’t think of anything else to talk about my mouth had gone dry and my mind blank. He actually asked me if I would like to go back to his chalet, as I would be more comfortable there. What had I done? I’d made him think that I wanted him even more by talking to him, he thought we were on a date, that this was real and that I liked him, what had I done?
I didn’t answer, I couldn’t and that was when I saw him change; his eyes went from being alive and still partially human to being dead and as black as pitch. There was only one light in that alley, which was some distance away and the shadows caused him to look even more dark and death like.
His first touch numbed me to the core, he was kissing me whilst he pinned me there, then with his free hand he was touching me all over, tearing at my legs, my tights and the bikini bottoms then putting his fingers inside me. My arms became so limp, I was a rag doll, I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t cry, nothing I just focused on the light at the other end of the alley and told myself over and over ‘I’m not here, I’m not here.’
He grabbed my hand and made me touch him, somehow I was on the ground but I don’t remember how, then he was inside me. I could still see the light on the wall and tried to count the bricks but I couldn’t remember more than ten and had to re-count them over and over again. I was still pinned by his arm at my neck and as he got more excited the less I was allowed to breathe. The last thing I remember before I phased out the first time was that he bit my shoulder and the top of my arm, then nothing.
I say I phased out but I’m not really sure about what happened, maybe I just can’t or don’t want to remember all of it. The next thing I remember was that I was face down on the concrete floor and he was angry with me. That was when I first saw the blade of the knife, he rested it on my cheek near my eye and he kept saying that I hadn’t pleased him, that I hadn’t made him happy but I couldn’t remember what I’d done wrong or what I was supposed to do. I remember also the roughness of the concrete against my cheek and feeling his breath on my face as he whispered quietly into my ear that even though he loved me I would have to be punished, then there was pain unlike anything I can describe. It felt like my spine was on fire but even that doesn’t describe it I don’t think anything can, I wanted to die but once again I phased out.
He’s still so angry and he’s pulling me upright by my hair, I remember trying to protect my head but he shoved me against the wall, I’m so dazed, my head hurts and he’s standing in front of me. I see the knife it’s in a pouch now on his belt, I know he’s going to use it, I know I’m going to die, please God make it quick. He’s holding my nose closed, I can’t breathe. ‘Come on bitch, make me happy.’ Please God I don’t want to do this, please don’t make me do this, I can’t breathe, I have no choice… I can’t breathe, I want to die, let me die, please I can’t take anymore, I phase out again. When I came to I’d been sick, my bikini bottoms were back on, he’d dressed me and I was laying on the floor shivering whilst he urinated up against the wall with his back to me. A voice went off inside my head ‘get up, run’ it was so commanding that I staggered to my feet and started running. In my heart I knew that if I didn’t run I would die because that was all that was left to be done, to this day I will never know how I came to have the strength to run but I made it to the night-club and relative safety.
Inside the nightclub it was so dark and all I remember is seeing men laughing, shouting, drinking beer and way off in a corner I could see Tracey. I went to the toilets, I was like some sort of robot by now and I locked myself in one of the cubicles. I was on autopilot. I stuffed tissues into the bottom of my swim stuff to try and stop the bleeding. I cleaned up the scratches, took off what was left of my tights and put them in a bin. I was sick again until there was nothing more left inside me and I was just retching. When I finally came out of the cubicle there was another woman there she just looked at me and then left, I looked in the mirror, washed my face, smoothed out my hair as best I could and then just stood there looking at my reflection but not really seeing. Tracey came in to see if I was ok and for one instant I was going to tell her what happened but suddenly realised that I didn’t know how to, I didn’t know what words to use, I was just a child how could I know. I simply told her that a man had stopped me and wouldn’t let me get past and that was all anyone was told.
I have often wondered why I never cried, not during or afterwards, maybe it was because there was nothing left. I have a photo that was taken the very next day and to look at it you would never have known that anything had happened to me. I can even remember the photo being taken and being told to stop being such a misery, to smile, but I just felt so empty and alone inside.
Surprisingly what hurt the most wasn’t the physical pain but the fact that he is the only man to ever tell me he loved me. I hope and pray that his kind of love isn’t all there is, because I know when my boyfriends have physically hurt me I have just figured that this is what guys do, that this is what love is.
I have hidden what happened for seventeen years and paid dearly for it. I am unable to have a stable relationship of any kind because I have panic attacks and flashbacks, as I can’t cope with being touched. Yet at the same time all I have ever wanted was for someone to put their arm round me and tell me that I’m safe and it’s going to be ok, but to date that still hasn’t happened, maybe one day I will be lucky. I have tried to tell on numerous occasions all to no avail until I found this site and some new friends outside of cyber space and now I have three people who know some of what has happened.
I wish that things had worked out differently, that I had told someone at the time, but there was no childline, no understanding from the police or press and certainly no understanding from the public. I knew that nobody would believe a disabled child and would see it only as me trying to get attention or being mentally unbalanced. I feared being put into an institution, I feared not being believed, I feared the shame it would have inflicted on my family and later on I feared that I had caught Aids or some other disease. Fortunately I found out that I hadn’t caught anything, that I had been lucky for want of a better word.
Throughout these seventeen years I have felt alone with my fears, that I caused what happened, that I am to blame so I have gone down the roads of self harm, alcohol and drug abuse and suicide attempts. My intelligence tells me that it wasn’t my fault, that he was to blame, that he took a sick child and destroyed her innocence but deep inside my heart still blames me and I think it always will.
It has taken me a long time to write this but I felt that I needed to and it has helped because I no longer feel like this is a dirty secret that I have to keep within me. By posting this to the web site it is like it is no longer part of my body, and the guilt I feel for not telling and possibly letting someone else get hurt will I hope be lessened.
There is of course a lot more to my story as there is with anyone’s, but this is all I feel able to tell for now. I hope that whoever reads this will understand just how much we have all been through and are still going through, in some cases, and that despite it all we have and will survive.
By Vikki-Omega 30th January 1999
Last updated 3rd February 1999