Everyday Victim Blaming

challenging institutional disbelief around domestic & sexual violence and abuse

Followed, fed and forced (Content Note)

Followed, fed and forced – 14 and frightened

So I suppose I should go back slightly earlier to almost the beginning of the spiral of abuse. This is not the start of my story, but to me, its very significant.

My family is fairly well-known where I live, my mum works in a local school, so her face and name is a familiar one, she works with vulnerable children within a state school, thus meaning everyone knows her.

I used to follow the same routine pretty much everyday, finish school, scurry home, get changed and walk to my best friends house. Her house was a short walk away from mine, around a church yard, which had held many of our childhood memories and where our friendship had initially begun. To us, this was a safe place, a happy place.

The one particular afternoon, I did my normal routine but as I got to the other side of the church yard, there was a car there, a Nissan micra in purple, with a middle-aged man inside. He called my name, so I looked across, I remember feeling terrified, scared and shocked. How did he know MY name? He told me to come over to him, so I did, I asked him how he knew my name and what he wanted. He told me my mum teaches his daughter and that his daughter loves my mum. His English was good, but he had a very strong Pakistani accent, sometimes it was difficult to understand what he was saying. He had a thick black moustache and dark brown eyes, even then he looked scary to me. But he said he knew my mum and that she was very nice. I got into a short conversation with him then tried to carry on where I was going, he followed me down the hill towards my friend’s house in his car. He called my name again, this time he used an angry tone, he told me he had been following me for weeks, trying to get a chance to speak to me. He told me he had my phone number, he even showed me on his phone. I was utterly gob smacked and told him to delete it. He said he would delete it, if I didn’t tell my mum he’d spoken to me, he said she would be angry with me for speaking to strange men in cars. He laughed and left.

That was not the end, and I was very naive to believe he would delete my phone number.

A few days passed and he started to call me, I answered the first call, as I didn’t know who it was, he told me to meet him, as he wanted to talk about the conversation we’d had in the days previously. I told him to leave me alone and hung up the phone. I felt scared, I couldn’t tell my mum, because she would be angry, just like he said, she’d wonder why I had spoken to a stranger, and she’d think I gave him my phone number.
He put my phone number on redial until I answered again, fearfully. I remember answering the call, “I know where you are now, I am outside”, he said, “meet me and I will tell you how I get your number”. I looked outside my sisters window, and there he was parked on the path, right outside my house. I made the decision to go and meet him, I wanted to know how he knew so much about me. “Ok”, I said “5 minute, church” he told me.

So I got ready and left to the church, where he had stopped me before. He was there before me, he stood, leaning against a waist height wall, waiting for me. I remember the way he looked at me that day, he had the devil in his eyes. He told me to come close to him so he could show me he would delete my phone number, so being the gullible girl I was at 14, I did as I was told. He pulled my teenage body right against his and started touching my bottom and my breasts, I could feel his moustache rubbing against my cheek, he was trying to kiss me. I froze, panic-stricken I couldn’t move. “kiss me”, he said, I didn’t want to, I pushed him away and told him he’s disgusting. All I wanted to know is how he got my phone number. ” I give five pounds for it” he said. All I remember thinking is ‘WHAT THE FUCK’. I had no idea, anyone would ever buy, or sell for that matter a phone number, a name, other details of a person, but that is what had happened.

He told me he would give me money, just to meet and talk, and if I ever needed a lift, all I had to do is ring him, he told me anytime, day or night he would be available. That was that for that day, but it didn’t stop there.

He continued to call me everyday. Begging me to meet him, the more I refused and told him to go away, the more persistent he became, it got to a point where he was following me everywhere, with my phone number still on redial. Until one day, he made a threat to me, he told me that if I didn’t meet him, he would be telling my mum at school, in front of everyone that I am a prostitute. He said there was no way that my mum would believe me if I was to tell the truth, because no one believes me, what an adult says is the truth. At this point I was so confused and frightened, I agreed to meet him again.

This time he made me get in the car, he told me to lie on the back seat, so no one would see me, I felt so embarrassed and scared, I didn’t know where we were going, or what was happening.
He started to drive as I lay there wondering what my fate was. Finally we stopped, in a small country road that only leads to a farm, so the only traffic was the farmer or his wife. Sadly for me, on this occasion neither of them went past. He quickly jumped from the front seat through the chairs into the back and on top of me. He wore traditional dress, his trousers had an elasticated waist so he just pulled them right down, he held my arms down on the seat, he had one knee on top of my chest and the other on the floor. He was pushing his penis into my face. I turned my head into the seat, This made him very angry. He started shouting at me, he punched me in the stomach and called me a bitch. He told me to touch his dick or he’ll strip me and leave me there.

Trying to determine the lesser of two evils in my mind, I decided to comply with what he was saying. Touching him made me feel physically sick. Again, I could feel his long moustache on my face as he tried to force me to kiss him, by this point he had straddled me, so I could not move, he undid my trousers. I distinctly remember him telling me how sexy I am and that he has been wanking over me. “I have waited” he said as he grinned at me, again, the devil in his eyes. He told me not to be scared and that he would not hurt me. “Look at my big dick”, he said as he stared, into my glazed over eyes. He pushed my top up and pulled my bra back, to reveal my teenage body. He groped me. I think this was the time, I learned how to switch off, fear numbed my body and my mind. That day, he raped me, and he continued to do so almost daily for the three years that followed. If I refused to meet him, I would be bombarded with phone calls, he would catch me out when I was alone, I would make excuses not to see him, but he would always find a way to trap me, to pull me in his car and rape me.
Often, he would bring food or give me mobile phone top ups, that’s because I used to use “I’m waiting for my mum to cook tea”, or ” I can’t call you, I have no phone credit”, as excuses not to meet him, or return his calls like he demanded.

This man gives me nightmares to this day. I have so much more to write on him, but I will leave this here for now. To be continued.

This post was first published here. Thanks to author for permission to cross post.

 

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2 thoughts on “Followed, fed and forced (Content Note)

  • So sad says:

    Abusers have a way of getting into your head, and staying there, they can make you believe that no matter what you do, who you tell or where you go they will get to you, like there is no escape, but I want to say to you that you were a child, he was wrong not you, all you did was survive, and you did, a survivor is an amazing person because no matter the terror you endured your still here, that in its self is amazing and so are you, stay strong and take care. X

  • secret_slave says:

    Thank you so much for your comment, I appreciate your words and I will carry on trying to get my life back on track.