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A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

I'm not sure where to start. I feel like it was my fault. I should have tried harder, ignored more, never gone when he called.. but I didn't and then this happened. I am still coming to terms with it. It happened two days ago. He is my friend's husband. He knows I have an emotionally and sometimes physically abusive husband. He knows and he and his wife, one of my best friends, the godmother of my second, have tried to help. They both came over to the country where I live. Their oldest, whom I adore like my own, is at university here. My friends went back. He texted, asking if I wanted to meet up because my friend had been ill and we couldn't meet this time. I said sure. We had done this a thousand times before. We were very very close friends. We had gone on trips together since the children were 2 and a bit..we were practically family. We hung out, went to each other's houses, spent time together with our families, went to meals alone or with each other's families it was all normal. He had always some across as someone who teased a little, said the odd inappropriate thing, even in front of my friend, his wife and over the 20+ years I had known him, this was just dismissed as part of who he is, we rolled our eyes, raised our eyebrows, laughed a little and carried on. It was never anything else. Until two days ago. His wife had gone back home last week. He was still here. He asked me to come over, we could go to lunch before he went back, I said sure. He then said he was "excited" to see me. I ignored it and in my head just dismissed it as him being silly. He said he would meet me at the train station. When I got there he had some bags, he asked if I minded leaving them at home before lunch. I shrugged, it was at that point totally normal. He lived 5 minutes away by cab, I had been to to the house a zillion times, I was stupid. I got in to the cab and when we went over, he said, let me leave this and come down, he went up stairs. He was dressed up...very well. I was in a hoodie and jeans. I laughed and asked what on earth he was dressed up for. He looked at me and suddenly said, you look good, have you been working out. I laughed..I looked far from good. I am now 48 and years of emotional and physical trauma have taken their toll. I had not coloured my hair, I had lost some weight but I still felt that after two children, I was fat, flabby and ugly. I was cold. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I had some water. It was mid morning. He turned up the heating and asked if we should order in. I said yes because it was so cold outside and I couldn't be bothered going out again...this again, was normal. I kicked my shoes off and crossed my legs under me on the sofa warming my hands on the radiator behind. He laughed and took one hand in his, saying gosh you are freezing.. I didn't think anything of it. I put both hands back on the radiator and said, I'll warm up in a bit. We started talking. He asked me how things were. With my husband, the kids, I asked him. We talked about not being able to meet properly, go on a trip..all normal. His dad was friends with my dad. I asked after his parents, he asked after mine. Again, totally casual. Totally normal. There was a fox in the garden. I remember that. I thought it was cute. He laughed at me saying there are always foxes around here. He asked if I wanted to listen to some music while we waited for the food. I said sure. He put music on and then asked if I wanted to dance. I was taken aback but again, stupidly, stupidly, laughed it off, saying no. I hadn't danced in years. I felt slightly uncomfortable but didn't want to see weird to him so I pulled a couple of cushions around me and snuggled into my little corner of the sofa. He sat at the other end. He pulled his phone out. Asked if I wanted to see what the menus were like, I leaned over and then he tried to nuzzle my neck, he put his arm around me. I got a shock and pushed him off, saying what are you doing, are you mad...what is wrong with you. He said, "don't be so silly, I'm just trying to give you a hug...you've been through so much....you've got so much on your plate. I feel sorry for you. Seriously, don't be so stressed and uptight. relax". I felt foolish so I didn't say anything and he moved away so I thought it was ok. I stretched my back scrolling through the menus because my shoulders hurt. He picked up on it and said, "do you want me to give your shoulders a quick rub". I said, "no, I'm fine.". He came closer. Said, "I'm pretty good at giving massages." I was beginning to think I should leave. I said, "please don't. I'm fine." He said "ok fine" and moved back to just chatting about life, about the country he came and I originally came from which was in political turmoil, we talked about our kids. I relaxed. That's when it happened. The music went off. The blue tooth thingy was behind me. He stood up, went over to put it back on and then leaned over and grabbed my shoulders from behind. I gasped. He is 6'1 or 2" and I am 5"1. He pushed me down on the sofa, came from the side..I still can't really remember how he got there and started kissing me hard. I tried to move, I kept repeating, "stop, stop, stop, stop, why are you doing this. Please stop. You can't do this." He only replied saying, "please, stop struggling..it's only a little kiss. Just one kiss.." but it wasnt. I tried to turn my face. By this point, he was on top of me, holding me down, holding my arms above my head. His legs on either side of mine and his entire weight on me. I couldn't breathe. I tried to speak again and screamed, "stop". He said "stop screaming and kiss me." I turned away and with his free hand, he pressed my cheeks hard so I would open my mouth. He put his tongue in, and wouldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. All I remember was panicking..thinking about my friend, thinking what this would do to her. I couldn't stop him. He turned my face away and then put his tongue in my year. He lifted my top, snapped my bra open and pushed it up and started sucking and licking my breasts, I was sobbing now and saying, "no no no don't do this...please stop..please, please don't do this.." He said, "ok ok..I'm stopping and stuck his hand between my legs. He pulled my head back so it was almost hanging off the sofa and leaned on top of me saying, "lick me" ..I turned my head away and he pulled on my hair and put even more weight on my arms leaning forward and pushing his chest on to me. He brought his hand up again squeezing my cheeks in till I opened my mouth...and then pushed his nipple into my mouth. He put his hand back down between my legs. I was wriggling and moving and I managed to cross my legs. He then pushed hard with one and then the other of his legs, opening mine. I couldn't even think. I think I was in shock. I don't know what happened. I was trying to lift myself off, my arms was aching so much. He pressed his other arm onto my stomach and said, "stop moving so much". He took the button on my jeans off. I screamed again, saying, "please don't. I beg you, please don't. All he said was, "ok. If you beg me I won't" but he carried on. He moved his hand from between my legs, and carried on pressing him mouth on mine, grabbing and twisting my breasts with his other hand. I don't know what happened. I feel like I might have blacked out but I don't think I did because every time I replay it in my head, I knew what he was doing. I remember him murmuring, saying, "he doesn't deserve you, I'll take care of you...he doesn't love you, he hits you, he threatens you, he doesn't deserve you. Let me show you.." I remember thinking, that he must have done this because he thought I was easy. Because I had told him and his wife about what was going on in my marriage. I remember thinking how stupid I was. Then suddenly, he pushed between my legs with his hand. He still had not let go my arms, I said "please stop, I can't breathe." He didn't say anything, but he let go my arms, and really quickly pulled my jeans down with both hand, ripping my panties in the process. I screamed again and tried to get up. He pushed me back down and put his whole weight on me, saying "don't worry, I won't have sex with you because you begged me not to but I bet no one has done this for you in a long time right? Not years maybe right? " I couldn't answer, I was crying and crying. He started putting his fingers inside me and pulling in and out and I couldn't move. I think I went completely limp in shock. He slowly let go my arms again and slid down, pushing my legs apart even further with his head and he put his tongue inside. holding me down from my stomach with his forearm. He kept saying, "let me show you how you should be loved" I don't know why I couldn't fight back harder at this point. I tried so hard before, I just couldn't move. I tried to push him away, push his head away, but I couldn't. All I could do was cry...like I was pathetic and weak. I was so angry with myself for not leaving when I could, I was trying so hard to normalise the signs and then this is where it ended. He kept going, back up to my face and back down for almost an hour and a half I think and then it got worse. He pushed me to the ground, holding me by my hair and asked me to take him in my mouth. He said, "I want you to kneel, I want to watch you..." and I kept saying, "no no please no...and he pulled my head back, saying, don't bite...and stuck himself so far in, I gagged, over and over....he had his legs round my body now and I couldn't stand because my jeans were still near my ankles, he was holding my wrists with one hand and my hair in a tight pony tail at the back. I remember thinking he's going to pull my hair out. I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't get up, I couldn't do anything but keep doing what he was forcing me to do..and then he said, almost like it made it alright.. "don't worry I won't come in your mouth and pulled me back up just before. I just slid off him to the floor and he finally let go but I couldn't get up. I just curled up on the floor sobbing. I hand't even pulled my jeans back up. He finished and then carried me back on to his chest like he cared... started stroking me and saying, "why are you crying, you were amazing..stop crying, it's ok. Your friend will never know unless you tell her and you aren't going to tell her are you... this is our secret...what she doesn't know, won't hurt her.. she'll be fine...don't cry...you were great..I'll be back in July...Are you crying because it's me? It's better like this because we know each other..." he was stroking me and stroking my hair and holding me tightly like somehow, I had been complicit or as if I had said yes...I wanted to scream again, and hit out, now I could...but I couldn't do anything but cry. I let him hold me..I didn't push away..I couldn't. I felt so ashamed, so broken, so dirty and cheap. Then he said, I'm going to order an Uber for you, you can't go back in the train in this state. Go and clean yourself up.. and he pulled my jeans back up with my torn pants inside. He was laughing, saying, "gosh imagine if anyone saw you like this"...I coudn't do anything but just follow. it was like my mind was screaming but my body was just doing what it was told so I just followed him to the bathroom.. he left me there and all I could do was cry sitting on the toilet. I rubbed and rubbed myself with reams of toilet paper...and washed my face..and went back out. I look after two elderly relatives who think the world of him. I couldn't go back home and say anything to them. They are sick and elderly and they wouldn't really be able to comprehend what happened. My hands were shaking. I was shaking. I came out and he hugged me again tightly, saying calm down...you're fine. You're fine. I'll be back in July. Let's do this again. All I could do was shake my head. He kept laughing and then the Uber came. He even put me in and carried my bag in for me. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to calm myself enough to go home and then drive to pick my kids up and then I just washed and washed and washed in the bathroom, told my mum I had a headache and could she manage the kids and binned my clothes which still smelled of him and curled up in bed. The next morning, I got a text from him saying, "all ok?" and I just replied saying, "no..what were you thinking..." he called and told me not to make a big deal of things, that my life and his were more complicated than they needed to be already and to not make it worse, to not make a "thing" of what happened, that he had a lovely time...I hung up. I could not speak. He texted me saying, please don't tell anyone....this is our secret. I'll be back in July. I'll see you then.. I asked him why again, and he said I always liked you. I said but why would you do this. I said no...and he said it is only a little fun..I asked him if he had a bet with someone that he would do this and he said no..I said I feel cheap and horrible. You did this to me and he said, you don't need to, I forced you to.....I feel so horrible. I feel so dirty and used and cheap. I am so angry with myself for not leaving when I had the chance... I told another friend what happened. She wants me to go to police. I can't. It'll ruin his family, mine, his kids...and I love those kids like my own...my friend...I can't do that to anyone....but I can't function...I keep replaying it in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. My hands are shaking all the time...I can't focus. My other friend thought that perhaps writing my story might help. That is why I put so much detail. I am so sorry if it is too much. I wanted to write everything down...to get it all out...I've not told anyone all the details. I'm so sorry if it is too much.. She said it was ok to be angry but that is the other confusing thing...I am not angry...I feel nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. I am angry with myself but not anything else. I am so confused as to why he would do this after 20+ years of friendship. Why did he think it was ok? Do I look easy? By meeting him did I give him the impression it was ok? Why would he do this to me? We were friends..good friends..our families adore each other..why would he risk all that? What does he think of me now? I keep looking at myself and it is mad but I keep thinking, his wife is gorgeous and in great shape and I am flabby and haven't looked after myself at all...why would he do this with me when he has an amazing wife? I don't understand...I don't understand at all....I find myself repulsive...I used to look alright but my marriage has taken a toll...I no longer look anywhere close to what i did before...so why would he do this? And now when I feel like I've hit rock bottom in all aspects of my life...this happens.. If not for my kids..there would not be any point in my life...I'm so humiliated..

I met him when I was 4. We became friends quickly and so did our families ; my parents gave his family a voucher for him to join the same out of school sports group and it stayed like that for a good ten years . By this time we had gone to different secondary schools however we still saw each other at sports clubs once a week. Eventually we both quit and I began going to his house instead; soon we began dating. The communication between the two of us was terrible as expected at such a young age which led to lines being crossed. One of these lines was consent. I said no and expressed that I didn’t want to multiple times yet it was ignored and laughed off; he told me he wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t and even set a timer for how long it would last saying it would only be quick. I went home and cried . It wasn’t a cry I’d experienced before- it’s truly indescribable. Despite this I remained with him however tried my very best to avoid anything similar occurring again. This didn’t work as it occurred I’d estimate another 3 times. You’d maybe wonder why I stayed with him; the simple answer is that I liked him and couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me. We eventually broke up for somewhat unrelated reasons and two years on i’m still dealing with the sexual trauma. For a while I questioned whether I was asexual however I came to the conclusion I wasn’t and instead I am simply sexually repulsed. He was the first person I was with and it has completely ruined my view on sex and intimacy. If someone else with a similar experience is reading this I read some advice this morning which helped me: Rape is not a form of sex. It is a form of assault. Sex feels good. Assault is traumatising.

I must have been around 4/6 when my sister started to ask me for ‘massages’ all over her body. She is 10 years older than I am. It felt wrong at first but I remember her telling me it’s okay because it’s just skin. I don’t recall her ever touching me. She asked me for oral sex also and this was our game. But I feel so wrong looking back now because I even recall asking her to play this game just one more time. So is this my fault? It’s never been something I’ve let affect me however the last few years I’ve thought about this more. I am 21(F) now and realise that I was curious about sex from a very young age. Falling in love with a girl older than me at age 10 and always being attracted to those older than me, even if only a year older. I always wonder if I would be straight if I hadn’t had these young experiences.

I was hit as a child. I know what a reader of this post expects me to do next is add examples of what could be called ‘extreme’ violence or ‘abuse’. Most people do not equate a ‘pop’ or ‘whapp’ or ‘cuff’ or ‘slap’ or ‘spank’ with domestic violence. We should. For many of us, that first slap from a parent who believes they are committing an act of love...that they are teaching me...that the slap was a ‘consequence’ - was all we needed to find, amongst a definition of loving acts, an understanding of how a person learns, understanding of what is meant by the word ‘consequence’ is physical violence. A good many of us here were struck as children. A good many of those we identify as our assailants were hit as children. I was hit by my adult partner. Blood pouring out of my nose and onto the front of my shirt that third time motivated me to put my hand in the blood and rub it on the front of his shirt and , then, leave. THIRD TIME. We MUST stop accepting adult on child violence.

When I was 12, my ex situationship on his 13th birthday got his friend to rape me while he got off on it bc he didn’t want to do it with a virgin. he would then, months later continue to slam my head into walls, punch and hit me, and strangle me. said really horrible things. n yeah, i’m now 19 and at uni trying to be successful with good people in my life so healing is possible. it’s difficult and not linear but there’s so much more out there

I never knew a happy safe experience of intimate connection until i was 39. Well, I don't know if that is 100% accurate to say but it feels true to say. It was with a woman - a friend. We were pretty drunk and I was getting over my first relationship, one which had turned abusive, and she was maybe exploring her sexuality before committing to a life relationship with her partner. We were not alone - there was another friend also there - on the other side of her - a good guy, a very good friend of hers. Me and this guy friend did not gravitate towards each other though. She kissed my hair. I hadn't felt so loved or cared for in a long time. The grasping/rejecting/fearful dichotomy was gone and for the first time i sensed it didn't need to be that way. She seemed to want me to be close to her and i didn't feel pressure to be anyone or do anything other than what felt right in that moment. From that experience, i learnt that there is such generosity and healing in reciprocal loving touch. I guess i maybe felt that way occasionally with my ex-partner. But it's funny how when bad experiences happen between you and another person, it can rinse even the best memory and sensation with a dulling wash.

When I was 10, I went on a camping trip for my cousins 80th birthday. There were so many family members there and I remember it being freezing outside. I was in a camper with my dad on the pullout couch. My 40 year old cousin name in the back bedroom and his girlfriend was on the kitchen table that was made into a bed. I couldn’t sleep and my cousin name was up and he saw me shivering and told me to come to the back bedroom because it would be warmer there. I, of course, agreed because I felt safe with him and trusted him. Soon after laying down he started asking me if I was asleep. At first I responded, “No” but then I got tired of responding. Eventually he thought I was asleep and put his hand on my side before moving it under my sports bra. I remember this sports bra. It was a shitty Walmart shorts bra, grey in color, and it was one of the first bras I had ever worn. He turned me around and kissed me through my clenched teeth. I was begging to wake up from this nightmare. He stuck his hand down my pants. He got up and I remember hearing crinkling noise and looking back on it, he might have been opening a condom, but I didn’t know that. Once he got back into the bed, I pretended to wake up and got back on the couch with my dad. I remember laying there in shock with what just happened. I laid there eyes wide open and I couldn’t sleep. Eventually I told friends and family and I’m so thankful for how supportive they were of me.

I have lived through many battles, some visible and some invisible. Chronic pain has been a constant companion, and alongside it came experiences of assault, grief, bullying, and being overlooked or targeted in the workplace. Each of these left scars that ran deeper than I could admit at the time. For years, I tried to hold it all in — the pressure, the pain, the silence through alcohol and substances. But it built until I couldn’t contain it anymore, and I crashed hard. My mental health episode was frightening, for me and for those around me. What has made it harder is the culture I grew up in. In South Asian communities, mental health is often brushed aside, stigmatized, or seen as weakness. Instead of compassion, I felt shame. Instead of understanding, I carried guilt. I believed I had let down the people I loved most. But I am learning that what happened was not my fault. Trauma is not a choice. Crashes are not punishments. They are the body and mind crying out for care. I am still here. I am learning to see my sensitivity and survival not as flaws, but as proof of resilience. Sharing my story is part of releasing the shame and reclaiming my voice. My hope is that others who have lived through pain and silence — especially in communities where mental health is hidden — can know they are not alone. Our stories matter. Our survival matters.

when i was 5 my family came from Nigeria and as soon as they came my uncle which is just 4 years older than me kept touching me he would say things like lets play mums and dads and then will hump me and say that's what mum and dads do or will slap my bum and kiss on my neck it was quite odd to me everytime they visited this will happen he will say stuff to me like we play vampire game to rub on my private parts and kiss my neck and chest when I was 9 or 10 I travelled with them to another country but he just got worse he nearly even tried having s*x with me he would rub his penis on my private parts and kiss and slap my bum his sister who was younger than me also tried doing the same i recently found out she did it with my sister and cousin . this made me very hyper sexual at a young age and I would constantly use my body to get what I wanted it affects me a lot he texted me a few weeks ago and said he was a child and I should respect him because he's older than me and forgive and forget this is seriously ruining my life as my mum doesn't believe me and because I got caught doing things with my body she believes I initiated it or liked it...

No one should go through what I went through at the hands of my abuser. I found myself in a difficult situation after getting married to my ex-husband, who was and still is the title of one of the Magistrates Courts of that Country. I had a battered and traumatic experience all the 9 years of our marriage (experiences like having seven stitches done on my torn neck, being battered on a weekly basis with men’s leather belt and a big wooden cane made from tree he kept in his private room just for me; often times asked to go on my knees as an act of discipline or preparation to get beaten, internal bleeding, skin bruising, bleeding from my ears, noses, mouth; blows and punches to my face that spills blood from cuts) but because I loved him, his reputation, against the advice of many. I suffered in silence and lived in fear due to the threat to my life. The police failed me as they called him their boss. Escape! Say No More!!!

I knew the man that raped me, he is the father of my daughter which he also strangled. There are two sides to this man, one that's beautiful, loving and very calm and the other that is violent and manipulating. I was too scared to tell anyone because who would believe me. People that I thought were friends saw the smashed glass and the punches above my height on the door. They saw how unwell I became and that I attempted to take my life. It took me months after leaving to realise the extent of what we (me and my children) had experienced. But I left for my children because the truth was I still loved him, but the love for my children was bigger. Going through the courts dare I say is even harder to cope with than surviving the abuse itself. I have met so many amazing people and judges that have been hugely supportive, but sadly also so many corrupt people in that police reports and videos went missing, contact centres that lied which honestly I'm in such disbelief now and the shock itself made me ill. Judges and barristers know each other and gas lighting on a larger scale. I'm totally and utterly terrified and wish I never come forward. I am ashamed to say if I was a reader I would not believe this story. But it's my story to tell, that has imprisoned my life. I don't feel I can trust anyone because so many have lied without real heartfelt thought for my poor children. I'm so very tired of being scared. I'm not alone here in this country there are many of us silenced by the very people that ought to protect us. I desperately want to trust our family courts, but after reading about others going through what we have been through I feel scared about what will happen to my children as my punishment for coming forward. I have one child with this man but 4 children altogether. No one will really know what we survived only now to be at risk of having the remaining time of their childhood further stolen. How naïve I have been.

We were friends. That is what I told him when he tried to kiss me when I was drunk. He smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That is what I told him when I agreed to sleep off the alcohol at his as he insisted it wasn't safe for me to walk home. I felt a sense of relief and comfort when he smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That was what was running through my mind in those seconds that felt like hours when I slowly awoke to his hands down my pants and his soft moaning. We were friends. That was what I screamed as I ran out of his flat. We were friends. That is what I repeated to our social circle that relentlessly placed blame on me for being to 'flirty' or 'leading him on.' We were friends. The realisation that took time to reconcile and fully conceptualise. My perception of the world now shaded with nefarious hues. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I began to enjoy life again. A fleeting moment overshadowed by a watchful eye and a sense of alert that never really leaves me. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I took on the shame that wasn't mine to bear and made me doubt what I knew happened to me. We were friends. That is what I told people when I began to share my experience. Every word feeling like a toss of a stone I had carried around for far too long. We were friends. That is where I find my empowerment. The deepest violation of trust and respect, and yet, I survived.

I was around 14-15 I was assaulted by someone I know I was so scared for such a long time scared to share my story but now I’m ready He used to always make me feel really guilty for the things he did to me He used to touch me inappropriately he was older I thought I was to blame for a while I blamed myself for what happened but I realise now that I need to share my story to help others out there struggling I fell into unhealthy coping mechanisms everyone handles trauma differently but I found help and reached out to friends and family and shared it with them

It was my spiritual teacher. I loved him and trusted him more than anyone. Now I don't feel safe with my faith. My friends were in the spiritual community and ghosted me for seeking treatment. I don't feel safe to leave my room. I have constant panic attacks. I don't recognize life anymore.

Hello, My name is Name & I would like to share one of my poems to (hopefully) be read at Event😊 This poem is called "He Didn't Hit Me" and it is based on my own personal experience with an abusive relationship. I hope that anyone reading this poem & it resonates with them will take comfort in knowing that they are not alone ❤️ He Didn't Hit Me He didn't hit me, but his words cut like a knife, He didn't hit me, but he upended my life. He didn't hit me, but he made false accusations, He didn't hit me, but he had unreasonable expectations. He didn't hit me, but destroyed my hopes & dreams, He didn't hit me but ripped my confidence at the seams. He didn't hit me, but I always had to take the blame, For his shortcomings, moods & his manipulative game. Abuse isn't just physical, this I know to be true, Gaslighting & manipulation are powerful tools, Knowing I deserve better, I am finally free, For I am much more than what he tried to make of me.

You hear it all over the news. You see it in films and tv shows. As women, we are often warned, and we hear comments about ‘safety in numbers’ when you go to the toilet. ‘Watch your drinks’ when out and about. ‘Don’t show that much skin, cover up’. ‘You can’t wear that.’ ‘Get a taxi home, it’s not safe to walk’… unfortunately words can not protect you from the intentions of others. I went on a night out with friends, a reunion that started off so well. I remember the dancing, the constant flow of drinks…pints, gin, vodka, sambuca to name a few. Yes, it is not ideal to mix however, when you are reminiscing, and your group had a booth with a table full of drinks; you would probably do the same! Anyway, the lights flashed, the music bounced off the walls and suddenly a trip to the loo mixed with alcohol on a busy autumn international night in Location…makes you forget what floor you left your friends on. Fast forward to the smoking area alone on the phone, where I swayed and debated leaving. “A taxi home would be safer than walking in the rain”. Before I was allowed in, I had to pay by card, he insisted on no cash. I entered the taxi behind the passenger seat in the back and it began. The looks through the rear-view mirror were instant…my memory of the journey is absent until we reach my corner. My directions at this point were now ignored but I trusted him. He parked, away from my house. He locked the car with me still inside. He looked back. “Kiss me”. He had hold of my wrists and climbed through to the back where he began to sexually assault me. I am unsure for how long this lasted but he later broke away and asked to use my toilet. This enabled me to get out of the car so…I said yes. Why I ever thought I could get into my house first in a pair of heels whilst heavily intoxicated I do not know, but even so, I looked back to see how ahead I was…even now I can see him running down that pavement to reach me at my door. In my own home, he was in control. He stole my breath, he stole my voice, he stole my body. He raped me. No one ever prepares you for an event like that, or even how to tell your parents. I went to SARC, I did the forensics and repetitive questions, and I was told it would take years of my life away if I were to take it further. So, I went back to work the following Monday as I had a responsibility to fulfil. It weighed on my shoulders. I knew there was an expectation. Many google searches informed me of my next steps…I made an anonymous complaint to the Police, and everything began to move. Everything became intense…I was living out what felt like a BBC drama. Months later he denied it in court, so we went to trial. The support I received was minimal. I was still working, taking unpaid time off. My close family and friends were those who got me through the days in court, the days in-between and the days I live now. I took away the screen during my time on the stand, I answered every insulting question and remark. I looked him in the eyes, he held eye contact for only a few seconds before breaking into a smirk; as I broke down in the stand. I was torn to pieces in front of a judge, jury and courtroom. In front of him, who proceeded to spin his web of lies which were the complete opposite to the ones he had said in his initial statement. “To be a good liar, one needs a good memory” …He was found guilty. It took 2 weeks for me to be seen as a victim and believed. Fast forward to the sentencing hearing where my main pillars of support accompanied me…I read out my victim impact statement… He got 11 years…a minimum of 8 ½. I got a lifetime sentence, anxiety, depression, dissociation, insomnia, scars and PTSD. February 2024, 2 months after the 1st anniversary; I made my 3rd attempt. A phone call from a friend pulled me back to reality, who later pulled me off the bridge. A mixture of anger, tears and confusion filled the next couple of days, and I knew I needed to take back control of my mind and body. Which is hard when his monstrous hands are imprinted, his poisonous breath echoing in and flooding my ears and the pain weighing heavy on my body. This time I had to do something different. I could not bring myself to hurt anyone else further, so I searched online. I came across The Survivors Trust and after a quick scan through what they had to offer, I instantly thought ‘why wasn’t I told about this sooner?’. Talking can feel repetitive especially when you cannot explain how exactly you are feeling…which is ok in this sense because of their ‘Survivor Resources’. They echo that everyone has a different healing journey and they have sets of resources that have been put together with the survivor in mind…whilst also having a section for those who are looking for help on how to support a survivor they love in their lives. The Survivors Trust then became an outlet for me because even though I am very much at the beginning of my healing journey, I felt responsible and motivated to raise awareness for this charity. No one should ever have to face a traumatic event like this but sadly, the actions of others are something we cannot control. Therefore, I created a Facebook page called ‘Name’ and started promoting my quiz night followed by live music and started a Just Giving Page. I never anticipated a big response; I had a goal of £1000. A goal of raising awareness for the charity, fellow victims and survivors. A goal to inform. The CSEW estimated that 1.1 million adults aged 16 years and over experienced sexual assault in the year ending March 2022 (798,000 women and 275,000 men). 15% of girls and 5% of boys have experienced sexual violence by the time they are sixteen. Every five minutes in the UK someone experiences rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault by penetration. ‘On the face of it, something has to change’ (Prima Facie, 2022). Date he was sentenced. Date 2 I raised a total of Specific amount from site.. People have different opinions on the length of time to which I will be ‘fixed’. “Sometimes, it takes a few days”. A few days, a few weeks; a few months to fully grasp what happened, to trust myself? Living in and out of my own body, not knowing when it is truly me or what is now left. The sleepless nights, the nights that repeat every detail. Every once in a while, my ears go out, ringing as I simply stare into thin air, dissociating and remembering each and every detail without speaking a word. Sometimes it only takes a smell, a name, a piece of clothing, a sound to take me back to these moments. It does not take much to remind the brain of the agony. It’s hard. I float throughout each day, each night, as each aspect of the memory replays every time, I take a second to think…no matter where or who I am with. It is currently day 630…I have finally started EMDR therapy, I am still at times in denial of the events, and I am very much at the beginning of my journey. I am beginning to understand there is no timeframe on healing and with the support of this charity, my close family and name, taking time to self-care and keeping up with my medication is all I can do for now. Everyone is different. Therefore, it is totally natural to heal and deal with trauma in different ways. I work and like to keep busy…some say to avoid/escape the flashbacks but unfortunately, they do not escape me. However, although I have tried many times not to be…I am alive, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure things change. No one should live in the fear of not being believed. No one should be put into situations where they experience a type of sexual assault. No one should have to go through something they could not control and feel guilty for the rest of their lives. No one should feel alone. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel shame, guilt, embarrassment, regret and the list goes on but I will get there. I am alive today because of the resources and support presented on The Survivors Trust site. My journey is very much at the beginning, and I so wish I knew about this charity sooner. Therefore, this is me giving back as well as letting others know about the charity, not only the victims either…Survivors Trust helps everyone impacted. Raising Amountp is just the start of the work I will be doing for the charity. It is okay to talk, there are people who will believe, who will support in any way they can. Together we are stronger…you do not have to face this battle alone. I have recently continued to share my story and been a listening ear to others on my page Name on Instagram and Facebook. I don't want anyone to ever feel alone in their trauma, in their healing, in their journey. I am far beyond cured. My EMDR therapy has been completed but its like a bomb has gone off...I've accepted what has happened, happened. But it'll forever be part of who I am no matter how many steps forward I take. He gets out in 5 years and is then under watch for 3 years as he is eased back into society - that support has been planned for him. However, if I didn't attempt to take my life 5 times...I would never have been put forward for MH screening by my gp who then referred me for EMDR. I wasn't given any support from SARC or Victim Support - and it's honestly made me feel so defeated yet again by him. Yes, he was found guilty and went to prison in 2023 but I am the one serving the life sentence.

It took me years to come to terms with what was really happening. When I was 9 years old, I met a boy online, and we quickly became friends. We knew everything about each other - He was 15 when we first met. When I was 10 and he was 16, he asked to be my boyfriend. Being a naive 10 year old girl I said yes. I can’t be mad at her for that. It was innocent at first. Just what you’d expect from a childhood relationship - “I love you, goodnight.” “Hope you’re doing okay.” “Let’s play some games together!” The only difference was that one of us were nearly an adult. Someone who should have known better to not even THINK about being romantically involved with a 10 year old girl. However, it went sour. He started talking to me about sexual subjects. Stuff I wasn’t at all familiar with. He’d make us roleplay situations, what he’d do to me if he got ahold of me in real life. Asking for photos. Guilt tripping me for seeming “off” or uninterested. I began to feel distressed at the time, but I was so young, that wasn’t really an emotion I had felt before. I told myself, this sick feeling must be love. That must be why I feel so nervous, why I feel knots in my stomach when I see his name pop up on my screen. I was very attached to him, at least I thought I was. I was always picked on in school and the few friends I had were awful to me, so he was my only real friend. My worst fear was somehow losing him, and he must have known that I thought that. He took advantage of that, and would guilt trip me at any opportunity to make sure I did whatever he wanted me to. After a while, he broke up with me, but we were still very much so “friends”. We would talk everyday, and he was still just as inappropriate and creepy with me as he was before. Throughout the years, he would begin to talk to me about worse and worse stuff. He explicitly told me about his attraction to children, and that he worked as a teaching assistant in a primary school. I tried to brush it off and keep it at the back of my mind, but I got to tipping point last year when he started to pressure me into meeting with him in real life. It went on for 7 years. I hate to say it, and it makes me sad for the little girl that I was, but the rest of my childhood was stolen from me. I’m 17 now, about the same age he was when we met. The thought of EVER saying the stuff to a 10,11,12 year old that he did makes me feel physically ill. I still haven’t fully processed what happened to me, but I’ve been working on it. I’m yet to cry, at least properly, about it. The thing that sucks about this is that this went on for so long, that it felt completely normal. The people in my life who know all cried when I told them. It felt unfair, really - that they could cry about it. And I’m just stuck in a mindset I’m desperately trying to get out of where this is normal, and I feel completely numb. Recently, I decided I wanted to do something about it. I went to the police. This night, I sent off old screenshots of conversations between us to a detective working on my case. It’s terrifying, being that vulnerable. But I feel obligated to do it. The thought of him being around children all day makes me sick. I don’t care if he doesn’t go to prison - as long as he’s never near a child again I’ll be happy. That’s why I’m doing it. I won’t let shame and embarrassment stop me from doing this, and I especially won’t let my brain tell me he doesn’t deserve punishment. Because that’s exactly what he’d want me to think, too.

I met a guy online, we became close and after around a month of talking we met up for the first time. We talked for hours, had our first kiss, set boundaries (or so i thought). For example, one of my main ones is i struggle with sexual stuff due to being assaulted on a bus when i was 14. As time went in i noticed the only time he’d have a full conversation with me was when it was based on sex. I met up with him a second time and he was touching me in specific places and i froze. Inside, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. But i couldn’t say no. I couldn’t move to get away. I told myself i was being dramatic and ignored how gross i felt when i went home. The third time, it happened again, this time i had tears rolling down my cheek, i was frozen, tense. After a few minutes he stopped and smirked, saying “you’re so tense.” He laughed. Again, i ignored the whole thing and said i was being dramatic. New years, i stayed at his. I woke up to his hand in my shorts. I pretended to be asleep, again, i couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. But i was frozen. I came home and haven’t spoken about it until today, as i’m writing this, i spoke to my best friends and they said it is assault. I feel so dirty.

Dedication: To all of the women and children that are fighting domestic abuse. I witnessed domestic violence between my mother and her boyfriend every day from the age of 6 up until the age of 11. I witnessed brutal attacks, one time my mother actually stopped breathing. He was a very jealous man. He wanted me out the way as much as possible. He even resorted to breaking my dogs leg in a fit of rage. My mother became a victim of ‘cuckooing’ by a local gang and was introduced to drugs. Her boyfriend stole from them and my mother was kidnapped. We both had to go into protective living. I stayed with my nan for 2 months not knowing where my mother was or even if she was alive. The gang found my mothers boyfriend and beat him to an inch of his life. My mother was later given an ultimatum; Him or me. She chose me. After us he moved on to another family. Unfortunately those children weren’t so lucky. They all got split up by the care system. It has not been until these past couple of months that I have learned to accept what happened. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Confusion, anger and tears. I had to say goodbye to the innocent little girl that was once me. At a crucial time when my child brain was meant to be developing and understanding the world, I had to skip that part completely. I was quickly brought into an adults world. After it all ended I had to build a whole new foundation and create a whole new person. It was almost like Norma Jean transforming into Marilyn Monroe or Beyonce becoming her alter ego Sasha Fierce. Before this, I had no identity. At the age of 6 I was just starting to find my place in the world which was then quickly taken from me. It wouldn’t be until I was 17 that I would have to come face to face with my mothers abuser again. She came home one night in a complete drunken state with him in tow. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him that I was 17 not 7 anymore and I was not afraid of him and he couldn’t hurt us anymore. The police ended up escorting him away. My mother was always encouraging of me and always told me she believed in me and to believe in myself. That I am so grateful for. I am so grateful for life. Every day I would wake up and wonder if that day would be the day I died. I think the way I got through it was fight or flight. My body chose fight. I had a best friend at the time who I am still best friends with to this day. Her mother was also tackling her own demons at home, so our friendship grew closer. My mother ended up having a hard time coming to terms with dealing with what happened. She is unfortunately a shell of person he once was. The song by Jessie J – I Miss Her sums it up perfectly. She is still breathing but she is not really living.