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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.

I didn't realise until over a year after the separation that the relationship I had been in for almost a decade was abusive. I was confused, I was lost, I doubted every thought and memory I had because that's what I'd been conditioned to do. He used to tell me I had a bad memory, that I remembered the incident wrongly; he would start an argument in the car on the way to what was supposed to be a pleasant gathering with friends; he would criticise me all the time and when I finally snapped and shouted at him to stop criticising, he said I was crazy. He didn't let me sleep a full night for 4 years after our baby was born, I was exhausted, I was extremely anxious about everything. I was in fight or flight mode all the time. The last straw was him shouting at our child all the time because he made a noise, because he made a mess, because of something. I know all this now, but I didn't understand what was happening at the time. I will still second guess myself if anyone vaguely questions my choice or my decision. I was strong before and I lost my voice. I'm fighting hard to get it back but post separation abuse is real and it's difficult when someone is constantly trying to invalidate you and dismiss your concerns. No more. We have to talk about it, join together and eradicate a permissiveness that allows victims to be suppressed and perpetrators to continue unchecked.

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.

Ten days after my daughterX discharge from the hospital, where she had undergone brain surgeries for epilepsy, X was resting in her bedroom and my ex-husband asked me to help him buy something online. I said no (very unusual but I was fixing something for X. to eat) and he exploded, throwing hot coffee on me then trashing the kitchen. And for the first time, a light bulb went on in my mind. The light said, "This is going to stop." Once he saw that something fundamental had changed inside me - that I was indeed serious - he escalated his tactics week by week. We had been married for almost 20 years, and he was absolutely incredulous that I was leaving him. All he knew how to do in response was more assault, more threats, more stalking, more financial theft. He was out of his mind. At one point he stood on the steps outside our house screaming "Why didn't you abort the kids?" over and over. For about 6-8 months I'm pretty sure he was considering doing a murder/suicide. I had to leave everything behind to get away - the home, friends, my job. I sold everything of value that I owned. Since I had grown up in a home of domestic violence, I didn't understand it very well, even as I was being victimized. I didn't know that shoving someone, kicking someone, and throwing objects or hot liquid at someone are all against the law. I didn't know that insults, name-calling, and coercive sex aren't part of normal relationships. I didn't know how dishonest my ex-husband was (and is).

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 am female and I was sexually assaulted by a female friend when we were 9 years old. I want to share this because I cannot seem to find another story on female on female COCSA and it makes me feel like what happened to me wasn't "bad enough" because it was a girl and it was another child my age. I know that thought isn't true but it has taken me a while to realise what happened was assault and was "bad enough" and I think it would have helped if I had heard stories similar to mine, so I am hoping this could help someone who has been in the same situation as me. It happened when I was around 8 or 9 years old. I don't remember everything from start to finish or how many times it happened but then other parts of it (like surroundings and smells) are so vivid. I will just share what I remember. I don't know what led up to this point but the the first memory I have is just me laying on my back on my bed and she was on top of me pinning me down and I was scared and trying to wriggle away and get her off me. I remember the smirk on her face, it's like she found it funny and she was enjoying watching me squirm. I remember trying to hard to get her off me but at the same time not wanting to hurt her because she was my friend. So I wasn't hitting or being aggressive I was just trying to wriggle out from under her while she was sat on top of me on my stomach/chest. This friend was a nice friend who was not aggressive or nasty so I think this is what made it all even more confusing. I don't even think she knows she did something wrong? I have no idea. I feel so embarrassed to say the following but I am going to do it because its anonymous and it could maybe help someone feel better about what happened to them. I remember her pulling down her trousers while still straddling/hovering over me. As soon she she did this I was TERRYFIED. I was so scared. Next thing I remember is her bum coming towards me and sitting on my face. I feel so embarrassed saying this, it sounds so stupid but it was so scary and I didn't want it. The next thing I remember is her above me again and facing me (trousers were still down) with her vagina out for me to see and near my face. I remember her touching her vagina with her fingers and then trying to touch my mouth with her fingers/put her fingers in my mouth. I was so so so scared and doing everything I could to move my head away and make sure her fingers didn't touch me. I remember the smell of her vagina and I have imagine of it close to my face but I can't remember if it touched my face. I was so scared. I remember feeling so confused and also terrified my mum was going to walk in. I knew what was happening wasn't right. I don't remember much else except from those two flash backs and then I remember pretending to go to sleep after in a different bed. I don't know why I didn't hit her to get her off me or scream for my mum to hear, I don't know why i felt scared that my mum was going to come in, as is I was the one doing something wrong? I liked this friend, she was nice and not a bully so i think it made it more confusing because I didn't want to be mean or hurt her or anyone to think badly of her. Another memory I have after that is having a sleepover round her house and I just remember feeling uncomfortable and I remember she was wearing a night-dress with no underwear and we had to share a bed and I felt so uncomfortable and I didn't want to be close to her in bed. I have icky feeling about that night but I can't remember if anything happened. I am now 24 years old and finally now only realising that what happened to me was COCSA and realising how much it has effected me. I have suffered with depression for years and been on medication for the last 8 years. I've always wondered why my depression wouldn't go away. I have no reason to be sad, I have a good family, lots of friends, a job, a great boyfriend... yet I can't seem to shake the depression off. I have repressed the memories of what happened that day for 11 years and I have no idea why it has all come up to the front of my mind now but I now just can't seem to ignore it. It's all I've though about for 2 weeks and I can't believe its taken me this long to realise what happened and to realise that that situation has cause so many issue in my life. I was such a happy child and I was so innocent. She exposed me to things I didn't know about and shouldn't have known about. I was too young. It left me confused and ashamed. I then have memories of me masturbating and watching porn and even one time I showed another friend porn. I feel awful that I showed someone else my age porn when we were so young. None of us should have been exposed to that. I even feel sorry for the girl who assaulted me because I can't help but think she must have been getting abused herself because why else would she know the things she was doing? I don't hold any anger towards her because I don't think she meant to cause this harm to me. For years I have felt great shame. I have questioned my own sexuality for years because of it. I have questioned if I enjoyed it? I have had so many confusing feelings about it. I have tried to hard to forget about it and have managed to go years at a time without the memory resurfacing. I have felt so much hatred and shame towards myself. I haven't been able to pin-point why I felt that way until now that these memories have come back. I told my boyfriend but he didn't deal with it well. He cried, which made me feel worse about what happened. I feel the urge to speak to someone about it because I can't stop thinking about what happened. It makes me feel anxious like I'm going to have a panic attack. It feels like its so close to coming out of my mouth and I just NEED to tell someone. I want to tell my mum or sister but I am so scared they are going to judge me. I'm scared they will think I'm weird. Or that it's not a big deal. I don't think I actually could let the words come out of my mouth to tell my family. When I reflect my teenage/adult years, a lot more things make sense. My depression, self-loathing, shame, low self-esteem.. all makes more sense. I have been a people pleaser my whole life and have been awful at setting boundaries for myself. I have continuously let friends, boyfriends and people in power cross my boundaries. I feel like I haven't respected myself very much in some ways and I regret not sticking up for myself when I have been in uncomfortable situations. 1st example: When I was 17, my driving instructor (who was in his 40's or 50's, married and had a daughter my age) made a few inappropriate comments. One of those being about me giving him a blow job and another time about me kissing me. Which I awkwardly laughed and didn't say anything to which he seemed offended and then said "I'll take that as a no then". I still didn't say anything and just felt awkward and changed subject. I continued to have lessons with him. I should have told him he's a disgusting pervert and never got back in his car again. But I felt bad and didn't want to upset him. My brother also has the same driving instructor and really liked him and I didn't want to cause any issue or for people to think badly of the instructor. 2nd example: When I was 12 or 13, I sat next to a boy in English class. He put his had on my thigh. I told him no and pulled his hand away. He kept trying to do it again and I kept saying no and pulling his hand away. I was not sexually active yet, nor did I want to be and I didn't even fancy this boy. I thought he was disgusting. He didn't stop and ending up touching me through my knickers. I remember being scared and uncomfortable. I didn't want him to do it but I didn't want to get him in trouble or draw attention to it. I was scared the teacher would see and we would maybe both be in trouble. I can't remember how it ended but I think eventually he took no for an answer. Once again, I now regret not shouting "what are you doing? get off me!" I don't understand why i was so scared about making other people upset or making other look bad? I was choosing that over my own comfort/boundaries. 3rd example: From ages 18-21, I was in an emotionally abusive relationship (which also got physical on a few occasions). I let that boyfriend strip me of any self- confidence I had left. He constantly belittled me, made me question my own experiences, gas-lit me, scared me, pushed me to the ground/off the bed when he was angry, smash things around me when he was angry, tell me I'm dumb, disgusting, embarrassing, pathetic. I was so manipulated by him, I was just the shell of my former self by the end of that relationship. When I look back at the relationship, I realise how much it affected me and also how wrong some things were (including sexual things). After a couple of years in the relationship, I didn't often want to be sexual with him because he was horrible to me and made me feel like sh*t and I started to resent him eventually. I would never kiss him or go near him sexually. He would sometimes be nice to me and It was great and I felt loved and then we would have sex and INSTANTLY after he would stop making any effort or being affectionate to me at all. As soon as he got what he wanted he would just switch back to how he normally was. Towards the end of the relationship shit, when we would have sex, I was just doing it because he wanted to do it not because I wanted to. I would just lay there and hope he would hurry up and finish. I could tell he didn't care about me or my pleasure either. He would just f*ck me like a object until he was finished. It was all for him, not me. To add to that, most of these encounters were after he had convinced/persuaded me to have sex after I said I wasn't in the mood for sex. On several occasions he asked me to perform oral on him and I told him I didn't want to. He wouldn't stop asking until I gave in. He would beg for it until I caved and did it. He even offered to take me for dinner or give me money if I did it (which I obviously declined). It just shows how little respect he had for me, my own boyfriend of 3 years was trying to bribe me into sexual favours when he knows I didn't want to do it. I remember multiple times after he kept going on and on trying to persuade me to give him oral, I would finally say "okay fine but just so you know, I don't want to do it so it won't be very good/it probably won't be very enjoyable" and he still wanted me to do it. I'm literally saying I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS and he still didn't care, he just wanted what he wanted. I feel as though I am getting better at boundaries and I think I am ready to go to therapy about what happened when I was 9 and my last relationship. I can't help by think what happened when I was 9 is the reason for why I am how I am. I never understood why I was so depressed. None of my family or friends could understand why because in there eyes "I had it all" and had a great life. I also think what happened when I was 9 is the reason why I ended up in an abusive relationship and ended up being such a people pleaser and not being good at setting boundaries and just letting people disrespect me. I really hope one day I can live a happy life. I hope sharing this helps someone else who experience COCSA and/or female on female sexual assault, realise it is just as wrong and just as valid.

I was 9 when it started. I mean it really started. There was a boy in my class who openly liked me. It didn’t bother me too much, except when he’s chase me around the field telling me he was in love with me. We were 7. It was ‘how kids were’ said my school when I said I wanted him to stop. But then later on in the years he got obsessed. Taking photos of me around school. Following me home. Getting in calls with me online (we were somewhat friends) and asking me to take my shirt off. Asking me to take my clothes off so he could screenshot. We were 9. It’s just how kids are? Right? Well that’s what I told myself. And still do. Then he got aggressive, telling his friends about how ‘sexy I was’ I didn’t know what sexy meant until he told me: “it means I want to take your clothes off and feel you” I remember his words so clearly. After that his friends got weird around me too. Especially another boy. I always thought we were friends until a girl ran up to me at break saying “—— HAD A DREAM ABOUT YOU” I didn’t know what she meant until the boy whispered in my ear how he dreamt of me giving him a blow job. That’s the day when I found out what blow jobs were. 9 fucking years old. He told me in detail and I sat there and cried. I wanted to run away. I wanted to scream. But I froze. Instead I fucking froze. I hate myself for it. But I know it’s ‘normal’. The main boy started to grow more and more aggressive. Grabbing my arm, hugging me and never letting go. And more and more pictures. More following home. More standing outside my house pretending to read when he watched me get changed. But for some reason i forgot to shut my curtains. Why? Did I like him? Was it all my fault? Did I tempt him? Those are questions I ask myself every day. He did bad things to me. Until I left primary school. Free. I was away from that horrible boy. And then we had a school reunion last year. I’m not going into detail. Mainly because I can’t I just can’t. He didn’t rape me. But he made bleed in the wrong place. He groped my chest. I still have a scar. And the at was the last time I saw him. I hate him. I pity him. I love him. No I don’t. I don’t. What if i did? What if it’s all my fault? Fuck, did I want him to do those things! I was only 12! I was only 9! and I had no one. no one helped me. No one saved me from that nightmare. I still look back on my younger self. My memory is hazy. Traumatic response my therapist says. But what if it never happened. Am I just like those people I see on the internet who lie about SA? I don’t want to be. They make me so angry. I still am not okay. No one sees me. I hate him. I hate all the people who made people suffer like I have. If you experienced COCSA I’m so sorry. I love you. You are more than them. You are braze and special. And I love you. Stay fucking safe.

*TRIGGER WARNING IN ADVANCE* So, it all began when I was like 5 or 6 and ended when I was around 10 or 11. I think. My own grandad was sexually abusing me. I couldn’t tell you all the events in chronological order because I can’t remember every single time or what order they went in. I can just share the types of things that would be done. When I would stay at my grandparents house, my grandad would read a bedtime story every night. However, it wasn’t just a bedtime story… no… it would end up with him holding my hand through a hole in his pocket making me touch his penis. Sometimes I’d be asleep and he’d come upstairs and rub his penis on my body and pull up my top and lick my nipples. I used to love insects as a child so his excuse was that his penis was a glow worm called Name and “Name would want a tickle”… he would draw bizarre pictures of different sexual poses and say that those would help with a spell because I was into magic… he would buy me things all the time like a phone, credit for my phone, an Xbox but this wasn’t on birthdays or Christmas this was just random and my brother wouldn’t get anything other than birthday and Christmas presents… I used to do acting and I loved it, he then made a script about a girl called poppy longstockings and bought a whole outfit for me to dress up in and gave me a script and I had to act out and let’s say the costume was certainly not PG… He would always try and do anal on me and I mean always… in his shed, at his work (which he was like a handyman and he’d work on student flats and stuff) I’d go on jobs with him sometimes. Listen. I was young I didn’t understand what was happening was wrong. Anyway… Let’s get to where it all got found out… When I was around 11 I told my friend that I thought what he was doing was wrong and that’s when it all stopped was when I realised or learned that it was wrong. Didn’t tell anybody else. Years later in secondary school me and my friend were in a lesson together and somehow it came up in conversation and someone overheard and then they went and told someone, then that person told someone, then so on… the whole year knew… I didn’t know everyone knew until I was sat next to my other friend who didn’t know and he texted me saying I know what your grandad did and I just bursted out crying… anyway I got taken out and a teacher spoke to me so I told her and that’s when I had to speak to the police… the weekend went by and I had to pretend everything was fine to my mum, dad and brother because they had no clue about anything… Monday came around and I get a knock on my class, it’s my brother asking to see me, we stand in the hall and he just hugs me and starts crying so then I start crying. Anyway, end up going home and my mum gives me a hug and then my dad comes home and gives me a hug and we’ve never been closer as a family…. Then comes court… What a horrible horrible experience…. But it was absolutely worth it! To see him go down for 15 years for what he did to me (wasn’t enough in my opinion but still better than nothing and I’m very grateful for that)… t This is not the end of my story but my entire mood has changed since the beginning of writing so I’m going to take a little break:) lots of love <3 x

I will not longer live in fear for my self and my sons life. I will no longer be told how ugly and fat I am. I will no longer have him put his hands on me. I will no longer allow bruises on my face. I will no longer let this happen to someone else. I was in a situation where I couldn't leave for a long time and couldn't ask for help. The most fear I have ever been in in my life. But I have a 3-year-old son and NO ONE will ever hurt him the way they hurt me. I am putting a stop to being the victim and taking back control in my own life. One thing that I learned that is the most important to me... Is that you're never alone, and you are beautiful!

I was only 15. I convince myself it was my fault for not speaking up or saying no more clearly. For just freezing up and letting it happen. I wish I didn’t feel this pain. The flashbacks and feeling the crawl under my skin. I cant enjoy the beach anymore. I get scared if someone tries to grab or hold my wrist. The certain way water touches my skin makes me sick and relive. I cant wear certain clothes anymore. All I want is to heal. To come to some sort of peace with this. I’ve only just started to speak out about my rape after 2 years and I’m glad I have, but it’s still so overwhelming.

I was 16 I just started college when I met my ex he was 17 We talked for a week and then started dating he would manipulate me in to doing things and tell he things and gaslighted me And he would SA me every time I saw him Multiple times I dated him for almost 4 months when I broke up with him On the Date I when to is house and he SA I took my phone from me and when I went to get it he would pull me , drag me and push me away from it buy my arms and legs I broke up with him 2 day later This was almost 2 years old I reported it to the police He also SA 2 other people in the same class Who also reported him

8M (me) 11F (cousin) 12M (cousin) were at a family function just playing house (it just dawned on me that 11-12 year olds don't play house and that the only reason we played house was for this) until it was night time in which we all got in the bed I lied at the bottom of their feet as their child as they had sex in front of me not even .5 foot away from me I just hid in fear 10M 13F 14M my older cousin led us into the woods and told my female cousin to strip she complied and then they started going at it with each other I just stood silently observing this horrible sight; seeing my female cousin in such a way felt so wrong to me my cousin then asked me to join him and I did, I was clueless just stood their as it happened; biggest regret of my life this one mistake started a snowball effect that still haunts me 12M 15F 16M yet another family function my cousins were drinking this time and came up to me hammered and asking me to come upstairs we end up smoking weed and my older cousin starts to tease my female cousin; by this time this ordeal had happened at pretty much every meeting of us I had even started pleasuring myself watching them (I never got involved because I wanted to keep myself) this time however my older cousin has fallen into a drunk slumber and my female cousin was already "ignited" she came up to me and said "lucky for you ive been ignited and all I need is for someone to come diminish me" (I remember those words 1:1) my female cousin then took my purity from me, I didn't even try to fight her or try to ask her to stop I was telling myself I didn't want to yet I pleaded for her to help me I still don't have it wrapped in my head if I was a victim or if I was just as predatory as them, I know that my older cousin started manipulating my female cousin and I didn't stop him because I enjoyed it, yet again I was 10 years old I couldn't grasp the gravity and severity of what we were doing I even viewed it as just complimentary and normal and that we were just helping each other, but the other part of me hates me for it.

For like three years I’ve been picked on at school but in a weird way. This group of guys would shove each other into me saying things like ‘I know u want it’ two of them would take this as an excuse to touch me, then when I got moved next to one of them in maths it just got worse and he started threatening to r@pe me. There was also a situation in pe when one of them threw a ball at my bum then laughed about it with his friends. When I told the school they got them to stop talking to me but it doesn’t seem as tho they care. Now I cant focus properly in any of my lessons

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.

This story, my story, started 25 or 24 years ago, when I was 7 or 8 years of age. I was sexually abused (once only but enough to make an impact) by my dad, the first person that's meant to protect you. I never told a soul about it, no one but myself knew it during those 25 years, and even I did not want to think about it. As the years went I learnt to put it at the back of my mind, it was to painful, disgusting and worst of all, I was ashamed, ashamed for something I didn't do, but something that someone too close to me did instead. I learnt to push back if that memory ever came back to me. I grew (somehow) very closed to my dad, and pretended that never happened; only last year I learnt that very action has a name, and it's called compartimentalising. It was only last year, when I started to have issues with anxiety to another level that I finally, when I was about to have a nervous break down, decided that it was time to say it out loud. Weirdly enough, I never had considered myself a victim of sexual abuse... and the words 'sexual abuse' were really difficult for me to mention when talking about what happened to me, although, over time I grew used them and more comfortable (it still hurts though). I was on therapy for over 10 months, followed by a 3 months of CTB course, I still have catch up calls with my therapist every now and then. The worst part of my therapy was, what my own body needed, and that was to seek my dad's accountability, the one which, after confronting him, still hasn't acknowledge, and let's be honest, he won't ever do it. But I learnt to move on not expecting that to happened and at least, my dad knows the big impact that one action that happened that one time, has badly affected my throughout these past years, and my present. I discovered that most people that has suffered this type of abuse tend to develop any sort of chronic pain condition, which I did at the age of 13, mostly from what it felt like, was eating me alive from the inside of my body. Discovering the condition I have had for more than half of my life, is there because of my dad, was no easy discovery and that's where the panic attacks started. As you can imagine, and like all of you, it's been a long healing process. My 4 most important things that really helped me through my healing process (unfinished healing process) were: - My support network (my friends as family only found out after and they still don't know who did it). - Exercising, the best thing I have done for my mental health. - An incredible manager at work who supported me throughout my journey - And (unfortunately) antidepressants to manage better anxiety, as it got really bad at some points. I know, my healing isn't over, I know I might never get what I really want which is that accountability, but at least I know that what ever I decide to do, I'm now (mostly) in control, not my dad or my fears. We all still have bad days, but at least now I know, I'm not alone.

I was 18 and had gone back to a friend of an old friend of mine's house. I was there with him (H), his friend (J - who's house it was) my closest female friend (E) and a few others. We drank a lot and we ended up playing strip poker. I didn't feel totally comfortable with it at the time but wanted to join in. As we were playing, it became my turn to take my top off, so I did. I went to the toilet but wasn't sure where to go in this house I wasn't familiar with. J offered to show me to the toilet and I accepted. He kissed me on the way there and picked me up and took me to his bedroom. I didn't mind, and then it got a bit intense and I stopped feeling okay with it. I was hoping my friend (E) would notice I was missing. He tried to have sex with me and I kept refusing, eventually, I just let it happen. I heard E shouting up to me from downstairs and J got angry, he stopped and told me to go downstairs. It was 4:30am and he threw us out of his house in the thick snow. I remember how cold the walk was. I felt so vulnerable, drunk and scared in that moment. There was only one person we felt we could call and that was a drug dealer we had known, he was a man other men were wary of so we thought he would be the safest option (looking back, I have 0 idea why we thought that was a good idea). The next morning I told my friend E what had happened, J was someone she knew fairly well and she was disgusted when I told her. She phoned him straight away and he denied everything, said I was lying. I'll never forget that instant wave of doubt. Was I lying? Had I led him on? Was it my fault for playing strip poker with everybody? 5 years later and I still doubt my memory, doubt whether I was raped or not. Rape. It's such a strong word isn't it?

I've suffered sexual, physical and emotional abuse in not one but two relationships in my life.......It began back in Date I'd come out of a long-term relationship of 5yrs and probably on the rebound (although I didn't think that at the time as a tender 23yr old) met a guy in our local pub. He seemed nice enough and we entered into a relationship. Soon though the signs appeared, gaslighting, name calling, eroding my self-esteem. I stupidly ignored the signs and continued in the relationship, even marrying him! The night before we were due to be married I was in floods of tears but his sister said it was probably just pre-wedding nerves (no-one knew how I was suffering at his hands) I should've called it off, kicked him out of MY house and got on my life, but you become so embroiled in everything, and it becomes 'normal' to feel scared, anxious and dependant on this person, totally alienated from friends, family and anyone who wasn't 'him'. I was controlled monetarily, emotionally in every aspect of my life, how I dressed, where I went, how much money I spent and became increasingly isolated and DEPENDANT on him! I was working a full time job earning more than him, but couldn't spend a penny without checking with him first, and I stupidly went along with it. I received phone calls and text pretty much all the time checking where I was, with whom, what I was doing, I was CONTROLLED. The abuse happened regularly emotional, physical, mental and financial but I was so scared and lost......I FEARED him and became like a cornered animal with nowhere to turn. When our daughter turned 2 I finally realised that I had to get out, I didn't want her to think this was what a relationship looked like. That was the hardest decision I've ever made in my life! After 9yrs I was free, but was I? No, the emotional scars ran very deep and I was a shadow of the person I once was, I was petrified of everything, but I had a child who relied on me. I bought my own house, divorced him and tried to adapt to my new life............ Fast forward to the end of another failed marriage nearly a decade ago, I'm in my late 40's by now, own my own home, work, own a car etc, but sadly lacking in friends I'd lost them all years before and the few remaining were all married so I joined a dating website and matched with a man who I'd known years ago as a teenager. We started a relationship. This man stripped away everything I'd rebuilt, he tormented me, followed me, abused me, he'd turn up in supermarkets when I was shopping. I'd entered into another nightmare situation, but occasionally I fought back, literally!! I'd stupidly given him a key to my house, and if I tried to end things he'd let himself in, hound me with phone calls, flowers, the usual tactics abusers turn to. I couldn't even look out of the car windows on journeys as I'd be accused of 'looking' at men! One night though, he thought he'd killed me, he pushed me on a night out and my head hit the pavement hard, I was so dazed I laid there, not sure whether I lost consciousness We spent 10 months together, and then he collapsed and died on my bedroom floor at 50yrs old, and God forgive me, but I was free! He wouldn't ever harass me again, he was gone............And this time I was free, totally free. And that is my story, without the hideous details of the level of abuse I suffered as no-one needs to read all the details, it triggers me even now thinking back, but I survived, I'm still recovering and always will be, but I'm now 55, married to the love of my life, my soulmate, my safe place.

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...

This guy was my best friend. He knew everything I was dealing with. He was the reason I got out of the abusive place I was in. Less than 2 weeks after I got out of that abusive place, he raped me when I needed a safe place to stay. I had trusted him so much with absolutely everything and he not only violated me, but my trust aswell. He then text me the day after telling me not to tell anyone what happened. But I didn't remember anything about what happened until 5 days after it happened. He denied and denied and denied when I confronted him until eventually he admitted to what he did. Its been numberyears and I still can't walk around my hometown alone anymore out of fear, I can't hear his name or see anything remotely near to what he was wearing or I was wearing. But I'm in therapy now and it's making me realise so much. I'm working on trusting the world again. I didn't deserve it. No one does. As difficult and painful it is to deal with something like this, we can all survive. We can get through it. Someone wants to listen to your story. Someone wants to help. Don't deal with it alone xx

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.