By Anonymous Contributor

I am not the same anymore. I am not comfortable in my own body. What you did to me was disgusting, and somehow you seemed to think that it’s ok to touch someone without asking them? You have wrecked my relationship with my partner. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I am annoyed that I just froze. I wish that I’d got up and started beating you up. I feel sick everyday, I barely eat. I want to be able to be intimate with my partner and I can’t because I have flashbacks. The police said there wasn’t enough evidence and you claimed that I consented. You obviously have no clue what consent is or what it means. I said no to you, but you ignored me. I can’t cope.

Anonymous Contributor

Dear my current self,

Firstly, it was not your fault and he was 100% to blame for what happened. Stop blaming yourself for trusting him, you had a right to trust him. Secondly, remember that you are very strong. You have got through previous traumas with the help of therapy, and no matter how hard it has been you have battled bipolar disorder. You can get through the aftermath of rape and get your life back. You will be more confident again, be happy and alive again. The days are already much better in general but just keep on going even when sometimes something knocks you back and you despair that you will never be okay again. You will be okay again.

Anonymous Contributor

I know it wasn’t my fault and that the perpetrator is always to blame and yet I feel guilty about what happened.

I feel like I should have seen it coming. Looking back it seems obvious he was going to rape me and I could have stopped it. I don’t blame myself for undressing, or dating the man as others have, but I feel I blame myself for trusting him and going back to his house on the first date instead of being more cautious.

I know that it wasn’t my fault, and it was 100% his fault, but after being blamed by so many people and living in a society where victims are constantly blamed I find myself subconsciously feeling guilty.

By Han W. 

I am not the one to blame for my rape in 2009 and I need to remember that. The stranger was clever in the way he made me think it was my fault and the texts afterwards, and a year later, made it seem like he was not in the wrong. He was powerful and that attack has stayed with me. I wonder if it affects him?! I blocked it out, did not dare tell many people. Then years later I develop seizures from the trauma, my body and brain telling me I cannot be in control of this. I need to deal with it. I have had to quit my teaching job, get therapy and tell people close to me. I am mentally ill and pysically exhausted from the non-epileptic seizures. This is effecting not only me but my family. I am angry. I have understood a lot more about assault and the effects of it over the last year and it is never the victims fault. I blamed myself for going to his room but I never wanted sex, I was crying and screaming and he never stopped or was concerned. He knew what he was doing that October night. Luckily I did not catch an STI and had to take the morning after pill to prevent pregnancy. I have told the police six years on. They have been so supportive and helpful. Victim support have been great in providing me with an alarm and helping me apply for compensation due to loss of earnings. I hope we catch you, but I am not alone with this anymore and you are not going to make me suffer.

By Beatrix Mortimer

This is letter written to you. I didn’t know anything about you until 2 days ago when someone flippantly told me your surname, like I should’ve known it. In the same way you probably don’t see me as a real person, I hadn’t seen you as a real person. You were a darkness to me. A darkness with eyes is all I see. It was easier to imagine you like that because I want to have faith in men. I want to believe that they are not capable of taking such advantage of a woman in possibly the most vulnerable position they can be. I did not want you there, I told you to leave, to go away. But all you saw was an object and that object happened to be a real person with a life, with a boyfriend, with a family and with a lot more to give. So I am writing this to make you understand that I am a person.

All women are people with decisions and thoughts and objectives. You took advantage of that and used your strength to overpower me. I thought I was strong, physically and mentally. You have made me stronger, physically and mentally. I know that I can fight now and survive. Yet at the same time I’m not strong. You have taken over my life. I may still be fighting but you have chipped something away which I may never get back. I want to be able to breathe again, I don’t want to wallow in self pity anymore, I don’t want to feel different from my friends anymore, like the distance I feel because they can never understand fully what I went through.

I guess then strength isn’t always the best. I want people to understand, I want them to see my pain, to create awareness. I don’t want people to hear my story and immediately say ‘well you should not have gone to the toilet then’ and ‘why didn’t you fight back’. But then I feel empowered. Those people that are quick to judge empower me because then I feel strong and I feel like a woman. I feel like a woman who can do anything because I survived and all I want is to tell others that they can survive too. I am allowed to walk down the street alone, hell if I want to go to the toilet I can. I did fight back. I used my instinct and I fought back. But then I didn’t. I can’t. I can only fight in my mind. In my mind I can go anywhere and do anything and no one can stop me because I’m fearless.

This is not reality. My reality is not fearless; you took that away. I cannot go anywhere by myself. I have a constant fear if I’m alone at night, a constant fear. No one can really experience that fear. You made me want to succumb, to get it over with. What would have happened then? Would I feel worse than I do now? Would I feel less guilty about my feelings and anxiety because something actually happened? There’s another male view of it – ‘Nothing actually happened’. Another ignorant person who can never understand what happened. Yes nothing actually happened but what’s worse is that sometimes I wish it did, because my feelings feel inferior. But how can one measure feelings or experiences. Sexual assault is exactly that; sexual assault. It is using power and violence to force women to do something against their will, and that has no scale.

You affected me, did I affect you? Did I make you feel like the weight of the whole world is crushing down on your chest every time you think or talk about that night? Did I make you form a thick shell around you when new people come and talk to you? Did I make your body tense up and remember what it felt like to have another’s weight crushing down on you whilst you are struggling? The marks may have gone but the body never forgets. The mind never forgets. You have affected my body, my mind, my relationships. Maybe I have affected yours. I hope I have. I hope that you think about your actions from that night while you spend time waiting in prison. Was it worth it? For just an iPhone and a bit of prey. What did you think whilst walking down that road? What went through your mind as you saw me crouching there? ‘Oh I know I’ll just quickly have sex with that’ Did you see me as a person or did you just see a body? You tried to kiss me. Did you think if you pushed me to the ground hard enough or suffocate my screams enough I would reciprocate? Did you think I wanted that? Did you think I was asking for it? I really hope that now you understand the meaning of consent. It has affected your life too, let this be a lesson but it’s disgusting that it took affecting my life so dramatically for you to be taught that women are not objects made for men. Seriously though what was going through your mind? Did you brag about it to your friends afterwards or were you ashamed? Did you tell them how you got this brand new iPhone 6? Was that just it for you; a missed opportunity and a brand new phone. Look where that has got you. You are not brave, you are not a fighter, you are an ignorant boy.

While you are waiting in prison, hopefully forced to contemplate your actions. I am here, outside free in the basic sense of the word. I am free to walk around at night, I am free to have fun with my friends, I am free to have fun with my boyfriend. You may have destroyed my nerves but you have not destroyed my love. I love. I love my friends, I love my family and I love my boyfriend. You have not rid that of me. I love and it is the best feeling in the world. Do you know how that feels? I love and I am loved. I am loved for me and I guess you have added to that. You have made me capable, you have made me realise that love is the most important thing to me. Happiness and love above all. To love now means so much more because I can feel this even though you showed me the opposite of love. You showed me hate and menace and the abuse of power.

I am safe in love and I know that you cannot have that. I am safe with my boyfriend, with my friends, my family. They make me safe. They make me happy. They empower me. I empower them. I show them my strength. I show them that I can succeed. Although they may never understand I show them that I can survive this unimaginable ordeal and that empowers me.

I am empowered. I am safe and I am loved.

By Catherine 

TW: Suicide, PTSD

To the man whom I trusted with my body, heart and soul,

I want you to know what a state I was in after I accepted what you did to me. I have never wanted to die more than I did then and if I hadn’t asked for help I might not still be here today. For two weeks in hospital I cried about three times a day or more about the rape. I painted lots of very dark paintings which all express what a dark place I was in because of what you did. I hardly smiled and lost the life within me- I wasn’t myself anymore. But you didn’t win because I didn’t kill myself even though I came so close and even wrote a suicide note which I later got rid of. I am smiling more again and more of my lively self once more.

I want you to know that you have no more place in my life. The two times I texted you expressing feelings about my rape are the last messages you will ever receive from me. I have unblocked your number and teared up and thrown away the piece of paper with your number written on it.

It is important that you are aware that in my very last message to you I partly lied. I wanted to believe that you have no power over me whatsoever but you do because I am still deeply hurt because of what you did to me. I may not be suicidal anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle to get through life knowing I was raped. Also, I may have gained back some power from you by pushing you off me halfway through but that doesn’t change the fact you raped me.

If I am honest, I am incredibly astonished that you, someone I trusted and who was my friend ‘before anything else’ as you yourself said, raped me.

I want to know why! Why did you decide to damage another human being so much?

You had no right to take away my virginity against my will, take away my choice, not use a condom and rape me especially as you knew I was vulnerable as I had already been assaulted before and had bipolar disorder and PTSD.

I hope that if you don’t feel it now that one day you will feel very guilty for the rest of your life for what you have done as you rightly should.

I no longer have any romantic feelings towards you and I am learning to trust men again including a new male friend.

I refuse to let what you did to me defeat me and stop me from moving on with my life but it will take time to heal the hurt and get my confidence back.

One thing is for certain, you may have taken away my choice and violated my body but you never took away my voice. I said to you in person and over text message what you did to me and I told your close friend what you did to me even if she took your side. I will keep on speaking up about sexual violence whenever I can through the power of words and sharing my experience so I can raise awareness and make others feel less alone. It is through using my voice that I am getting back the power you took from me. You will never take my voice away from me.

Electra Rose

I refuse to let you have power over me

Like a boulder you crushed me mentally, emotionally, sexually.

You left a negative imprint upon me.

Now my scar from rape is healing-

I cannot erase the wonderful memories with you from my mind,

I still wear the dresses I wore with you

And the underwear.

I refuse to let you have any power over me-

I am strong and I now feel absolutely nothing towards you

Except my locked up anger.

It was dark out and pretty late and I was waiting for the bus. I don’t remember where I was going. The street was empty and I waited alone. Three men walked up, I thought they needed to take the bus too. But they came over to me and screamed at me in a language I didn’t understand. Two of the guys started to touch me and they held me by my throat so I couldn’t breathe. Hands were everywhere on my naked body and my hands touched body parts I didn’t want to touch. Everything happend so fast that I couldn’t even think of what to do, or how to get out. I don’t know how long I’d been standing there, it might have been seconds. The bus came and the driver saw what happened and put up the big light and started honking. I got out, fixed my clothes and got in the bus. The driver asked if I was okay and gave me his card. I don’t remember where I went with the bus. I don’t remember how I got out.

I do remember how I tried to tell my (now ex-)boyfriend what happened, but before I had a chance to say anything he just asked me why I hadn’t punched them.

By Tegan

Mine happened at sixth form college, not uni, but I thought I would share it anyway, as I haven’t told many people about this, not even my parents. I was at a friend’s birthday party, and we were camping overnight in her garden as a few of us were from further afield so we stayed the night. A bunch of guys from her school stayed as well, even though we were told we would have the tent to ourselves. They ended up hotboxing the tent (charming) and then coming into sleep next to us. Needless to say, with three guys and three girls, it was a bit of a squish.

The next morning, I woke up and I felt really weird. It was a few seconds before I noticed that the guy next to me had his hand in my pants, just casually rubbing my vagina. I was horrified. I wasn’t sure what to do. I lay there paralysed for a few seconds before turning over quickly and saying something to him. He turned back around and went back to sleep and I decided to do the same. It was only until after they had gone when I told the other girls what happened that I realised how bad it was. I told a couple of close friends when I got home, one of whom told me to tell the police, but I just thought “why would the police care about something so trivial?”

I messaged one of the guys on Facebook to tell him what his friend had done. He just replied “I’m sorry, he does weird shit when he’s on a comedown”. And that was that. Nothing else came from it: I didn’t tell my parents or anyone else, and luckily I just got over it quite quickly. But from time to time I think about it and feel a bit gross, and wonder why it wasn’t such a big deal.

I’ve become used to saying the word rape. I’m close to being able to drop it into everyday conversation. I’ve come a long way.

A term I am not comfortable with is ‘my’ rapists. Or ‘my’ attackers. They are rapists. They chose to rape me. They don’t deserve to ever lose that label.

But they are not mine.

When I lost that fight, they sickeningly took ownership of my body. They made me one of their victims.

If they were mine, if I ever had any control over them I would make sure they can’t rape anyone else. Unless I win this fight I don’t want anything to do with them. Unless I can prove that they made me their victim and a judge gives me the power to influence their future, no part of them is mine and I don’t want it to be.

Until then, they’re free to be anyone’s rapists.

By an Anonymous Contributor to the Campaign

By an Anonymous Contributor to the Campaign
I have been sexually assaulted whilst intoxicated by 7 different men. 2 of them attempted to rape me.

On four occasions, even though I was drunk I told the men that I didn’t want to sleep with them and so they did other things to me and coerced me to do things without my consent.

On one occasion I was blind drunk and a man indecently assaulted me. I didn’t kiss him back and yet he continued to kiss me and I didn’t stop him until he started touching my breasts and then was trying to touch my vagina. I made an excuse to him that I needed to see my friend to and gave him my number because I was scared and wanted to get rid of him.

My first kiss was not consensual. I got into a guy’s bed just because I didn’t want to sleep on the floor like my friend, not because I wanted to do anything sexual with the man. He kissed me and for the most part I didn’t kiss him back or forced myself to kiss him back-the kiss was forced on me. He also dry humped me and would have raped me as he assumed I wanted to have sex with him and said he was going to get a condom. I had been very passive whilst he had touched me whilst I was in a state where I couldn’t give consent as I had had far too much to drink and this was impairing my ability to say no.

One situation was complicated. I consented to kissing a man I met after going to an event and then going for a drink with him but not him touching my breasts, vagina and bottom. I froze like in many instances when I have been sexually assaulted and was unable to do anything but I felt very uncomfortable.

The sexual assaults made me depressed and the final acceptance of the sexual assaults caused a nervous breakdown which made my depression even worse. I tried to go back to university for the next year but became suicidal to the point where I woke up thinking I wanted to take an overdose and so I had to take the year out to deal with my PTSD symptoms stopping me from going back.

By an Anonymous Contributor to the campaign

By an Anonymous Contributor to the campaign

Submitted by a Contributor to the #NotGuilty Campaign

By Electra Rose 

I am a fragile rose and my head is a broken balloon

I am a fragile rose-
my petals have been crushed
By cruel hands and words-
They lie dead on the floor.

I am told to hush hush-
Denial that my head is a broken balloon.

Collecting remnants of my troubled rose
Is halted each moment that I froze
In fright-
I thought someone was hurting me again that night.

Boys Will Be Boys

Shocked, confused,
ashamed.
No amusement
At the strike of embers.
Twelve and no reaction to their toot;
Insignificance of harassing shouts and toots.

Summer lesson
Of the place of women;
Men may whistle, shout and toot
But to women it’s all a hoot.
Pretend you aren’t burnt
by the embers
As they’re only embers.
Shrug it off;
That’s just how it is.
We all learn;
Boys will boys.

Fourteen and at a school dance
After a glance
A boy puts his hand up my skirt-
I didn’t even flirt.
I stop him and pretend I’m not burnt by the embers
As they’re just embers.
Shrug it off;
That’s just how it is,
We all learn;
Boys will be boys

I’m eighteen and seriously sexually assaulted,
I didn’t view it as assault.
When you try not to remember
When the embers
Hit you
You think nothing of the flames
When they burn you.
Shrug it off;
That’s just how it is,
We all learn;
Boys will be boys.

Society taught me women are dolls for men to play with.
I thought it was okay for them to play with me,
To tug my hair without my consent.

We need to stop normalising verbal sexual abuse
If we want to stop viewing physical sexual abuse
As inevitable
And trivial.
Embers are the start of a flame.

You shredded my soul

You shredded my heart, soul and body
And unvaryingly left
My broken paper on the floor
With your forceful, unwanted violation.

A revelation-
I’m not really okay
As my heart is sobbing inside,
My soul is crying for life,
For hope I will stop half dying inside
And move on with my life.

I can’t and won’t let you defeat me-
I am a warrior and I will keep fighting until the end.

I wish I never made you art

I wish I never made you art
Because you shattered me-
You violated me with your dart.

How dare you spoil me
And break my heart.

The Ultimate Betrayal

Betrayal when you broke down my bedroom door
Without my consent.

You left my sky blue crystal eyes
Disorientated, confused, overwhelmed.

Uncertainty clouded my mind
As I walked through my maze inside.

As the days went by
My uncertainty disappeared-
Denial phase was over-
I was raped.

Now I must get out of my maze
And it will take time
But I am like a rose-
Both strong and fragile.
They never plucked my petals,
They just bruised me.
My strength will save me from despair.

Forceful Night
Acceptance shrouded my sky in dark black clouds.
Gone is my sapphire sky-
Now all that exists is night.
The night he forefully gave me against my will.
How will I ever get day to return?

Stockholm Syndrome 
That very first day our eyes first met
I had to talk to you,
I showed you the way
So you didn’t go astray.

The truth is that I have never been as forward with anyone,
That night when I said “we should revise French together”.
Except I was too drunk to know what I was saying
And I never thought I liked you

Later I wanted to talk to you more but I became shy every time
lost the will to speak,
Didn’t know what to say
I think now it is because of
What you did to me,
I just thought I liked you.
I wonder if you know
My mouth hurt the day after.

I can’t believe I wanted to have sex,
Watch a French film and eat dinner.
With you
After what you did to me,
How you treated me.
Now I know what you did wasn’t right
You really gave me a fright
As I lay there wishing you to stop
To stop now
To stop kissing me so violently.

I thought you were like me
But just because you’re similar to me
Doesn’t excuse what you did

I felt the sexual tension in the air,
noticed when you arranged your hair

I just focused on that moment where you held me and I was glad
Because no one ever held me,
So I ignored when you made me feel bad,
I ignored the fact you committed digital rape,
That’s right in some states in America what you did is rape
And I told you, “please be more gentle, you’re hurting me”
When all I wanted to say was stop
But I was too intoxicated to say the word stop
Because I never wanted that to happen
And yet you hurt me again
And I had to say it again
And move your hand away

What you did to me was not okay
You took advantage of me
And used me for your own pleasure.
I am not a commodity to be used.
You shall not be excused
For what you did

It was not my fault
What you did was not okay
And I was too used to men taking advantage at every stage
When I was not in a state to know what was going on
And all I ever wanted was to be walked home
Or have a chat
I don’t know why I lied to myself and said I was like that
I am not like that

Now I know why I felt so confused in the morning
And asked myself “what happened?”
And decided to leave straight away
And didn’t want you to walk me home
And didn’t let you walk me all the way home
And didn’t want to text you
Because of what you did.
I now accept what you did.
I hope you realise what you did

Rape Is Murder

Virginal rape is murder of innocence.
Rape is murder of the body,
Rape is murder of the sexuality,
Rape is murder of the soul,
Rape is murder of the heart.
Picking the petals of roses
Without the consent of the beautiful rose is sexual assault.
Ripping the head of a rose off unlawfully is rape.

By Biddyshere Williams

3 months ago my lovely daughter lost her friends on her way home. She was attacked and raped by a stranger. His Uncle stumbled on to the scene and called the police. My daughter ran home. She did not want to pursue with charges. However after hearing of your campaign, she did. After 6 weeks of anti HIV drugs and losing time off work because the drugs made her feel so ill (unpaid) the case came to court and the 18 year old with previous convictions for violence and anti social behaviour was found not guilty. He broke bail conditions twice. My daughter is going to move from her small town because she is afraid of what may happen if she bumps into him. She was brave. She did nothing wrong. The police were shocked at the verdict. He will do it again. What can a mother do to make this right?

By Catherine

I had a lunch date with a guy I really liked and then went back to his house. We were kissing and then I told him I was a virgin and he said that that was fine and we would do whatever I was comfortable with. We continued kissing and started undressing. We were half naked and he put me on my back and came towards me slowly, didn’t say anything and forced himself on me. I pushed him off me halfway through and he asked me if I was sad.

The acceptance of the rape shattered me. I became extremely depressed and suicidal and almost jumped in front of a train. I had to be hospitalised and started a suicide attempt in hospital. The rape combined with my bipolar disorder made for an extremely traumatic and difficult two months.

I was blamed by people who told me that if you get naked with a guy you should expect them to have sex you. I was also told that as I liked him and I dated him, although he forced himself on me, it “didn’t count” as rape.

I asked him if we had had sex when I met up with him a time after, as I was in denial about the rape and had tried to convince myself I had consented. I also think it was because I had been sexually assaulted in the past and so had skewed ideas about consent. I asked him after dinner and once we in his house if we had had sex and he said no. I then got very sad and cried a lot. I asked him eventually what he was thinking and he said he was scared and that he forced himself on me and attempted to rape me. I told him that it wasn’t attempted rape but rape due to the fact penetration occurred.

Anonymous

By Fred

I am a gay man from the Netherlands. During a visit to London as a tourist the summer of 2009 my drink was spiked, I was robbed and sexually assaulted by a member of gang targeting gay men. I would like to share my experience appealing against the decisions of the CICA because this may be of use to victims of drug-rape.

I decided to apply for compensation two month after the incident when I realised the police investigation was not going any further. It was the only thing left for me to do.

My application was rejected by the CICA 6 month after applying. They wrote: “It was several days after you reported the theft before you then advised the Police of the sexual assault. l have considered whether his could be related to drugs, however, there is no evidence available to us that shows you were administered recreational drugs, or any date-rape type drugs.” By this time I knew of lab-results showing Diazepam in my urine so I decided to ask for a review. I also further explained the delay in reporting the sexual assault.

To my dismay my review application was rejected in this manner: “We have checked with the police who confirmed that you had a trace of diazepam in your urine….
… you did not see anyone administer anything to your drink ….
in addition, it is noted that you did not inform the police of the sexual assault allegation until around 4 days after you reported the theft.”

This was infuriating. “you did not see anyone administer anything to your drink” What kind of a fool was I taken for? My arguments about the delay in reporting were ignored. I was devastated knowing that appealing would entail attending a hearing. This meant going back to London, something very hard for me to do. In the end I did decide to appeal.

Later on I was sent the hearing bundle. I was shocked by part of the police report. “…the victim does appear delusional…” This confirmed my feeling that my allegation had not been taken seriously. On top of this I now read the officer’s comment to the CICA. “Mr B. stated that he was a willing party when ‘R.’ rubbed his groin. Mr B. did not object to this and in fact stated that he found it pleasurable. No complaint was made regarding the rub of groin but only the subsequent action…. The findings of the toxicology tests do not change my opinion of Mr B.’s allegation.”

Was this the result of being totally open and honest to the police in giving them a very detailed statement? He basically said I should blame myself for what had happened. From this I very much doubted my chances in appealing, as well as feeling embarrassed about the details shown.

By march 2011 the hearing took place in London. A caseworker from GALOP accompanied me for “moral support”. The hearing took 3 hours. Early on a member of the panel started questioning me in a rude way, using four letter words. My caseworker spoke out on this. This intervention did help, the tone was less sharp from then on.

I was lucky to have my case reopened by the police after I read news reports on similar cases 1 year after my incident. It was investigated by a different officer, I was able to get him attend to give evidence in my hearing.

There was a misconception both on the side of the police and the Authority on the effects drugging. The solicitor from the Authority claimed that the effect would be immediate, not gradual. This was vital to her argument; it would mean my drink was spiked after the sexual assault. This would have implications on the issue of consent.

Very important to winning my case was a “diary of events” I had written 5 days after the incident. The process of writing everything I could remember of the events on that night triggered my memory and made me recall the sexual assault. It also helped to piece together the events and filling in some of the blanks. From the start what had been foremost on my mind was finding out what had happened during the time I had “lost” due to the amnesia.

I advise any victim of drink-spiking to do like me. Write down on paper all you can remember in a chronological order. It helps to get back some sense of control. It may also help by giving more detailed information to the police for their investigation.

Part of the written reasons on the decision from the Appeal Panel:
“ His diary of events corroborates his statement .. the later reporting of the sexual assault to the Police, so far from being inconsistent, is entirely in keeping with what would be expected following the administration of Diazepam.
…There is no realistic possibility of Diazepam taking effect instantly upon being ingested… The history of gradually diminishing recall is much more likely”

From applying for compensation to finally winning my case in a hearing took 18 months. I am glad I did persevere. It was a very challenging but also very rewarding to finally getting acknowledgment on what happened. The money was less important but did come in handy.

It has helped me to cope with the incident. It was beneficial for my recovery. Ultimately [as with any crime involving sexual violence] it was about loss of power – control. Going through the process of applying, review and appealing has given me back a sense of control over my life. I did accomplish this and it has helped restoring my self confidence.

I do hope this information can help others going through this process.

By Sally Fraser 

I remember I had these weird acrylic nail extensions. My mum had paid for me to have them done so that I would stop biting my nails. I had painted them a pearly pale green colour. He had a bald head and I liked the way it felt under them. He had a hairy chest and I liked that too, under my fingers, under my tongue, wiry and salty. He was really sweaty and I’d never seen anything like it, and I remember him taking his glasses off and me asking ‘can you still see me’ and him chuckling and saying yes of course, I was very close up. He was stubbly, rough against my ghostly white skin. But he touched and kissed me perfectly, it was blissful. Yes, yes I definitely wanted this. Not just consent, I actually asked. Please. I want you.

I kept my clothes on, I wouldn’t have been confident being naked in front of someone until years later. My first proper bra. My most grown-up clothes. But still children’s clothes.

The pain was excruciating, it caught my breath and I wondered if I was going to be able to bear it till the end. There was one moment when he let his composure or whatever his not entirely genuine demeanour was slip and sounded frustrated, impatient: just relax. But I couldn’t, so I gently bit his shoulder and held tight.

Afterwards he asked if I felt safe, and warm and loved and I said yes I did and meant it, maybe for the first time. Over the months and years that would follow I would revisit that moment, I was foolish, I had believed someone who said they loved me, that I was beautiful and special. I only ever thought of it as heartbreak, his only crime was deception, not loving me, disappearing.

Until a few months ago, when I heard he had gone to prison. It turns out as you got older the girls didn’t, if anything they got younger. And money started changing hands. Suddenly everything looked different. Maybe I hadn’t been the incredibly mature and sophisticated young woman who had attracted an older man. Maybe this wasn’t a romantic tale of sexual awakening and empowerment at all. I started desperately trying to sort through my memories. Listening to his friend get angry with him and talking about statutory rape, and not knowing what that meant. The time, years earlier, sitting on his knee and him saying I was going to save myself for him. There’s a name for that isn’t there?

Now there is usually a time in the wee hours of each morning when I can’t stop re-visiting that unfolded sofa bed. It’s almost as if I am trying to look over that man’s shoulders and see into my own eyes, trying to trust what I was feeling. Genuine desire, love, lust; on my part even if not on his. But I keep watching and asking: was that a woman or a child? I had always believed it was a woman, the woman I became, I just became her earlier than most people. But if it was a child, then who am I now?