Facing him

I did it.  I faced the monster from my nightmares.  And I realised that he is nothing but a cowardly little weasel.

I hardly slept at all the night before.  I couldn't eat anything in the morning.  I kept thinking "in a few hours I will come face to face with the man that ruined my childhood".  I was terrified.

My Mum and I arrived at the courthouse at about 9.30am.  My Aunt arrived soon afterwards.  The sentencing ended up being at about 10.30am.  Walking in to the courtroom was slightly terrifying - his family and friends were already seated on the left side, and all of them glared at us.  It was slightly intimidating.  However - I had my wonderful Police Liaison Officer with me, a detective and security.  I was safe.

He entered.  The judge entered.  The barristers did their thing.  The whole thing took about an hour and a half.

I needed to build up my courage to look at him, but once I had built that courage up, I spent almost the entire time staring at him.  Throughout the 90 minutes, he looked my way only three times.  The first two times lasted for about a second - he could not actually bring himself to look directly at me.  In fact, he was determined to look anywhere but at me.

It wasn't until that moment - when he looked at me and then quickly looked away - that I realised something.  I realised that I am strong.  I realised that he is weak (my actual thoughts were "you pathetic, weasel-y little bitch").  People have been telling me this for a long time, that I am strong.  But I didn't feel strong myself, I didn't feel brave or courageous.  Until I realised that he couldn't bring himself to look at me.

What a pathetic, horrible little man.

And then when the judge started giving the sentences... oh how my heart soared!  She read through each charge, giving the sentencing for each one.  I was desperately trying to work out in my head what they all added up to.  I thought I must have made some sort of mistake... but then she said "that gives you a total of 13 years and two months".

13 years and two months!!!!!!!!

I wanted to scream, to jump up and down, to throw my hands up in the air.  But we had all been warned to keep our facial expressions blank, in case his family saw that as a reason to start a fight.

He obviously couldn't believe it either.  He was near tears.  Then he composed himself.  Then he was furious.   Then he looked at me.  I was looking at him.  He quickly looked away.

The judge then asked him to sit down, as she had something she wanted to say.  She then spoke to me.  What she said was lovely, I was almost in tears.  She said that she knows nothing will ever make up for what was done to me, that I have suffered a lot throughout the years, but that she hopes that now I can start to live my life and find peace and happiness.  It was beautiful.  And I love the fact that she made him listen to it.

He was then led away by security, shouting "I will prove my innocence" before the doors closed on him.

Whatever.

The remaining security then formed a barrier around us, so that his family could not get to us (I later found out that certain members of his family were looking at me in a very threatening way throughout the entire sentencing - I hadn't realised, as I was so focused on him).  We quickly left through the same entrance we came in (not the main entrance to the courtroom).

As soon as we were out of that room we burst in to smiles and were hugging each other.  What an amazing result!  I honestly wasn't expecting it.  I thought that the best we could hope for was 5 years, but that he would most likely only get 2.  So for him to get 13 years and 2 months... it's just brilliant.  It's the perfect number - he started abusing me when I was 12, which is 13 years ago.  For 13 years I have lived in fear - now it's his turn.

We left the courthouse about an hour later.  We had to leave through a different entrance, as his family were standing guard at the main entrance.  It would appear that they were waiting for me.  Luckily the police stayed with me, and we were walked to our cars.

It's over.  It's really and truly over.  I feel like I finally have closure.

I know that I still have a long way to go - I still have depression, PTSD and insomnia.  But... my abuser and rapist is behind bars.  He was too afraid to look at me.  And by God, does that feel good!

13 years and two months!!

Tonight

I am very positive about the future, about my future.  I have no idea what will happen, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I actually have a future - I don't have this massive secret weighing me down, I don't spend all of my energy thinking about the trial.  I can actually put all of my energy in to fixing myself.

And that feels good.  So good.

However, it's going to be a long, long road.  Because the guilty verdict doesn't mean that I'll stop having flashbacks.  It doesn't mean that I'll stop hearing his voice in my head.  A guilty verdict doesn't undo what he did.  What a guilty verdict does mean is that I can finally stop being scared of him - he can never hurt me again.  A guilty verdict means that I can rebuild my life, and myself.  It means that I can finally start to heal.

But it is difficult.  Because people think 'why are you still depressed?  Why are you still suffering from PTSD?  Why are you still having nightmares?  He's behind bars, move on'.  They don't understand when I tell them that I'm still living with the consequences of his actions.  He is going to serve his time - justice has been won.  But I'm still living with the trauma.

It devastated me.  I don't often talk about it in detail, because I know how upsetting it is for my parents.  I know they read my blog, and I know that at times reading my blog is extremely painful for them.  But I need to tell the truth.

Childhood sexual abuse is devastating.  I was exposed to things I should never have been exposed to - not until I was sexually mature.  I wasn't, I was 12.  That is a long way from being sexually mature.  My view on sex was completely warped.  He taught me that love equals sex.  He taught me that friendship equals sex.  He taught me that my self-worth is intertwined with sex.  He taught me that in order to be valued, I need to give some sort of sexual favour.  Without sex, I was nothing.

He taught me that it doesn't matter whether or not I want to have sex - he would just take it anyway.  He made me rely on him completely.  He made me hate myself.

So I have a long, long way to go.  I am unlearning all of this filth that he taught me.  I am rebuilding myself.  I am learning to recognise healthy and non-healthy relationships.  I know that I am worth a hell of a lot better than the way I have been treated in the best.

In the past 13 years I have been looking to be loved, but I have been looking in all the wrong places.  I have clung on to anyone that showed me any sort of interest.  I have let myself be treated like dirt, because I thought that that was how you treated someone you love.  I thought that that was what love is.  I have done many, many things that I regret.  All because I was taught that the only way to be friends or to get someone to love me was by giving away my body.  So of course I attracted the wrong kind of people.

No more.  I am worth more than that.  I deserve better than that.  I deserve better than what I have been seeking.

I'm making a lot of steps towards a healthier, happier life.  But I still have a long way to go.  Tonight I am suffering from insomnia.  Tonight I had a flashback.  Tonight I head his voice.  But tonight I also realised that I wasn't scared.  That I am a survivor, and that life is going to get better.  Tonight I realised that I'm a lot stronger than I ever thought possible, and that I am worthy of happiness and love, and I sure as hell won't settle for anything else.

Still nothing

Still no verdict yet.  If there’s one thing I've learnt, it’s that the law moves extremely slowly.  Apparently the judge alone gave a 3 hour closing speech.  Three hours.  Is that a good thing?  Or a bad thing?

I’m terrified that he will be found not guilty.  Everyone keeps telling me that no matter what happens; I've done all I can.  It’s completely out of my hands.  I need to move on with my life.  I agree with them.  But it’s not that easy.

Have I really done all I can?  Could I have been a stronger witness?  If only I hadn't deleted all of his emails, his texts, his voice-mails etc.  But I was a stupid kid, I wanted him out of my life.  After he raped me, I wanted to wipe him out of existence.  The closest I could get was wiping any and all evidence of him out of my life.  I can see now that that was an incredibly stupid thing to do.  Had I kept everything of his, then this would be an open and shut case.

He claims we met when I was 16.  My diary disproves that, but so would the emails.

He claims it was never sexual.  All the pictures would have disproved that.

He claims I’m making it all up.  Again; the pictures, the emails and the texts would disprove that.

I’m kicking myself right now.  But I was so convinced that no one would believe me, that I would just put a lid on it and get on with my life.  I never thought I would report him or take him to court.  But I have.  And I wish I still had those emails and pictures and texts. 

What if the jury says he’s innocent?  All of this will have been for nothing.  Except that the police are aware of him.  But still… I have no doubt about the fact that if he’s found innocent, that it will have a big impact on him.  One of the most difficult things I've ever had to do was go to the police and report him, be questioned about him and go to court.  If he’s found innocent, it means that I wasn't believed.  That I would make something like this up, that I would lie after having sworn on the Holy Bible, that I’m a liar.

One of the worst things for a child abuse victim/rape victim is to not be believed.  Now I need to wait and see if these 12 strangers believe me, or him.

Because I told the truth on the stand.  I was sworn in.  I held the Holy Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  And I did.  Even when it made me look bad, I told the truth.  He didn't, he couldn't have.  Unless he admitted it, which I doubt.  He couldn't be telling the truth if he's disputing everything that I've said.

And my Aunt told me that his daughter was in the court, in the gallery.  Who the fuck would bring their daughter to a trial like this?  She’s only a teen.  Why would he do that?  Why would he put her through that?  Why would his wife allow it?  It’s sick.  Just sick.

I also worry – did he hurt his daughter?  He hurt me, but does that mean that he hurt his daughter as well?

One of the things that I will have to live with for the rest of my life is knowing that he could have hurt someone else.  I could have stopped that from happening, if I had spoken up sooner.  I pray that he hasn't hurt someone else, but I just don’t know.  And that kills me.  I will have to live with the uncertainty and guilt for the rest of my life.

I’m worried.  I’m really worried.  I want to know the verdict so I can deal with it.  Right now I feel like I’m living in limbo. 

I just want this to be over

Tomorrow...?

I’m full of flu at the minute, so I’m not exactly feeling great.

I've heard from the police, and was told that he testified today, and so did some people as a character witness.  When I heard this, I said to my parents; ‘what are they going to say?  That he’s such a nice guy for a pedophile?’ 

I have to joke at the minute – it’s either laugh or cry, and I've done enough crying.

I wish I knew what he said, what was asked, what the character witnesses said etc.  But I'm not allowed to know, not until it's all over.

Tomorrow are the closing speeches and then the jury retires to talk about the verdict.  So the verdict could be tomorrow.  I’m extremely nervous.  What if they find him innocent?  I would have gone through all of this for nothing.  Well, not for nothing.  No matter how this plays out, I don't regret finally telling the truth.  I don't regret going to the police.  It won't have been for nothing, because I - finally - stood up to him and I fought back.

I'm still pretty scared right now though.

And it sucks that I can’t make an appointment with my psychologist.  I’m desperate to talk to her, to talk about the trial, the impact it’s had on me etc.  But there’s a tiny chance that she could be called to give evidence, so we’re not allowed to talk.

I know that it’s the justice system, but it’s absolutely ridiculous.  Until the trial is over I’m not allowed to talk about it, so I’m just left with all these feelings and fears that I’m not allowed to give a voice to.  Not exactly great for my mental health.

But, tomorrow there should be a verdict.  Holy crap.

My birthday

I haven’t had the time to write anything for a few days – have been so busy.  The day after we got back home, Friday, I spent most of the day decorating and sorting out food and various other things.  On Saturday I had a hair appointment and in the evening it was my murder mystery party.

I had such a great night.  Loved every minute of it.  For those few hours I completely forgot about the court case and instead I thoroughly enjoyed my party.  There was laughter, outrage at being murdered, intrigue, blackmail… I had so much fun.  I hope everyone else did as well.

Today is my actual birthday.  Can’t believe I’m 25… It’s a slightly muted affair today.  I opened all the cards and presents, absolutely love everything I was given.  I have very generous friends and family!!

I’m not really celebrating today though.  The trial is continuing.  There was some sort of administrative error on Friday which meant that they couldn't continue with the case until today.  I’m worried.  I’m wondering what’s happening.  It’s put a slight damper on my birthday, to say the least.

I keep thinking about things I said, things I wish I had said and things I wish I hadn't said.  I know there’s no point thinking ‘what if I had said this’ etc.  But still…  Can’t help running over everything in my mind.  I think that until a verdict is reached, I will be constantly on edge and second guessing myself.

Over the past few days I've also realised just how much work I still need to do.  I’m pretty damaged.  I’m not broken, I've glued myself back together, but the cracks are still there.  One day the cracks will be very faded scars, but for now, I have a lot of work to do.

On the night of my party it hit me just how much work I really need to do.  7 of my friend stayed the night, 3 of which were guys.  I know these men, they’re my friends.  But I still couldn't sleep.  All I kept thinking was ‘there are 3 guys in the house’.  These 3 guys are great, they are such lovely people.  They’re friends.  But he was my friend as well, or at least, I thought he was my friend.  I know now that he was just a pedophile pretending to be my friend, grooming and molding me.

But… I really did think of him as my friend.  And he raped me.  And I’m furious with him.  Because not only did he ruin my childhood, but he has completely destroyed my trust.  I find it incredibly difficult to trust anyone, but men in particular.  Apart from my Dad, there is only one man that I can think of that I would trust with my life, and that’s one of my oldest friends, D. 

And I hate him for it.  These guys that stayed over are great guys – for crying out loud, most of them were staying over with their girlfriends!  But I just could not sleep.  All I kept thinking was ‘there are 3 guys staying the night in my house, I am not safe’.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  I ended up staying awake until 5am, until I was too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

I wouldn't have had it any other way though – I am glad that these guys stayed over.  The 8 of us had one hell of an after-party which was just awesome.   I just wish I could trust more easily and I wish the friendship of men didn't make me feel afraid.

I guess that’s something to work on with my psychologist.  And have no doubt - I will work on it, and I will fix myself.  In the meantime, I'm not going to let my past dictate my future, nor will I let my past dictate who I am friends with.  I'm young and I deserve to have fun, dammit!

The diary

2:40pm – Today could not have gone any better!!!  Well, I suppose if he had decided to plead guilty there and then, that would have been better.  But seriously, it’s fantastic today!

As you know, last night a friend of ours searched our house and find the diary.  I wasn't able to tell my parents why I needed the diary, just that it was important.  Then when the friends rang and told us they had found the diary... fantastic!

Then the question was – how are we going to get it to London overnight?  First we tried to find somewhere that would post it overnight.  Far too expensive.  A friend of the family friends said he would drive down for cash.  My parents said yes.  Again, I couldn't tell them why I needed the diary, just that it was of the utmost importance.

At 1am in the morning, the guy arrives at our hotel and gives my Dad the diary, who gives it to me.  I read it.  All the entries are dated, making it obvious that I was about 14 when I wrote in it.  There are only a few entries, and some pages are missing as the diary is falling apart.

But – I mention him!!  This proves that his defense is a lie.  It proves that we knew each other when I was 14.  It proves that I was telling the truth, and he was lying.

So, I tell the kick-ass police detective and handed it over today at the court.  We all sat waiting around in the witness lounge.  At about midday we’re told that the trial has been adjourned for the day, as his lawyer and he have a lot to discuss, and they need to figure out where to go from here.  This means that the diary has been allowed in as evidence, despite it being handed in at such short notice.

But it’s made a HUGE hole in his defense.  It proves he was lying.

So now, him and his lawyer need to talk about what to do next.  Who knows – he might even plead guilty!  That’s the best possible outcome.  The worst outcome is that it’s accepted as evidence (which I've been told it has been) and I’m questioned about it.  But there’s not much the defense can really say – it’s written in black and white.

So, for today, there’s nothing more I can do.  I’m still under oath so I’m not allowed to talk about it with anyone – which is SO frustrating.  I’m desperate to talk about it, to talk about what I went through in court, why the diary is so important etc.  But I can’t yet.

We’ll see what happens tomorrow.  But right now, I feel like a million dollars.  I feel like I could run a marathon.  I feel like I’m on top of the world.  I feel – wait for it – happy!  This is amazing.

4:15pm – Sometimes  I hate my brain.  I always think of the worst possible thing that could happen.  I try to be an optimistic person, and for the most part I am.  But sometimes it’s difficult.  Like now.  I’m thinking ‘what if his lawyer tries to ask for a mistrial, because the evidence came too late?  What if the judge accepts and then I have to go through all this again, and he changes his story so that the diary doesn't matter?’

I don’t know how the legal system works, so I don’t know if that’s plausible or not.  And I can’t ask anyone, because I’m not allowed to talk about it.

I hate not being allowed to talk about it.  These laws are there to protect him, not me.  I’m not allowed to mention the rape, even if I didn't use the word rape and said ‘at 17 we had sex, and he said it was consensual’, or something like that.  Because that would also prove that he’s lying (as the police told me it was a case of he said/she said and because it happened so long ago, there’s no evidence to support me.  So he must have made a statement saying we had sex, but it was consensual).  But that statement isn't allowed to be shown, even though it would prove he’s a liar.

His defense is basically; we talked online for up to 9 months when I was 16.  We never met.  It was purely platonic.  Well, my diary shows that we talked AT LEAST from the age of 14.  That statement would show that it was not platonic and that we did meet.  It would prove that he’s a liar.

But because of the law, he is protected, and I’m the one put on the stand and accused of being a liar and a money-grabber.

Oh yeh – I was also pretty much accused of being a child-slut.  That I was talking to lots of different people (men) online and met up with them so it’s impossible to remember which one actually hurt me.  I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!  I was fucking TWELVE years old.  He was the only one I talked!  And I think I would remember who fucking sexually abused and raped me!

Urgh.   The sooner this is over with, the better.

5:10pm – I've just had a text from my liaison officer.  She says the diary has definitely been accepted as evidence.  YES!!!  And I have to be at court for 10am tomorrow, which means I get a bit of a lie in.  She hasn't said anything else, so I guess that means he’s not pleading guilty and will somehow try and explain away the diary.  So I need to prepare myself.  I think it will be another difficult day tomorrow.

But, I’m trying not to think about it.  One day at a time.  Today was a good day.  Today I proved he was lying.  Today I shook him up.  Today was a victory for me.  I’m going to try and reclaim the happy feelings I had a few hours ago, and deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

9:10pm – All I keep thinking is “it’s almost over.  It’s almost over”.  Tomorrow should be the last day that I’m needed in court.  The trial won’t be over, but my part in it will be.  I just need to get tomorrow over and done with. 

Oh please let it be finished tomorrow.  I don’t want to stay another night in London.  I want to go home.  I want to get as far away from London as I possibly can.

Tomorrow will be horrible.  I know this.  I know that the defense has to up her game since I handed in my diary.  I don’t know what she’s going to do or say, but I know it will be awful.  I know it will be worse than the first time, as now there is proof that her client lied.  So she needs to push and push and push at me until I break, she will pour over every detail to try and trip me up.  I know she will.  But I will not break, I will not let her trip me up.  I will be honest.  I don’t remember every single detail.  It happened 12 years ago.  How am I supposed to remember all the details?

She will try and goad me in to arguing with her.  She will do everything in her power to try and discredit me.  I don’t know what she’s going to say.  But I know it’s going to be awful.

I will survive.

But I am dreading it.

11:40pm – I can’t sleep.  I’m so tired.  I can barely keep my eyes open.  But when I close them – nothing happens.  I lie there, not being able to sleep.  I toss and turn.  I can’t get comfortable.  And all that’s running through my head is tomorrow – what will happen? 

I was elated this afternoon.  I thought, right, this is it, he can’t possibly get out of this one. 

Now I’m not so sure.  He’s a weasel.  He’s slippery.  He can get out of this.  He’s got a really good lawyer (or barrister, whatever the term is) fighting in his corner.  My lawyer is awesome.  She’s fantastic – I couldn't ask for a better one.  But his is pretty damn good as well.  I just know she’s going to somehow twist my words.

And I know I shouldn't be thinking this.  But I keep thinking ‘why me?’  Why did this have to happen to me?  Why do I have to be going through this?  No one ever said life was fair, and aint that the truth.  If it was fair, then I never would have met him, I never would have been sexually abused, I never would have been raped, I wouldn't be suffering from PTSD, I would have finished university, I would be on my way to becoming a neuro-psychologist and my best friend would still be alive.

But life isn't fair.  So instead I’m in court, facing my rapist and I’m not allowed to mention that he raped me.  

And my best friend isn't here.

This afternoon I felt like a million dollars.  Now, I feel nothing but dread and fear and [emotional] pain.  I just know that his lawyer will have some trick up her sleeve to make me out to be a liar.

And I’m scared.  Because life isn't fair.  Life has never been fair up to now, so why would it be fair in giving me a good outcome in this trial?

I know that’s wrong.  I know I shouldn't be thinking like that.  I know that whatever happens, I can only do my best and it’s all God’s plan.  But I’m not perfect, I can’t pretend to understand God’s plan, and right now, I feel hopeless.

Life has never been fair to me up until now, so why would it suddenly change and things go my way?  And yes, I realise I’m having a self-pitying moment.  I don’t often have them, so I think I’m allowed to indulge in one right now. 

First day testifying

10:30am – I managed to get some sleep last night, but not much.  Kept waking up, had a lot of nightmares.  Dreamt about him.  He was chasing me, then caught me and he said ‘I’m very disappointed in you, this was meant to be our little secret, how could you do this to me?  Now you’ll never speak again’, and he ripped out my tongue.  It was horrible.

Right now I’m sitting in the witness area again.  I've had to give my permission for some medical details to be brought up, such as my PTSD.  Don’t really want him to know about it, but I am aware that it could help my case.  I’m realising very quickly that in a case like this, there is no such thing as privacy - my whole life is open to scrutiny.  Not his, but mine.

The witness area is quite busy, there are 4 other witnesses here today for various other cases.  Yesterday my parents and I were alone in the room, today we’re not.  It makes it more formal, more real somehow.

 

I’m also quite worried – I was told to apply for CICA, which I think stands for Criminal Injury Claim Association, or something like that, by my doctor.  So I applied for CICA.  I had never heard of it, and was told it’s the normal thing to do.  Now I've been told by the police that I shouldn't have done that, as the defense will say I’m making it all up for the money, which just isn't the case.  Yes, the money would help (seeing a psychologist is expensive, and that’s what I would spend the money on).  But if it came down to it, I want him to go to jail, I don’t want the money.

So stressed right now.  The fact that I have to read through my statement again and again isn't helping.  I’m reading myself describing the years of abuse over and over.  It’s not pleasant.  I want this to be over.

11:25am – I’m getting much better at this waiting game.  I've been in the witness area for almost 2 ½ hours.  I’m still very anxious and nervous, but I’m not in the same state as I was yesterday.  I’m managing to read my book (which is just some trashy chick-lit I picked up at a service station on the way down).  Time is moving a bit faster than yesterday, probably because I’m not pacing the room and twiddling my thumbs.

I just want this to be over, though.  I’m still dreading being cross-examined.  I've seen enough movies to know that the defense is going to put me through the wringer.  Everyone keeps telling me that it’s nothing personal, that she’s just doing her job.  I know this.  But at the same time, for me it is personal.  She is fighting to free the monster that abused me for 5 years and raped me.  How is that not personal?

She is defending the man that ruined my childhood.  She is protecting the man that stole my innocence.  She is sticking up for the man that raped me.  And she will be attacking me, the one that was sexually abused from the age of 12.

So yes, I know she is just doing her job.  But to me it is personal.  How can it not be?

1:10pm – I've been testifying.  The court has broken up for lunch, I've had a cigarette and some water.  I can’t eat.  I feel sick to my stomach.  It’s worse than I thought.  It’s absolutely terrifying.  And I've only been questioned by the prosecution.  If that was bad, how bad is the defense going to be?  I keep looking at the jury thinking; ‘you are going to decide whether he goes to jail or not.  You are going to decide whether he’s guilty or not’.  They’re normal; they look like normal people, nothing distinguishing about them.  Just members of the public.  They probably don’t even want to be here.  And they’re going to decide his future, and mine.

So far we haven’t gone in to detail.  E. (my barrister) has been asking me questions about my childhood; where I grew up, how many languages I speak, what subjects I took at school etc.  Then near the end she started asking about how old I was when I first met him online, what we talked about (in the beginning it was the current bands – the Spice Girls – and school, Eastenders, things like that.  After a few months it turned sexual, but gradually, so it seemed normal).

I was shaking the entire time.  Absolutely shaking.  I kept thinking, he’s in the same room as me.  He’s listening to this.  He’s in the same damn room as me.  It’s horrible, knowing that your abuser, your rapist, is sitting mere feet from you.  Yes, I can’t see him as I’m sitting behind a screen.  But I know he’s there, listening. 

I hate this.  I want it over.

6:10pm – It was awful.  I’m in my hotel room right now, after being interrogated for 2 ½ hours.  It was horrendous.

First the prosecution interviewed me, which was difficult in itself.  I had to say exactly what happened; what he did, what he made me do etc.  It was horrible and humiliating.  Then the prosecution had her turn.  It was horrendous.  I was preparing myself for the worst, and it was so much worse than that.

She told me that in reality, he and I had only conversed for up to 9 months, not 5 years.  That we had started talking when I was 16.  That it was never sexual.  I kept saying ‘no, no, no’ to everything.  But she made me out to be a complete liar.  Then she used some stories that I had written – I used to fancy myself as an author – and said that if I could write those, then I obviously had a good imagination and could go down to the smallest detail, just like I was doing with this case.  That it was all in my head.

She said I was doing it for the money (the CICA thing).  That I was exaggerating.  On and on and on, until I broke down crying.  It was absolutely horrendous.  And the worst part is, I have no idea if the jury believed her.  It really could go either way.  She was so convincing.

But, the good part?  I now have no feelings whatsoever about him.  I no longer care about him.  At all.  I don’t want to protect him.  I don’t want to make his life easier.  I despise him.  I utterly despise him.  I know I need to work on that, I need to find it in myself and in God to forgive him.  But right now, I hate him.

At 4:30 I was told I could leave, but that I had to go back tomorrow.  I went back to the witness area, saw my parents and burst in to tears again.  I am now completely drained.

6:20pm – I've had a few thoughts.  The first – I kept diaries as a child.  I threw most of them out, or they got lost in the move from Belgium to England.  But I know I kept one from when I was 13 or 14.  I asked a friend up North (who has the keys to our house) to search for it.  They found it!!  I have no idea what I wrote, but he was such a big part of my life, so I must have written about him.  They’re posting it up to the hotel, so that I can give it to the police tomorrow. At least it will prove that he’s a liar, that we were talking when I was younger than 16.

The other thing that keeps going round in my head is that he’s saying we've never met, that we only talked online for at most 9 months.  Complete and utter bullshit.  He admitted to the police when he was first questioned that when I was 17 we had sex.  He said it was consensual.  It wasn't.  But in his statement he said that we had sex.  But I’m not allowed to bring that up.  Why the fuck not?  It would show that he’s a liar.  The law is protecting him, the rapist, not me, the victim.  Why the fuck am I not allowed to mention it, but not use the word ‘rape’?  It would show the jury that he’s a liar, that he lied about that so he’s lying about the rest.

I told the truth.  The whole painful truth, even when it made me look bad.  I told the truth.  So why the fuck can I not point out something that obviously proves he’s a liar?

Okay.  Breathe.  Calm down.  I’m just so frustrated.  Today was hell.  It was 100 times worse than I was expecting.  It was horrendous.  At first I was upset, I cried, I was shaking.  Now I’m furious.  Why does the law protect him and not me?

I’m also wondering why I bothered to report it.  The defense asked that question as well.  She said something along the lines of ‘if what you say is true, why didn't you report it immediately, why wait until you were in your 20s – he could have done it to someone else’.  That is something that I will always blame myself for – if he’s done it to someone else.  But I was scared and at first I didn't realise it was abuse and rape.  Then I thought too much time has passed to do anything about it.  It was only when I told my parents and they believed me and asked me if I wanted to report it, that I realised I really did want to report it.

But seriously, I've just been put through hell.  And the jury might believe him.  So what was the point?

I’m exhausted.  I’m drained.  I want to go home.

6:55pm – I keep going over and over in my head what I was asked, and the answers I should have given.  I can think of so many better answers.  I’m kicking myself.  I wish the justice system was like in America, where the lawyers are allowed to prepare you and give you practice questions and anticipate what the defense will ask.  I was completely unprepared, and I fear I've ruined it.

8:30pm – Memories are coming flooding back.  Things I don’t want to remember.  I’m trying to get to sleep.  I’m so tired.  But every time I close my eyes, I’m flooded with memories.  I want to forget.  But I can’t.  And I’m remembering more and more, it’s horrible.

The first day

9.40am - I hardly got any sleep last night.  I also threw up in the early hours of the morning.  Think it’s my nerves getting to me.  I’m absolutely dreading today.  I can’t believe it’s happening, that today is the first day of the trial, and I’m testifying.

It doesn't seem real.  After all this time, it’s finally happening.  And I’m terrified.  What if the jury hates me?  What if they don’t believe me?  What will the defense ask?

I know that the defense is just doing her job, that I shouldn't take anything personal.  But I also know that it will be personal – she is going to try and get the jury to not believe me.  She is going to make out that as a 12 year old I came on to a 33 year old man.  She will do anything in her power to make me look bad.  And I’m terrified.

Part of me wonders how she can represent him.  But the other part of me knows that that isn't fair.  She is only doing her job.  But in my eyes, she is protecting the man that ruined my childhood.  She is protecting the man that abused me for years.  She is protecting my abuser by making it look like it was my fault.  I know it’s her job and I’m not being fair on her.  But still… that doesn't make it any easier for me.

I just need to remember that I’m not alone.  I have my family, I have my friends, I have the prosecution.  I have a lot of support.  I am not facing this alone. 

Except, in court, I will be alone and she will do everything in her power to break me.  And I’m absolutely terrified.

11am – I've arrived at the court house.  After being searched to make sure that I have no weapons on me, I was directed to the witness area.  I’m currently sitting in the lounge.  It’s quite a nice room really.  It was obviously designed with the help of a psychologist – the walls are a very pale, calm yellow and the pictures that are dotted around the room are of serene scenery.  It’s all designed for a calming effect.

I feel anything but calm right now.

I've bought a book with me, but I’m reading the same passage over and over again, with nothing going in.  My stomach is in knots.  I couldn't eat this morning.  I feel sick.

There’s a TV in this room with some DVDs.  I might try and watch something – again, all the DVDs are either comedies or chick-flicks, which I suppose is to calm you down.  No point watching an action movie and getting the adrenalin running – think I might overdose on adrenalin that way!

11:50am – I've met my lawyer, or rather, barrister, E.  She seems really nice.  Obviously we couldn't go in to detail and she couldn't tell me what she was going to ask me in court etc., but she just said that it’s okay to be nervous.  We talked a bit about my hearing and she asked if there was anything that needed to be done.  I told her the T-loop in court needed to be switched on and that when either she or the defense are asking me questions they need to face me so that I can lip-read.

She seems nice and good at her job.

I've been given my statement to read over.  It’s awful.  They suggested that I read it about four times.  It’s not nice.  Just reading over and over again what I said at my interview.  It makes me feel like a victim.  They are the words of a victim, of a scared child.  It’s pretty difficult to read.

12:30pm – time is moving so slow.  I've been told that I’ll probably give my testimony at about 2pm.  Another hour and a half to wait, possibly longer, possibly shorter.   It’s the waiting that is awful.  I’m here now, I’m ready to testify, I want it out of the way.   The waiting is horrible.  I’m getting more and more anxious as time progresses.

I went outside for a smoke before.  I’m not allowed to go out alone (I guess they’re afraid of witness tampering or something).  If it was up to me, I’d be chain smoking this entire time.  I want to sit outside on the steps with the breeze in my hair, listening to the birds and smoking a cigarette.  Unfortunately, I can’t do that, unless someone is with me.  Which sucks.  There should be a smoking room or area for witnesses to go.

God, I hate this waiting.

1:10pm – I've just had some lunch.  I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat.  I don’t want my stomach rumbling when I’m on the stand.  Had to find someone to come outside with me while I had another smoke.

The court has broken up for lunch.  The opening statements have been made (I assume).  In 50 minutes the court will start again and I will be called in.  I don’t think I've ever been so scared.  Well, I have.  Let me rephrase that.  Since the rape (which I’m not allowed to mention in court), I haven’t been this scared and nervous.  I am petrified, and extremely glad I chose to have a curtain around me while I’m questioned.  I’m in a right state right now, and the last thing I want is to see him and for him to see me like this.

1:40pm – Not long to go now.  Oh man.  Oh man.  Oh man.  I’m so nervous.  I’m going to ask if I can go in to the chapel about 5 minutes before I need to be in court.  I know there is nothing I can do but put my trust in God.  I think spending some time in the chapel will help to calm me, to center myself.

2:40pm – Turns out the jury hasn't been sworn in yet, all this time it’s been the two lawyers having verbal arguments to decide which evidence is allowed in and which isn't.  Some questions were raised, and I've had to give another statement to clarify some things.  He used to send me links to porn sites, most of them featured kids.  Bear in mind that that alone is classed as child abuse – directing a child of 12/13/14 to porn sites.  The thing they needed to clarify was which of these adult sites he directed me to, and which of them were visited by my parents…  So yes, that was a bit awkward!

Then I was told that the lawyers need to finish their argument, and then the jury will be sworn in and the opening statements will be given and only then will I be called to the stand.  I've been told that the chances of me being called today are very slim, and that I will probably be called tomorrow instead.

This waiting is absolutely exhausting.  I’m tired.  I’m fed up.  I want this to be over.

I’m annoyed as well.  Not at any particular person – I know it’s no one’s fault.  But I've been sitting here all day, getting more and more anxious, worried about being cross-examined etc., and it turns out I probably won’t even testify today.  It’s so frustrating.

I tell you, the judicial system is absolutely crazy.

4:30pm – I’m now back in my hotel room.  I didn't end up testifying today, that will happen tomorrow.  I just want it to be over.  I’m tired.  I want to go home to my bed.  I want to sleep for a week.  This morning I woke up terrified.  Throughout the day I was getting more and more anxious.  Now I’m ready.  I want it over.

7:10pm – Even though I didn't testify today, I’m exhausted.  Completely worn out, I can barely think.  Today has shaken me more than I realised.  I started panicking while I was outside smoking, wondering if he is nearby.  We were in the same building today.  The same building.  That’s a pretty scary realisation.  The man that abused me, ruined my childhood, was in the same building as me.  So right now, even though I know the chances of him being in this hotel are virtually nothing, I’m still freaked out.  I’m seeing him everywhere I go.  My mind playing tricks on me.  I’m constantly on edge.

Travelling down

I wasn't allowed to update this blog while the trial was going on, and I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone until the jury had reached a verdict.  However, I still kept a record of what was going on, and wrote everything down in a Word document.  I’m now posting what I wrote on the days that it happened.   I apologize for the swearing, but these are my actual feelings at the time that I wrote it.

18/11/12, evening

So the defense have managed to get their hands on my blog.  That means that for the duration of the trial, I can’t update it.  Instead, I’m following the advice of a friend and writing it in a Word document, to post online later.

I’m currently in London.  The drive down wasn't too bad – I was asleep for the entire journey (didn't get much sleep the night before).  I’m now sitting in my hotel room, reading, surfing the net, watching TV; anything to keep me distracted, to stop me thinking about tomorrow.

I’m absolutely terrified.  I’m now wondering if the defense will use my blog against me.  I don’t think they will, as all I've written about are my feelings.  I don’t regret starting my blog and writing in it – it shows everything that I’m going through.  I am not ashamed of being abused and raped. I am not ashamed of suffering from depression and PTSD.  I am not ashamed of anything that I have done that is a direct (or indirect) result from the years of abuse.  They are a true reflection of everything that has happened to me since the abuse and since going to the police. I will not be quiet; I will not hide in the corner.  I was sexually abused as a child.   I was raped as a teenager.  That is not my fault, and I will not sugar-coat any of the effects it has had on me.

This is my blog.  I am a rape survivor and this is my journey to recovery.  We live in a rape-culture society, and I will NOT sit in a corner and quietly try and fix myself.  I will NOT stay quiet in case I offend someone or make someone uncomfortable.  We live in a society where women are taught not to get raped, instead of teaching men not to rape.  My story (and other stories like mine) need to be heard if there is any chance of changing the view that ‘women ask for it’.

Anyway.  I’m scared.  I will admit that.  I am terrified.  Tomorrow I testify.  Tomorrow I will have to relive 5 years of abuse in front of total strangers.  I will do it.  But I am terrified.

11.55pm – I've been trying to get to sleep for the past hour and a half.  No luck.  I’m absolutely exhausted, but sleep just won’t come.  No surprise there.  My parents said I could wake them up if I couldn't sleep – they would keep me company.  But in all honesty, I just want to be alone right now.  I’m terrified about tomorrow.

Hopefully I’ll just have to testify the one time.  But it’s possible that I could be called to the stand again, unless the judge dismisses me.  I hope he dismisses me tomorrow.

I’m completely unprepared for tomorrow.  If I was in America then my lawyer would prepare me, would ask me the type of questions that the defense might ask me.  I've not even met my lawyer.  The way the system works in the UK, I have to be completely unprepared.  I have no idea what kind of questions the prosecution and the defense will ask.  It’s pretty daunting.

I’m also dreading having to describe the abuse in front of everyone.  It was hard enough giving the statement, and that was in front of 3 people (two of which I couldn't see, as they were filming it).  So yeh, I’m dreading it.

I’m also wondering what he is doing right now.  Is he as worried about tomorrow as I am?  More so?  And I hate myself for this, but a part of me feels sorry for him.  Part of me still cares about him.  I know that is the abused child in me talking.  I know he groomed me, he molded me into his perfect little victim and he didn't give a rat’s ass about me.  But a tiny part of me still cares about him.  And I hate myself for it.

It’s difficult to explain why.  I don’t even understand why.  This man stole my childhood, my innocence.  He abused me for 5 years and he raped me.  So why the hell is there a part of me that feels guilty for putting him through this, why do I feel like I’m betraying his trust?  It doesn't make any sense.  I want to see him rot in jail; I want to see him punished for what he did to me.  But I also feel sorry for him.

So yeh, my emotions are all over the place at the minute.

And it’s just hit me – if the defense has the link to my blog, then that means he does as well.  Has he read what I've said?  I don’t edit my blog – I say it how it is.  I want people to realise the devastation that abuse and rape causes, and the only way to do that is to be completely honest with myself and everyone that reads this.  Which I guess includes him now.

I hate the fact that he could read my blog.  He’s already taken so much from me, why did he have to take the place where I write my unedited feelings down?  Not only did he mold me in to his very own toy, not only did he steal my childhood and corrupt my view on relationships, now he’s taking the one place where I can write openly about the impact his abuse has had on me.

That really, really sucks.  But I’m not going to stop writing.  He made me this way, he made me weak.  I’m not weak anymore and I’m not going to let him stop me from writing this blog.  I will not be silenced.

As you can see, there are some very conflicting emotions there.  I hate him, I despise him.  But a tiny part of me still cares about him.  And I hate that part of me so much – but not as much as I hate him.  Which I guess shows just how much work I need to do to forgive him.  I'm no where near forgiving him yet.

2 weeks

In exactly two weeks the trial will start.  I'm getting more and more nervous.  I'm worried about the defense lawyer interrogating me.  I'm worried the jury won't believe me and he'll get off.  I'm just worried.

I'm also angry.  There wasn't enough evidence to charge him with my rape, instead he's being charged for sexual abuse spanning 5 years.  It should be him that's worried about the trial, not me.  As a rape victim, my past will be put on trial, not his.  And I find that unbelievable.  It frustrates and angers me.  And it terrifies me.  What will the defense say?  That at at 12 years old I wanted it?  From what I've heard, this is exactly what the defense says.  And a lot of the time the jury believes them.

So yes, I'm terrified.  I'm also ill at the moment.  It is the worst possible time to be ill.  I need to have all my wits about me for the trial, I can't afford to be ill at the trial.  So off to the doctor's I go.  Let's hope that I'm better in a few weeks.

The trial is constantly on my mind.  Which means that what he did to me is constantly on my mind.  It's making me tired, scared and drained.  But I've found something else to take my mind off it.  I'm hosting a murder mystery part on the Saturday after the trial for my birthday.  I'm throwing myself in to organising it, as it helps to take my mind off it.  It also gives me something to look forward to.  I'm dreading the trial, but I'm looking forward to my party.

And I know that no matter what happens at the trial, no matter what the results are (which I should find out on the Friday), I'm going to have a great party and have fun.  I'm going to move on with my life, and I'm going to enjoy my life.

He took my innocence and my childhood.  I'll be damned if he's taking the rest of my life as well.

His plea

Normally, writing in here helps to keep me calm. It gives me the opportunity to sort through my thoughts and speak my mind. However, since I found out what my rapist is pleading, I've been feeling extremely deflated and haven't had the energy to write in here.

I found out on Wednesday that he has pleaded 'not guilty' to all accounts - including those charges where the evidence is rock solid. I honestly didn't expect him to plead not guilty to all 43 charges. So, we're definitely going to trial. A trial date has also been set, and arrangements have been made for me to visit the courthouse and the courtroom before the trial starts.

So, how do I feel about this? Shocked. Angry. Tired. Empty. I had always thought that he would plead guilty to the charges where the evidence is overwhelming, and not guilty to my charges. Now there is a chance - a tiny chance, but a chance nonetheless - that he could be found not guilty on all charges, and he could walk. In which case, this has all been for nothing.

Except, I must remember, it hasn't been for nothing. The people in his life have been made aware of the kind of person he is. He is now on the police radar. And I will face him - no longer is he a monster I my nightmares, but a man. A man that no longer has any control over me.

I will be honest - I am absolutely dreading the trial. I have heard so many horror stories about what the defence puts rape victims through on the stand. Instead of putting him on trial, my character and sexual history will be put on trial. I am dreading being interrogated by his lawyer. But, I know I am strong enough to handle it. I know I will probably break down and cry on the stand (something which I am not looking forward to) but it will not destroy me. I'm ready. Terrified, but ready.

I wish it was all over. I want to enjoy the few remaining weeks of university, I want to spend time with my friends. I want to enjoy the summer balls. I want to have fun, and not worry about facing the man that abused me for 5 years.

I will be behind a curtain, so he can't see me and I can't see him. Part of me is relieved. But part of me wants to see him. The last time I saw him was when he raped me. I have only ever seen him when he abused me. I would like to see him in a setting where I am safe, where he can't hurt me and where I can show him that he has no power over me. Maybe one day. I agreed with the decision to give my testimony from behind a curtain, because I know it would take a lot out of me to see him. But one day, I do want to see him, to prove to him and to myself that I am the stronger one. I want to see him so that every time I close my eyes I don't see his face when he's finished raping me.

So, yes. This week has been tough. I went home to gather my thoughts and get some much needed TLC. But, I am now ready to go back to university and enjoy the last couple of weeks with my friends. I'll be damned if I'm going to let him stop me from having fun.

A&E

I was taken by ambulance to hospital last week. Turns out I damaged a ligament in my back by putting a joint out of place. I was staying at a friend's house, when I realised I couldn't move. I tried standing up, but the pain was too much. So an ambulance was quickly called.

The paramedics were two men. They seemed nice enough. But even though I was in a lot of pain, the fact that I was in an enclosed space with two unknown men made me very uncomfortable. I was very relieved when my friend decided to come with me in the ambulance. If she hadn't, I think I would have had a panic attack.

My blood pressure was extremely high. The fact that one of the men kept leaning over me and touching my back didn't help. I had to remind myself; 'these men are doing their job. These men are here to help me'. It was still difficult though.

It's no secret that I'm uncomfortable around men. I'm extremely wary of them. I realise that this isn't fair to men, as most men wouldn't hurt a woman. But I can't help it - men that I don't know make me uncomfortable. It took me a long time to be comfortable around my male friends at uni. There was no way I was going to be comfortable around these two paramedics.

I was given morphine and gas to help ease the pain. It didn't work. I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that I didn't want to be out of it? Yes, I wanted the pain to go away, but I didn't want to be knocked out, I needed to be aware of what was going on around me, what they were doing.

The paramedics said the pain musn't be that bad if I'm still paying attention to my surroundings. I was desperately trying to hold back my tears and stop myself from telling him that this was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life - and I've felt a lot of pain, haven broken bones, torn muscles, used to be a self-harmer etc. I just had to know what they were doing, I couldn't afford to let myself become knocked-out and vulnerable.

Luckily, when we got to the hospital, my Mum was there waiting for me. I was put in a room and given 5 different painkillers to take as well as some more gas. That did the trick. I was pretty out of it. I seem to remember telling my Mum that I felt like the caterpillar from Alice In Wonderland, because I kept inhaling the gas.

After about 6 hours I was sent home, with an appointment to see a chiropracter on Friday.

Thinking back now, I feel sorry for the paramedics. They were doing their jobs, they were helping me. But I let my fears take over and wouldn't let them do their jobs. I guess it's something I have to work on. I need to get it through my head - most men are not evil. Most men are not rapists. Most men are nice. It's just difficult for me to actually believe that. But I'm working on it.

Me

Recurring nightmare

I have a recurring nightmare. I have it at least once a week, normally more.

In my nightmare, I'm preparing to go on a game show. I'm ushered in to a small room and I await my turn to go on stage. There's a TV in the little room, so I can see what's going on stage. As I watch the TV, I start to become more and more nervous. Eventually, someone comes to fetch me and I have to walk through another room backstage. His wife and parents are in this room. They stop talking and glare at me as I walk past. I can see the pain behind their eyes. They start whispering to each other.

'There she is, it's all her fault.'

Their eyes follow me as I'm led from the room. I can feel their hatred towards me seeping in to my soul. I try not to think about it, but a thought runs through my head; 'it's because of me that they're hurting'.

I'm taken on to the stage and have to sit in a booth. In front of me I can see the audience; one side of the audience consists of my friends and family. The other side consists of his friends and family. There are also some strangers with no connection to either of us; they just want to be in the audience of the show.

On the stage to the right of me are the judging panel. There are about 6 of them. All of them are sitting there, staring at me. He is sitting in another booth to the left of me.

The host of the game show starts to ask questions, trying to burn holes into both of our stories. He makes jokes as he asks the questions. I'm trying desperately not to cry, while he is sitting there; laughing along to the jokes. He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world. It's just a game show.

When we've finished answering the questions, it's time for the panel to talk amongst themselves. They have to decide who they believe.

While they're deciding, a band comes to play on stage. Everyone is enjoying themselves. I'm sitting in my booth, shaking. I can't understand how people can be enjoying this so-called show. How can they be listening to music, while something so momentous is going on?

Once the panel has reached their decision, the host asks the audience what they think. The audience has to press a button, and their verdict comes up on a graph on a screen. Most of the audience votes 'innocent'. The host then says 'well we know what the audience think, but what do the panel say? Remember, it's their vote that counts.'

Just as the panel are about to deliver their verdict, I wake up.

I don't think it takes a brain surgeon to work out what the dream is about and why it has me so upset. I wake up with sweat running off me, shaking. I have to remind myself that it was just a dream.

As a child, I thought the world of him. As a teenager I feared him. As an adult I will face him.

I'm very aware that my dream represents my teenage fear. I just need to remind myself that I will not be facing him as a child or a teenager. He has no hold over me anymore. I am an adult, and I have a team of people around me that are in my corner fighting with me.

He doesn't so much scare me. I can face him. In fact I want to face him. I want to put my adolescent fears to rest and face him as the strong woman I am now. He does not scare me. But the thought that he could get away with what he has done terrifies me.

Me

Fear

When you've been raped, or assaulted, it changes your whole world. You always knew that the world can be a dangerous place and that you should be careful. But (everyone always says this, I know), you never think it will happen to you. You never think that someone - someone you know, or a complete stranger - will hurt you.

So when it does happen, it turns your world upside down. You realise what a horrible and dangerous place this world can be. You realise that there people out there that don't think twice about hurting you. Suddenly, every place you visit has the possibility of being dangerous. Every person you meet could possibly hurt you.

Being so close to danger makes you think about your own immortality and vulnerability. The world isn't a safe place, someone could come at you any minute and hurt you again. Actually realising that, knowing that, shakes you to the core. Being powerless to stop yourself from being violated and hurt, knowing that there is nothing you can do, that you are at the mercy of someone else - there are no words to describe that feeling. Everything you knew about the world dissappears and is replaced with the knowledge that your body, your life, isn't always yours to control.

And that is terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

After the rape happened, I tried to block it out. I tried to pretend it didn't happen. I tried to act normal. Then I went to university and threw myself in to life there. I went to lectures, did my work and enjoyed student life. Then one night, the bubble I had tried to build around what had happened to me, burst. I was out clubbing with my friends when I managed to get seperated from them. I ended up dancing with this guy, another student, who then proceded to grope me. He had his hand around my wrist and wouldn't let me leave. His hands were all over my body, feeling me. I couldn't get away, and the people around me just ignored what was happening. I completely freaked out. Eventually, one of my friends found me again, and the man left. But I was shaken. I was close to tears and was completely and utterly terrified.

The first thing I did when I got back the halls of residence was have a shower. By being groped, all the pain, shame and fear of being abused and raped came flooding back to me. I broke down in tears, sobbing and shaking in the shower. Something then switched in my mind - no longer could I pretend everything was fine. Nothing was fine. I had been groomed and sexually assaulted as a child, raped as a teenager and forcibly felt-up as a student. The world was a horrible and dangerous place. I wasn't safe anymore. There was a potential threat everywhere.

I refused to leave my apartment at the halls of residence. I locked myself away - refusing to even go downstairs to check the mail. The only place I was safe was inside. If I tried to leave the flat, I ended up having a panic attack - breaking out in a cold sweat, shaking and gasping for breath. I couldn't bring myself to confront the world, it was just too dangerous.

Luckily, my friends and family were extremely supportive - though they couldn't understand what had made me develop this fear of the outside world. The staff at the university were also very supportive and allowed me to do everything online.

Eventually I came to a realisation; if I didn't do something now, I would develop full-blown agoraphobia and end up living my whole life indoors. I didn't want to leave the flat, but I knew I had to. So, after a month of not leaving my apartment, I started to go to counselling. It was terrifying. I was shaking with fear. The only thing stopping me from breaking down in the street crying, were two of my friends. They said that they wouldn't leave my side and that I would be okay. They took it in turn to walk me to my counselling session and wait for me. I honestly think that without them, I wouldn't have found the strength to leave the apartment.

Eventually, I was able to go to shops - but only if someone was with me. I started to venture out more and more. The breakthrough came when I was able to go down and get my mail - alone. Then when I was out with a friend, she went to the toilet, and I was able to stand there outside the toilets, by myself.

I was still absolutely terrified of the world, but I knew I couldn't live my life caged in.

I'm a lot better now, but there are still things I refuse to do. I refuse to walk anywhere alone at night. Even if it's twilight and the place I want to get to is 5 minutes away - I will not walk there alone. I will find someone to walk with me, or I will drive or take a taxi. If I'm going somewhere and I know I will be there for a while and it will be dark when I want to go home, I will drive there. One or two times I've walked alone in the dark - and I've always regretted it as I ended up working myself in to a right state; heart pounding, sweat dripping, adrenaline flowing etc. It's not worth getting myself in such a state.

People think I'm being lazy or weird - but I refuse to do it. This does mean that I sometimes miss out on social events, but I figure it's a small price to pay.

I still get frightened - a lot. Most people don't realise, as I can come across very confident and strong, but a part of me is still scared. No matter where I am, I always know where the nearest escape route is. If I'm walking around, alone, during the day, I always have my keys on hand, ready to defend myself. I try to always be aware of my surroundings and the people near me.

It also takes me time to trust people. I once trusted a man, and he ended up hurting me, badly. So I'm careful with who I trust. Once I trust someone, I will be at ease around them. It takes a lot to trust someone, but it also takes a lot to break that trust.

I know that there are horrible people out there. However, I know that most people are decent human beings that wouldn't dream of hurting anyone. That doesn't stop my fear though, but it is something I'm learning to control.

Maybe one day I'll be able to walk to the corner shop alone when it's twilight. But right now, that day is a long way away.

Me

I identified him

It's just gone 1AM on Saturday morning. I am yet to fall asleep. I want to stay up until I am absolutely exhausted, so that I'll be too tired to dream (or to remember my dreams). I don't want to dream about him.

I was on edge all day yesterday (Friday). I tried to eat, but couldn't bring myself to stomach more than a few bites. I tried to busy myself with anything - but I kept thinking about what lay ahead. I was dreading it and just wanted it to be over.

Finally, the time came to drive to the identification unit of the police station (the detective on my case was kind enough to travel up here, instead of me having to travel down there). I sat in the car and my Mum (Dad drove down in his car) keyed in the address on the SatNav. I got a shock when she said the name of the street that the station was on - it was his name. I thought that must be an omen, but couldn't decide whether it was good or bad.

I also think I may have damaged my Mum's hearing - I played my music extremely loud and sang (or rather, shouted) along with the songs. I wanted the music to drown out my thoughts.

Eventually we arrived at the station and one of the officers led the three of us in to a waiting room. I tried to distract myself by reading the posters that was up on the wall.

One of the posters was of four handwritten letters, sent by children. The children had obviously been on a school trip to the station. It said something along the lines of 'I had a great time and enjoyed standing in the line-up. I was number 7 and my friend was number 8. I hope I never have to be in that room again.'

That got me thinking. None of us imagine having anything bad happen to them, and none of us can imagine doing anything that warrants them a trip to the police station. I know I certainly didn't imagine myself standing in a police station waiting to identify the man that groomed, exploited and raped me. And I'm sure he would never have thought himself capable of doing that. He was once a child himself - what had he been like? What made him turn in to the monster that he is?

Then another officer came and led me into a separate room. I had to answer some routine questions and then I was told to face the computer. I was told that 9 short video clips will be played. I wasn't to comment or say anything until they had played through twice. The videos started playing. I was nervous. I was so scared I wouldn't recognise him.

Number one - it wasn't him. Number two - not him. Number three - looked a bit like him, but not really. Number four - not him. By this point I'm thinking 'oh God, what if he's not here? What if he is and I just haven't recognised him?'. Number 5 - I stop breathing. It's him. My mind goes blank, I can just see him. He's changed over the years, but it's definitely him. I barely even notice the other 4 people.

After the second time, the officer asks if I would like to see any clips again. I say number 5. I need to see him again. I don't want to - but I need to. This is the first time in six years that I've seen him - I want to scream at him, I want to shout. I want to see if he has a conscience. I want to know that he knows that what he did was wrong and hurt and changed me in so many ways. But of course - none of this happens. All I'm looking at is a 15 second video clip.

I identify him as the man that raped me. I am then led back in to the waiting room. My parents asked me how it went - I couldn't answer them, I had to rush to the toilet. I sat over the toilet, dry heaving. I felt sick to my stomach. Seeing him had completely thrown me. I realised though that I wasn't going to be sick, as I had an empty stomach.

Sitting back with my parents, we waited for the detective on my case to join us. It's a new detective that I haven't met before, as the other one has been promoted and is no longer in the same unit. I like the new detective, she seems very nice and a hard-ass - the perfect mix. I like that she's fighting with me, I like that she wants to see him punished.

She said that yes, I had identified the man that they had arrested. I breathed a sigh of relief - by this point I had been second-guessing myself. 'What if I picked the wrong man?' I didn't think I had, but the insecurity was there.

Now it's just a waiting game. Waiting for more evidence to be collected. Waiting for reports to be filed. Waiting for, hopefully, charges to be filed. The detective thinks that it will all be finished in less than 6 months.

Right now, my head is all over the place. I still feel slightly sick about seeing him. I feel relieved that that part is over. Angry at him. I'm also aware that it's not just me he has to deal with - it's my family, my friends and the police. I am not in this alone. He will never be able to hurt me again.

Yet every time I close my eyes, I can see him staring out at me from inside the computer. It felt like he was looking right at me. And I stared straight back at him.

I'm ready to fight him. I'm done hiding away from him. He knew me as a weak girl - he's going to get a shock when he realises I am a strong woman.

Me

Twenty minutes

I'm in the city where he raped me. It's a big city. It's the biggest city in the UK. I'm here for a 3-day course. The course starts tomorrow and I'm very excited about it. I want to be on this course.

Yet right now, I can't sleep. My hotel is very close to where the course is held. Yes, it's a big city. I'm just very aware of the fact that the place where he raped me is less than 20 minutes from my hotel. The thought that keeps going round and round in my head is 'twenty minutes'. That place is the place that plagues my dreams and turns them into nightmares, and it's so close to me.

It also means he won't be far from here either. The place where it happened isn't far from where he lived. Which means he's not far from me.

Everywhere I look I'm seeing him.

My Mum wanted to come with me to offer me support. I declined her offer. I've travelled alone so many times I've lost count - I'm not about to let fear stop me from being independent. I do not want to be afraid. I refuse to let him stop me from enjoying myself. I know the probability of seeing him is beyond miniscule and really, what is there to be afraid of? He can't hurt me anymore - there's no way in hell I'm letting him hurt me ever again. So what exactly am I scared of?

I suppose part of me is still that scared and trusting child that he hurt and molded and almost destroyed. I know I'm an adult. I have grown a hell of a lot since he last saw me. I'm not the meek little girl I once was. I am a strong woman, not a weak, frightened child. Yet a part of me will always be that child. I put my trust in this man and he betrayed me, badly. He stole my innocence, he stole a part of me that I will never get back.

I fear him because he took a part of me. I fear him because he hurt me. I fear him because when I remember him I remember the weak child I once was.

As I said before, the chances of seeing him are tiny. I am not going to hide myself away in my hotel room just because there's less than 1% chance of running in to him. In fact - I went out for dinner with an old friend of mine and I had a lovely time.

I'm just very aware of where I am and I know I'm extremely jumpy and wary right now. Being this close to where it happened and where he lives also means that memories are coming flooding back; hence why I can't get to sleep. I don't want another nightmare about him and with all these memories and fears, the chance of not having a nightmare about him is small.

It's just that, in the back of my mind there's a small voice whispering 'twenty minutes'.

I won't let him beat me though. I am going to enjoy this course and I'm going to enjoy seeing friends while I'm here. He's not going to stop me. I will not let him ruin my time here. Now let's hope that I can put on my armor and stop myself from being so damn jumpy and wary.

Me