Let the music do the talking

Today is the anniversary of my rape.  Instead of using words to describe what I'm feeling, I thought I'd let the music I've been listening to do the talking.


Tori Amos - Me And A Gun:  Lyrics


Linkin Park - Easier To Run


Evanesence - Going Under


Metallica - Until It Sleeps


Black Stone Cherry - Holding On... To Letting Go: Lyrics


Christina Aguilera - Fighter

The problem

All in all, I'm doing alright.  I'm getting my life back on track.

But sometimes I feel as if I'm not doing it fast enough.  I feel as if people are thinking "you've got the guilty verdict, you've got the amazing sentencing, everything worked out so much better than expected - so why aren't you healed?  Move on with your life already".

I feel like there is a huge expectation for me to suddenly be magically better.  It feels like I shouldn't have any problems anymore.  It seems like people expected all of my problems to disappear with the guilty-verdict.  I can see their point - the perpetrator of those crimes is behind bars, and will be for a long, long time.  Believe me - that thought alone still makes me want to do a little happy dance and shout with joy.  I feel like my life is just starting while his is over.

So what's the problem, you ask?

The problem is I still have nightmares.  The problem is that I still have triggers that will bring back a memory I'd rather not remember.  Not a flashback - those are awful, and thankfully, they are very infrequent - but a very vivid memory.  One can pop up at any time and knock the breath out of me.  I still haven't figured out all the triggers - certain music, a turn of phrase, a topic of conversation, a smell, a picture...

The problem is that his face still pops in to my mind when I close my eyes.  I'm not scared of him anymore, I could look him in the eye.  But it's still not a face I want in my mind before going to sleep.

The problem is that I still flinch.  I'm still wary.  I still don't trust.

I want more than anything to be 'normal'.  To go to bed before 4am and wake up before noon.  To finish university, to hold a steady job, to be able to provide for and look after myself.  I'm getting there, slowly.  But it's going to take time.  Hopefully by the time university starts again in October, I'll be ready.

But right now, I'm not.  I know full well that I am still a mess.

Memories that I had buried, are now coming to the surface.  I'd rather forget them.

I feel like people expect me to be better and to be this strong woman that can handle anything, when in fact, I still have days where I can barely bring myself to get out of bed.

I know there comes a point where "enough is enough and you need to move on".  The last thing I want to do is 'bore' people with what's going around my head, especially when people have their own things going on.  I don't want to be that person that can't move on with their life.  I don't want to be that person that people avoid talking to because they're stuck in the past.

But at the same time - I'm not magically healed.  There is no set healing time for 5 years of abuse, and rape.  It will take time.  I am going to have bad days.  I am going to be triggered about something.  But I am also going to pick myself up after a bad day and do my damned hardest to make the next day a good day.

The bottom line?  I don't want to be a burden on my friends and family.  I don't want them to feel like I'm wallowing.  I want to get my life back on track.  I know that if I stay in the past, I'll stay hurt and I'll stay a victim.  I can't heal unless I'm in the present and looking towards the future.  I'm working on it.  It's just not always easy.

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.

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.

Worn out

The police have sent me a statement that I need to sign. It's the transcript from the video interview I gave back in February. 81 pages. I have to read each page and sign it at the bottom.

It's horrible.

As I'm reading each page I can vividly remember giving the interview and all the emotions I felt at the time, and I can also vividely remember the events I'm describing.

So far I have read 53 pages. I've read myself describing my rape. I've read myself describing the abuse. Telling the police was hard enough - giving the video statement was emotionally and physically draining. It left me on edge for days afterwards. All those memories that I had tried to push to the back of my mind were suddenly swimming round and round in my head.

And now I'm reading what I said. It feels like a bandage that has been ripped off a wound far too soon.

It's difficult to read the words that I spoke, to know that I am a victim. I try to think of myself as a survivor - but those words that I spoke, written in black and white, those aren't the words of a survivor. Those are the words of a victim. It's difficult to read.

I am completely worn out. Every time I close my eyes I see the events that I described. It's as if I've travelled back in time and am experiencing them again.

If I'm like this now, what will I be like for a trial? I've only just realised how difficult the trial will be. I knew it would be hard, but after reading through my statement again, I've only just realised how completely and utterly drained it will leave me. I will be an emotional wreck. I will be exhausted.

But I'll be damned if I'm going to let that stop me. Yes, I will be a wreck. But I will be stronger for it afterwards. I've survived 5 years of abuse. I've survived being raped. I will survive reading this statement and I will survive the trial.

Stronger

I think Laurie Halse Anderson hit the nail on the head when she said; 'I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid of this; these thoughts, whispers in my mind. Did he rape my head, too?'

I can be enjoying myself and having a great day - talking with my friends, going to lectures. Just a normal day, but a good day. Then suddenly, it hits me. Wham. I was raped. The thought comes from nowhere. You try to surpress it, try to forget. But you can't. It's always there.

Sometimes I'm talking with my friends, we're having a laugh, just enjoying each other's company. Then I'm hit with a memory; I remember his hands, the feel of him. Or I'm watching a movie when suddenly I hear his voice, whispering to me. Or I'm sitting in a lecture when all of a sudden I remember the searing pain that I felt that night.

These thoughts, these memories, they come from nowhere, and they take over. Once you remember something, it's hard to stop other memories from flooding back.

It would be nice to go just one day without a memory invading my thoughts. He took so much from me, why does he have to keep taking my days now? I'm not even safe from him in my mind. He's always there. The memories of him are always there, lurking in the back of my mind. It's as if my brain is deliberately taunting me; waiting until I'm having a good time, before bombarding me with another memory.

It would be nice to go one day without thinking about him, thinking about what happened. I suppose it's normal - it's a part of my life that is still ongoing. As long as the police are still doing their thing and searching for evidence, as long as the CPS are deciding whether or not to go trial, it is still a big part of my life.

I suppose in some ways I have become stronger. In the past, these memories would overwhelm me. I would have to withdraw myself from everything and everyone while I dealt with it. It would leave me in a very bad place. Whereas now I can think to myself 'okay, it happened, you're remembering something, just breathe, realise that you can't hide from your past. Don't try to run from it, let yourself remember, then move on'.

Just because I'm haunted by memories, doesn't mean that I can't enjoy life. I just need to take a minute or two (or half an hour, or however long I need), to ride out the memory. Then I can continue with whatever it was I was doing. I'll be damned if I let him take more of my life than he already has. Yes, those memories will always throw me, but I can recover from them.

I feel stronger now. He completely broke me down, but through God I have found the strength to rebuild myself, and I know that with Him by my side (and my friends and family), I can face anything.

Night

I can't sleep. It's almost 4.30am. I've taken my sleeping tablets, but they don't seem to be kicking in. I'm meant to see the doctor about getting a higher dose, just until all this uncertainty about whether there will be a trial or not, is over. I really should make that appointment soon.

Instead, right now, I'm stuck with all my memories. I want to sleep, I want to drift in to a peaceful sleep and not have any nightmares. I want to dream about nice things - fluffy bunnies and angels. Unfortunately, I've not had those kind of dreams in a long time. Not since he stole my childhood from me.

It's the not knowing that's the hardest part. I've done all I could do. I told the police, I gave them all the information I could give. They gathered all the evidence they could find. Now it's just waiting. Will he see justice? It's the not knowing that's killing me.

I don't even care if he goes to prison for what he did to me, or for something else. I just want him locked up. I want him to face some kind of justice. He's a pedophile, so the chances are high that they'll find something incrimincating. I just hope it's enough to put him behind bars.

Mid-november seems like such a long time away. How am I meant to have a decent night's sleep, knowing all of this is up in the air? Not only do I need to sleep, I need to be functioning - I'm in my 2nd year of my degree, I need to focus on my work. It's not easy though.

Every time I close my eyes, I see him. It's not that I'm scared of him - not anymore. If he tried any of that sh*t that he used to do to me, he'd have another thing coming. I'd kick his ass. No, I'm not scared of him. I'm scared of the memory of him. It's the part of me that's still 12, 13, 14... 17 years old that's scared of him, the him of the past. When he did have power over me. It's the him in my nightmares that I'm scared of.

That's why I want to go to trial - I want to face him, once and for all. I want to look at him and think 'what a horrible, sleazy, pathetic excuse for a human-being'. I want to look him in the eye and have him realise that he hasn't ruined my life, that he doesn't have any control over me. I want to face him and I want him to face justice. I want him to realise that his actions have consequences, that he can't just go around abusing people, abusing kids.

I want to face reality and see him for the pathetic creature he is. In the meantime... in the meantime I'm stuck with the memories of a terrified child. In the meantime, I wait.

In the meantime I'm plagued with horrible thoughts. What if he's abused other kids in the past 5 years? I could have stopped that from happening if I had just told the police sooner. Everyone keeps telling me that I can't control what he does, who he hurts. In my head I know this. But in my heart... I know I will feel guilty if it turns out he's hurt other kids. It will feel like I could have stopped him, but didn't. By me not doing anything, he could have stolen another child's childhood. That weighs pretty heavy on my mind.

I just want this to be over. I just want to know, one way or the other, what will happen.

I just want a decent night's sleep.

Me

Insomnia

I am currently on holiday and using my mobile phone to update my blog. Ah, the wonders of the modern world. I do apologise for any spelling mistakes - using the keypad on my phone isn't the easiest of things.

It's currently gone 3am where I am. I can't sleep. He keeps popping in to my head just as I'm drifting to sleep. This of course makes me jerk awake. So, sleep is impossible. What can I do instead?

Not much. The friend that I'm staying with is asleep in the next room, with no door between our rooms. So watching TV is out of the question. Before you suggest watching it with no sound; I'm in Finland, any subtitles that a show will have is in Finnish. I do not speak or read Finnish. Besides, I doubt there's anything interesting on at this time of the morning anyway.

So TV is out of the question. As is using her laptop to browse the net - it's password protected. So no laptop. What about reading? I've just finished the only book I brought with me. Besides, the light would probably wake her up.

As you can see, there's not much I can do to distract myself. I'll have to stop using my phone to go online soon as well, as it will be costing me a fortune.

It seems that I'm stuck with nothing but unwelcome memories tonight.

I just want to sleep. I'm meant to be up reasonably early tomorrow to do touristy things with my friend. I'm going to be absolutely exhausted. Great.

Why won't my past stop haunting me? Why won't it let me enjoy these few days I have with my friend?

I just want to sleep. Can't he leave me alone for one weekend? He's taken so much from me already, why does the memory of him have to take this weekend as well?

Me

Six years

It has been exactly 6 years since I was raped. Six years. It feels like it was so long ago, yet it also feels like it was only yesterday. I thought I would be 'over' it by now. Not that I think you can ever be 'over' something like this - I just thought that at least I would have learnt how to live with it. Instead, I can still hear his voice and I can still feel his touch. No matter how many showers I have, I will never be clean. No matter what I try and do to block it out, the memories will always find a way to seep into my conscious thoughts.

It started when I was 12. The grooming was a long and slow process. But bit by bit he gained more control over me. Soon I was being sexually exploited. Eventually, the abuse culminated with him raping me when I was 17.

For years I lived with this secret. It was only recently that I started telling people - including my parents, what had happened to me all those years ago. Until then, it had been a massive burden, affecting my every day life.

Although if I'm honest, it is still affecting me. This past week especially. My sleep has been plagued with nightmares, which means I've hardly been sleeping. I'm exhausted. I also have big, black circles under my eyes. I'm avoiding mirrors at the minute - I don't want to see what I look like. I also don't want to look myself in the eye, for fear of bursting in to tears. I'm trying to be strong about everything, but it feels like my walls are slowly crumbling. The last thing I want to do is cry - I fear I may never stop.

I'm on holiday with my Dad at the minute. I don't think he realises what day it is. I don't blame him - my parents know the bare facts about what happened. I don't have the strength to go in to any details with them and they don't want to push me. So they know I was groomed and raped, but that's all. I want to keep it that way - I want them to look at me and see me, not a rape victim.

But as I said - I'm on holiday with my Dad right now. It's our annual father-daughter holiday. The last thing I want to do is ruin it by breaking down. I love our holidays together, I don't want to ruin it. I know he wouldn't blame me at all, but I would blame myself. So I'm trying to keep it together.

I still can't believe it's been six years. A lot of the times, it feels like it happened just yesterday. For so long I tried to forget what happened, I buried it as deep as I could. But now I'm finally addressing it - and it's extremely difficult. Because I tried to forget for so long, I never allowed myself to heal, to try and move on from it. Only recently has the healing really started.

It's still a raw wound though - I'm nowehere near close to being healed. And days like today remind me of the fact that I have a long way to go. When I close my eyes, I see his face. I can hear those awful words he spoke. I can feel his hands.

So today is a difficult day. It's not an impossible day, but a difficult one. I survived the abuse; I will survive this day. I will overcome the pain, I will overcome my memories. I will survive.

Me