A Survivor's Story
My first recollection of abuse was from when I was around 5-6 years old. My real Father had died in an RTA just short of my 6th birthday, although unfortunately I have no memory of him in my life at all, and as such my Mother chose to tell me I was six months old when he died. I only found out how old I actually was when he died when I was 19 and had tracked down through other family members where he was buried, as my Mother and he were separated/divorced. She re-married and they had a son in 1973. My stepfather was physically and mentally abusive prior to my brother's birth. He would throw objects at me, like those solid Scholl wooden sandals. He would aim them for my head, culminating in me suffering from awful migraines for years until a wonderful GP actually listened and gave me tablets to lessen the pain from them. He would delight in dragging me up and down the stairs by my ankles and on one occasion he broke both of them and 35 years on I still have terrible problems with both my ankles. I was not allowed to run, jump or sniff. Basically he controlled every single thing I did. He would beat me if I came in and another child had hit me. His theory was, "If you can't hit back when you're being beaten, then I will beat you until you do".
Not long after my Brother's birth, he stepped his abuse up and proceeded to rape me whilst my mother was out at work. I can still vividly see and hear his Army boots coming towards my bedroom door, him reaching under the bed for me and dragging me out, and saying, "If you tell anyone about this, you will split the family up and never see your mum and brother EVER AGAIN!" At the age of 6, I whole heartedly believed everything this PERVERT said to me. He continued abusing me for about a year. All the while the slimeball of a stepfather was in the Army. He came out of the army in 1974 and we proceeded to squat in various places, until my mother decided to voluntarily place my brother and me into care, as we were homeless.
We were placed with a couple who had two older children of their own, they had these glow-in-the-dark models of Vampires and Werewolves in their bedroom; they scared me out of my wits. They would say to me that if I didn't do as they said, then the monsters would come alive and get me or my brother in the night. Both of these boys molested me for about 2-3 months, whereupon my brother and I were placed back in the care of our Mother and my sicko stepfather. His abuse of me started up again almost immediately. Eventually my Mother couldn't take any more of his abuse towards her, he would use her knee-caps as a dart board, throw a full dinner plate in her face if it wasn't what he fancied to eat, eat all the food so my mother took to hiding food in the twin-tub washing machine she had, all the while she was trying to hold down various low paid menial jobs just to support us. However she would also leave us both in the d*******'s care, where he would seize his opportunity to enjoy himself at my expense; I thank god he never sexually abused my brother.
My brother and I were eventually taken back into care as our mother had a breakdown. The first children's home we were in was, as far as I can remember, very nice; all the staff were great, as were the children, however my Brother and were transferred into another children's home in 1976. This children’s home had a lot of older children who were housed in a separate wing, but we all could mix with each other during the day. Whilst my brother and I were at this home, there was 5 different boys all under the age of 16 but definitely over 13 years old, who would systematically abuse me, whenever and wherever they could. Whilst I was alone with these boys, they took turns to sexually abuse me while the others would watch. My Brother was put up for Adoption and was adopted in 1978. Our Mother had chosen to put him up for adoption as she says, "I wouldn't have to have anything to do with his father coming round for access visits" although I am sure there were 'contact centres' in the 70s whereby she wouldn't have had to have seen the abusive d*******. However, my brother was adopted and I have since found out that she gave him up because the man she was then (and still is) involved with, couldn't handle my younger brother being an awkward toddler. NOT SURPRISING HE WAS AWKWARD CONSIDERING WHAT HE WENT THROUGH AND WITNESSED!!!!!!
When my younger brother was adopted in 1978 that was the last I saw of him until 2002 when I finally traced him. We are in contact and he is still MY LITTLE BROTHER, and always will be even though he towers over me.
My abuse continued until I came out of care in the September of 1978. I was then in the care of my Mother and her boyfriend. I was transferred to a local primary school which I hated as I had to leave all my friends. The caretaker seemed a nice friendly man, but he went on to abuse me in the basement of the school. I can still remember his words 'phwoar I could make a lot out of you!!' It wasn't until I was much older I realised what he actually meant!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was not allowed to ask questions about my brother, or even speak about him, but I was expected to welcome my Mothers boyfriend’s son into our home as his own Mother couldn't cope with his behaviour anymore, so I had to share my bedroom with him without batting an eyelid. He then proceeded to abuse me up until he went into a boarding school 2 years later. Things then calmed down for while, but I was very promiscuous at school. I had sex with a number of lads from my area as well as my school. Probably searching for some form of love in the only way I knew how at that time!!
All the while trying not to remember what had gone on, my mother on bad days, if I was naughty, would say things to me like, "Shame abortion wasn't around when I fell pregnant with you, as if it were, you wouldn't be here!!!!!" and "I HAD to have you back as you were both put up for adoption but no-one wanted you as you were too old to be adopted!!!"
She would leave me with any strange person to be babysat whilst she and her boyfriend went out to parties, or had parties at the flat. I was sometimes told to sleep in their bedroom, and I can still remember waking to the sounds of them having sex less than 2 feet away from me.
I then went on to get married and had two lovely children, but my marriage was not to be, as I was living a lie. I really couldn't commit properly with a man, so I came out as gay. My mother cut off all ties with me, which hurt at the time. We did reconcile for a while. After my marriage had broken down, my stepfather would call round approximately once or twice a week, to see how we all were (he said) but on one occasion he said something to me that I have never ever repeated to a living soul as, for him to say that to his stepdaughter in my mind, is way too disgusting to ever repeat!!!!!! Then 2-3 weeks later my stepfather, who my mother had married some years before, came round to my house as he said he wanted a chat with me. He went on to say about things that happened when I was 14 when my mother thought he was having an affair. He stated he wasn't and that he was having what he called 'improper' thoughts towards me, and he was scared of acting on them so he was talking to a female friend of his. We continued this chat and when he got up to leave he came towards me to give me a goodbye kiss on the cheek (or so I thought) but he proceeded to say, "Please Jen, don't make me wait another 14 years to do this" and he went to stick his tongue down my throat. I pushed him away and shouted at him, "DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!" He then left my house. The relationship with my mother had stopped again. I moved home and I stopped all contact with him, but he traced me to where I was working, promising me that he would never do that again and would I please give him a second chance. I told him no way. Sometime after that I rang my mother, and he answered the phone. This happened several times and each time I put the phone down on him, until I eventually got hold of my mother, who then asked me, "Why do you keep putting the phone down on your Dad?" I replied, "Don't worry about it, just leave it", as I didn't want to be the one she blamed (yet again) for her marriage break up as in my 'care paperwork', it states that my mother thought that I was the focus point of their marital problems. However, eventually I did tell her what he did. She promised me that she would get to the bottom of it and call me back. Well call me back she did but get the truth HELL NO. He said I had made it all up to cause them to spilt up, and she sided with him. Years passed with no contact, and then we were back in tentative contact. One day whilst we talking on the phone, she asked my why I was never home on a particular afternoon, so I told her I was having counselling. Her reply to that was, "Well aren't you the lucky one." I said, "I do not consider it lucky to be in the frame of mind I am, and have to have counselling to understand and try to come to terms with being sexually abused as a child". She asked me, "What the hell do you mean?" so I told her about the abuse in care as well as her 2nd husband abusing me. Her reply to that will stay with me until the day I die. She said, "Oh so you're saying that 'MP' sexually abused you are you? Good, I have waited years to get my own back on him. Great, I will call the police!!" I replied, "Well it's not about you for a change; it's about me, and I am telling you that I will not be pursuing this through legal channels." Needless to say she was not happy about that!!!!!!!!!!!! The strangest thing about her alleged 'shock' at my abuse revelation was that it wasn't or shouldn't have been a shock at all, as when I was in care, I was taken to my GP’s with my mother. One of the staff from the children’s home, and also a WPC was present whilst I was examined. Why would a WPC be present for a child's consultation with a GP??
Some months later my mother asked me if I would come to visit her in Wales, which I did in the hope that we could salvage some of our relationship. One morning, my Mother asked me about the abuse which in her words, "You allege there was abuse; well go on, I am listening." After the initial shock of her asking that question over Tea and toast, I told her what happened. I did tell her everything about the abuse I suffered at the hands of the 5 in the children' home. Her reply was astonishing: "What is it with this family? Anything goes wrong and you always blame it on to sexual abuse. I think you are warped." I said to her, "Well pardon me for living; my brother and I never asked to be put into care, and I certainly never asked to be abused." The rest of the visit was strained to say the least. Eventually after 4 days I went back home. Our relationship was far from perfect, and at every given moment when she was annoyed for any reason she would blame it on me, like - "The reason your stepfather is impotent is because of you saying those horrendous lies." LIES THEY ARE NOT BUT BY GOD, WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND!!!!!
"We are splitting up because of your lies." There were many times when I felt like saying to her, "Well if you want to live with a pervert, that's your choice, but don't blame me for his perverse actions!!"
"No-one believes what you said anyway." My answer to that, although I never spoke it, was I never told anyone else???!!!!!
Eventually things came to head in March 2007, when after a long and exhausting round of accusations flying at me from all angles, my Mother rang me up and said, "I have decided that I am staying with Dad and you can stay with W." I replied, "Ok if that's the way you want it, that's fine by me, goodbye" and we haven't spoken since, and I do not ever want anything to do with her or that thing she calls a husband, as my life is so much calmer, less stressful, and I feel that with the counselling, and a great partner, and fantastic friends who are supportive I AM FINALLY GETTING THERE!!!!!
PLEASE NOTE: NAPAC makes every effort to remove all identifying information. Names of perpetrators are only used where there has been a conviction in a court of law. NAPAC is not responsible for the accuracy of the stories.