Police Did Nothing

by Amanda B
(England)

My stepfather would come into the bathroom and touch me whilst I was in the bath. Sometimes I would have to have a wash by the sink. Every time I washed I'd be molested by him or after I finished he would check my vagina was clean sometimes I would have to go down stairs naked to the front room where he’d do the same thing. After this, he went a step further.

When I was ten, he put me on a closed toilet seat and placed his fingers up inside me saying he was checking for spots. My mother was working nights at a factory. It wasn’t until I got a bit older did I realize what he was really doing.

We were so frightened of my stepfather, as he was aggressive. For example, when I was really young, I was sitting on his lap and he punched me so hard in the stomach I flew from one side of the front room to the other. I couldn’t breathe due to the impact of the punch. I thought I was going to die.

My mother and stepfather would fight like cats and dogs. I would often hear my mother walk out in the early hours saying she was leaving. I remember praying to god that she came back as I didn’t want to be left alone with him.

I remember when my half-sister was born he threw her down because she wouldn’t stop crying. It’s surprising he didn’t kill her.

I was so frightened that my stepfather would eventually force me to have sex with him, and knowing I’d never be able to live with the fact that my stepfather took my virginity, I picked a random boy to take my virginity. I was only 12 years old but it was the right choice to make even though I was too young.

One particular day, whilst my aunty and uncle were in our kitchen, my mother said to them she was leaving for good. I believed her, which gave me enough courage to tell them what was happening to me. My mother took me to the police station where I made a statement against my stepfather. We then went into a battered wives home. The police did a rape test on me whereby they discovered I’d had sexual intercourse.

We stayed at the battered wives home for 6 weeks whereby my mother became increasingly mentally abusive towards me, calling me a slag. Then my mother returned home with all of us. I think because I’d had sex, my mother didn’t believe me, neither did the police.

Once we all returned home: One day whilst I was washing up plates, he went to touch my breasts. I pushed his hand away and he said, “Do you want to go on the CB tonight?” (Citizen Band radio) I replied yes, and he said, “Well leave me alone then.” Luckily for me, my friend knocked our front door just at the right time, and he left me alone.

I would sleep with all my clothes on. Then one morning, I awoke to see my stepfather standing at the end of my bed with his dressing gown wide open. I could hear his heavy breathing. He then came to sit at the side of my bed and he grabbed my hand and said touch it pulling my hand to him. I said, “no” and he put his fist to my face saying, “do you want this!” I replied, “I’ll scream.” With that, he got up and left my room. It must have only been 7 a.m. I then heard him shout to my mum who was sleeping at the time, “Who’s left the iron on!” Shortly after I heard the front door close. He had gone to work. I got up straight away went down stairs, took a bottle of paracetamols (acetaminophen) and my dog and walked out the front door. I’d just turned 13 years as it was just after Christmas. I didn’t think to take water with me.

I walked the streets of our community, crying, swallowing the tablets. I eventually ended up in a park outside my best friend’s house, and sat on a swing. I think I swallowed 40 paracetamols and couldn’t swallow anymore as my mouth was dry. I was sitting on the swing and a man walked by and asked if I was okay and I replied, “Yes” once he was out of sight. I cried and cried. the first act of kindness from a complete stranger when my own family couldn’t show me kindness.

I had no choice but to take my own life. I’d told the police, made statements, told my mother, and no one believed me. Even my brother was calling me sick. I was getting very cold so I decided to walk back home to lie in my bed to die. I’d only been in my bed a few minutes when my mother woke up screaming at me calling me a sl*t and telling me to come downstairs to help her tidy up. That’s when I told her I’d taken an overdose.

An ambulance was called by my mother and I remember being in the hospital for 2 weeks. I was given a social worker and as it wasn’t safe for me to go back home, I went into care voluntarily. I stayed in care for nearly a year, but the manager was also a pedophile, so I had to run away from him, as not one of the staff believed us.

I returned back home, and as soon as I was old enough to leave home I did. I was living in a bedsit, but my boyfriend and I decided to live up north. I was beaten up pretty badly and started to show signs of being mentally unstable. I was eventually tipped over the edge when my boyfriend and I split up forcing me to return back home. I had a mental breakdown as I couldn’t cope with going back into that abusive environment again. My stepfather was still there, and he had everyone believing him. He killed my dog by the way.

My family say to everyone that I am crazy. My stepfather only admitted to the checking after washing and was given a caution for sexual assault. The pedophile at the care home was taken to court years later by one boy. The pedophile committed suicide as a result.

My whole family is mentally abusive, and I have very little to do with them, as they tell everybody I’m just crazy.