Stolen Girl (11 page)

‘That’s what you get for being a freak – a Dumbo!’ she laughed.

But something inside snapped.

‘Well, at least I’m not a fat cow like you!’ I screamed.

Everyone gasped and watched as Deborah pulled back her arm. Her fist sailed down on me, striking the side of my head. Pain ripped through my body but I knew I had to fight back. I punched her as hard as I could, catching her in the mouth. It momentarily knocked her off-balance then I noticed her dabbing something on her bottom lip. The force had split it open and now there was blood all over her fingertips. As soon as she saw it she went crazy, like a woman possessed.

‘Right, that’s it,’ she said, slinging her bag on the floor, ‘you asked for this!’

I felt the dirt in my mouth as she pushed my face hard against the dry bare ground.

‘Eat dirt, that’s all you’re good for, you fucking freak!’

The crowd cheered her and jeered me.

‘Freak, freak, freak!’ they chanted in unison, their voices rising.

I squirmed and wriggled enough to break from her grasp but as I tried to fight back a cracking pain to the left-hand side
of my face floored me. I felt my cheekbone crack as a dead weight crunched against it: it was her fist. She smacked me again, this time near the side of my eye; it swelled almost immediately. My head throbbed and my face ached with pain. I felt as though I’d just been hit by a truck. I wanted this to be over with but there was more to come. Blow after blow rained down. I tried to fight back but she was bigger and stronger than me, and egged on by her gang of mates, it was as though she had the strength of ten men. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she stepped away and dusted herself down.

‘Don’t you ever,
ever
speak to me like that again, understand?’ she screamed.

I nodded weakly. I felt sick and dizzy with pain.

Deborah snatched up her bag from the floor.

‘Ugly bitch! No one likes you and they never will. We all hate you ’cos you’re a fucking
freak
!’

She turned and marched off with her friends in tow.

Humiliation flooded through me. Slowly, I picked myself up and dusted my clothes down. I’d seen the crowd and I knew that by first thing tomorrow morning, the whole school would know. Just as my life had started to go well, something had to come along and ruin it. I thought of Sam and my heart ached – I wished he was here now. He’d take care of me, just as he promised. He was my boyfriend – he’d protect me.

My face was sore. It felt puffy and swollen in my hands. I didn’t have to see myself to know I looked a complete mess. I didn’t want Sam or anyone else to see me like this but I knew I’d have to go home.

‘What’s happened to your face?’ Mum gasped as soon as I walked in the flat. ‘Oh my God!’ she said, covering her mouth as she inspected the damage.

‘Phil,
Phil
!’ she screamed. Phil came running through in a panic.

‘It’s Katie,’ she said, ‘she’s been attacked.’ Mum hopelessly dabbed at my wounds with a tissue. It made me flinch.

‘Katie,’ she said, grabbing me by the shoulders. ‘You’ve
got
to tell me – who did this to you?’

I staggered over to the sofa, sank down onto it and then I began to cry. I told her all about the girl at the gate and a bit about the bullying I endured on a daily basis. Mum sat beside me and listened to everything.

‘Right, that’s it!’ she said, jumping to her feet, ‘I’ll see what the Headmaster has to say about this!’

She grabbed the phone and angrily punched in the number.

‘No, Mum,
don
’t!’ I begged. I knew the phone call would make things ten times worse.

‘I don’t care,’ Mum insisted ‘She’s not getting away with this. Look at the state of your face,’ she said, resting her hand against her throat to catch the sob rising inside.

Someone answered on the other end of the line and Mum asked to be put through to the Headmaster. She started arguing down the phone with the secretary and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘This is important, you’ll put me through now!’ she said in a voice I’d never heard before.

Mum eventually spoke to the Head, who promised to look into it, but I didn’t expect much to be done: the bullies ran the school, not him. After the call, Deborah was disciplined and suspended for a week. Mum wanted the police to take action but because the girl was the same age as me, all they could do was give her a caution.

I knew she’d been punished but the attack shattered what
little confidence I had. I refused to return to school despite reassurances from the Headmaster. I felt depressed and wanted to hide away from everyone, including Sam.

‘I’ve been grounded,’ I lied, when he called soon afterwards.

‘What for?’ he asked.

‘Fighting,’ I replied.

I told him all about Deborah, although I didn’t tell him the names she and the other kids had called me – I didn’t want to put him off me.

‘How long are you grounded for?’ he asked.

‘A week, at least,’ I whispered.

‘Must have been some fight!’ he laughed.

‘It was. But I promise I’ll see you soon. I’ll text you, Sam, promise.’

I hated not being able to see him – I felt as if I was being punished. I worried he’d get bored and go off with someone else. But I needn’t have – Sam did wait and when he agreed to meet me once more, I felt so utterly grateful to him.

But I refused to go back to school. The swelling eventually subsided but the bruises took longer to disappear. Lauren, Megan and Beth sympathised but that’s all they could do; they were as frightened of Deborah as I was. In the end, it was a month before I went back and, when I did, Deborah was sitting in my form class. I hoped they’d move her but they didn’t. As soon as I saw her, my heart began to pound with terror. I knew she’d had a caution and wouldn’t dare touch me but she also had mates – lots of them.

‘Look who’s back,’ one sneered when they saw me hovering by the classroom door. It took all the strength I had just to walk in and sit down at my desk.

After that, Deborah left me alone but the threat of violence
was always there. It hung in the air. I knew I’d be punished again, but I didn’t know when or where it would be.

When I finally met Sam he took me to the restaurant. I was so glad to see him that I let him have sex with me again and again. This time he’d brought along some alcohol – WKD Blue. It became my favourite. I loved the sweet taste, like cherryade. As the drugs and alcohol gripped my body, I believed this light, relaxed feeling was love but it wasn’t really. I was high. And when I was high I lost control of my inhibitions and allowed Sam to do all kinds of things to me. Sexually, nothing was out of bounds.

‘I’ve missed you,’ I said, snuggling my head into his big strong neck.

‘Yeah,’ he replied coldly. My heart dive-bombed. It was clear that Sam hadn’t missed me quite as much as I’d missed him.

‘You do love me, don’t you?’ I asked, the words sounding stupid and childish as soon as I’d spoken them.

Sam took a huge drag on the spliff between his fingertips. He shrugged and looked down at the ground but he wouldn’t answer me.

‘Don’t you love me?’ I asked, feeling more stupid by the minute.

I angrily fastened my bra and pulled down my top. I couldn’t explain it but his reaction made me feel cheap and unloved. Still, Sam said nothing.

‘Right,’ I huffed, jumping down off the worktop. I fastened the top button of my jeans and blinked back the tears pricking behind my eyes. ‘If that’s what you think of me…’

‘Hey,’ Sam soothed, wrapping a lazy arm around my shoulder. ‘It’s just a bit of fun, that’s all, Katie.’

‘So you don’t love me?’ I huffed, folding my arms across my
chest. I needed some reassurance and I wanted it now. Sam realised and snaked his arms around my waist. He pulled me close but I resisted – I didn’t want him to think he had it all his own way. I pulled a childish face, a scowl, as if I didn’t believe him.

‘Of course I love you, that’s why I’m with you. I’ve told you, Katie, I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. Hey,’ he said, suddenly changing the subject, ‘do you wanna see some pictures?’

‘Of what?’

Sam grabbed his mobile from the back pocket of his jeans and pulled up different images of cars on the screen.

‘This one’s my favourite,’ he said, his eyes misting over.

I looked but it was just a car to me, it meant nothing. One by one, he flicked through different images of cars. They were all racer-boy cars, souped-up things with big wheels and fancy engines.

‘One day, I’ll have one just like that,’ he insisted, pointing at the screen.

But I wasn’t interested. I didn’t care what car he drove – I loved Sam for who he was, not what he had.

‘See this?’ he said, turning the phone screen towards me again. But I didn’t bother to look because it’d be just another car.

‘That’s my gun,’ he said suddenly.

I stopped in my tracks and glanced at the screen. I saw a photograph of a black handgun. Now he had my full attention.

‘A
gun
?’ I said, as I pulled the phone closer to get a better look.

Sam grinned as I stared harder at the screen: it was a picture of a gun. I suddenly felt frightened. Then it dawned on me, I didn’t really know Sam at all. Maybe I’d got involved with
someone who was in trouble. Maybe he was in a gang – that would explain all the drink and drugs he gave me.

‘Is it…is it
real
? Is it really yours?’ I asked, trying to hide my shock.

Sam nodded. I was stunned. I thought I knew Sam but deep down, I realised I didn’t know anything about him at all. Whenever I asked questions he’d refuse to answer. I was thirteen, but he was eighteen – a grown man. He wanted flash cars and had a picture of a gun on his phone –
his
gun, he said. I wasn’t sure if I believed him but then, I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. The thought stayed with me from that moment on. Maybe Sam was dangerous; maybe he was a bad person who was involved with dangerous things and dangerous people. Or, maybe he was making it all up, just to impress me? Yes, I convinced myself. That was it. It could be a picture from anywhere – a toy gun even. I was just a kid, I wouldn’t know the difference.

But something changed that day and I realised for the first time that I was a little out of my depth. He was older than me and he moved in grown-up circles. I felt naive and foolish. However much I tried to convince myself otherwise, the seed of doubt had been planted in my mind. I knew nothing about Sam, his background or his family – I didn’t even know where he lived. But he knew everything about me. He had sex with me in the back of a restaurant when he knew that no one was around. I didn’t even know how he got hold of the keys. Maybe he’d stolen them?

Then it dawned on me: every time we met he expected sex. At first he’d been gentle but now he didn’t even bother being nice. He brought drugs and alcohol but always expected something in return. That’s what I was there for, so that he could
have sex with me in the back of a restaurant. Things shifted for me and it was as though I was seeing things clearly for the very first time. Having sex in the kitchen of a restaurant wasn’t loving at all; it was dirty and seedy. I started to wonder if Sam had ever loved me or if he’d just been using me all this time.

One night I decided to challenge him. Did he want me or did he just want sex?

When he began to paw at my body I pushed him away.

‘Not tonight,’ I insisted, ‘can’t we just…I don’t know, can’t we just talk or something?’

I sat back on the worktop and buttoned up my top, but Sam wasn’t happy.

‘Talk? We
always
talk!’ He started to shout. ‘What do you want to talk about?’ he said, waving his arms around in a temper.

I could tell he was pissed off with me. He made me feel like I was wasting his time. The expression on his face changed and his eyes narrowed. I started to feel a little frightened but Sam began to laugh.

‘I just want to talk, Sam, that’s all,’ I sighed but he laughed louder and louder. I didn’t understand. He was laughing to himself like he was crazy. It frightened me.

He jumped to his feet and walked over to the door. Stretching up, he reached for the bolt at the top. It was already locked from the inside but he slid the bolt across too. I ran over and tried to unlock it, but I couldn’t get out; I was trapped. I looked up at Sam but he was still laughing and then it hit me: he was laughing at me.

‘I want to go home,’ I said, my voice beginning to shake.

‘No. You’re not leaving here until we have sex,’ he insisted. He shoved me away from the door.

‘Let me out, right now!’ I demanded.

‘Nope,’ he smirked, ‘not until you have sex with me.’

But I didn’t want to have sex with him. I just wanted to talk but Sam had locked me in. I was trapped and I knew he wouldn’t let me go until I’d had sex with him. I was simply terrified.

‘I’m tired, I want to go home. Please let me go,’ I begged.

Sam nodded and for a moment I thought he’d changed his mind. But as soon as I began to relax, I spotted a sickly smirk spreading across his face.

‘Okay, have sex with me and then I’ll let you go.’

I didn’t know what to do. I thought Sam was my boyfriend and I thought I loved him but now I didn’t feel love, only fear. I was trapped and he was forcing me to do something I didn’t want to do. I felt scared and unsure. I’d never been in a situation like it before, and I suddenly realised how stupid I’d been. I’d gotten myself into this mess and I knew there was only one way out. I had no choice – I’d have to do as he said.

With the back door of the restaurant secure from prying eyes, he strode back over and pulled me roughly towards him. I was angry because I didn’t want to do it but I felt weak and powerless. There was no way out: I’d have to have sex with Sam so that I could go home.

As he laid his body on top of mine, I turned my head to the side so that he wouldn’t see my tears. I’d never been frightened of him before, but I was now. I didn’t want to do it but he made me anyway. It was uncomfortable and, for the first time, it hurt. Afterwards, he told me how much he loved me but I didn’t believe him anymore. I was only thirteen years old, but I was old enough to know that you didn’t do things like that to someone you loved.