Stolen Girl (16 page)

Fear rose inside me and the palms of my hands began to sweat. I knew what this meant. I turned and began to walk in the opposite direction but as I did, the first girl followed.

‘Hey, Dumbo!’ she called.

I started to run but the girl ran after me. My feet were moving as fast as they could but my school bag was heavy and it kept slipping off my shoulder, slowing me up.

I felt a shove between my shoulders – the force knocked me off my feet and I landed in a crumpled heap on the ground. I was on my side, winded and unsure what to do. The girl was standing over me and, with one swift movement, kicked me in the back and then began to kick me again and again. An excruciating pain seared up my spine. Humiliation flooded through me as a large group gathered to watch her kicking me like a dog on the ground.

When I finally looked up my heart sank – I spotted my friends standing there. But no one came to my aid, they were too frightened. Instead I took my beating.

Suddenly a man stepped in between us. He’d heard the commotion and came running over.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, helping me to my feet.

He looked at the girl but she ran off.

‘I just want to go home,’ I began to sob.

The others saw my tears and started to snigger. With one look the man silenced them and slowly the crowd dispersed, except for my friends.

Megan and a friend I’d made in computer class called Georgia helped me up. Someone fetched Lauren and she came running over.

‘We’ll look after her,’ they told the man.

‘Okay,’ he agreed.

‘Thanks,’ I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

The Headmaster was still there when we walked back into school. He couldn’t get hold of Mum, so he telephoned my dad, who came straight away. Dad was furious when he saw the state of me. I was shaking and crying hysterically as the shock started to set in.

‘Look at the state of her,’ Dad said, his voice rising with anger. ‘What on earth do you teach the kids here?’

He was standing in the corridor but he was shouting at the Headmaster.

‘I can assure you, Mr Taylor…’ the head began.

‘Oh please, save your breath because I’m not interested. Look at my daughter. It’s no wonder that girl didn’t kill her! What sort of discipline do you have in this school anyway? None, by the look of it.’ Dad’s face was red with rage.

The Headmaster was speaking but he refused to listen.

‘Come on, sweetheart,’ he said, helping me to my feet. ‘I’ll take you back to Mum’s, although God knows what she’ll say when she sees the state of you.’

I didn’t realise how bad my injuries were until I got home.
I looked in the bathroom mirror. My face was exactly the same but something inside had changed: the damage was hidden where no one could see.

Of course, Mum went crackers and shouted at Dad as if it was all his fault. It wasn’t, but Mum was angry and had to take it out on someone.

‘She’s not going back to that school,’ she ranted. ‘Over my dead body!’

The attack had been completely unprovoked. I’d been humiliated a second time in front of what felt like the whole school. This was never going to end. It was only a matter of time before a third or fourth attack. The Head of Year had suspended the girl from school, but only for a few days.

Emotionally, I was a mess. I lived in fear of seeing her again, of coming face to face with her in the corridor. So when Mum said I didn’t have to go back, I felt relieved.

‘I’ll speak to the authorities – there’s no way you’re going back there again.’

I felt glad that I wouldn’t have to see the girl or my other tormentors but sad that I wouldn’t see Lauren, Megan or Beth again either.

The attack stripped away what little confidence I had, and my already low self-esteem made me believe that I truly deserved it. Maybe I deserved to be beaten and abused by others. Maybe that’s all I was good for and all I ever would be.

When Zeb called again and asked me to meet him I tried to refuse.

‘No, I won’t, because last time I did you hurt me,’ I said, my voice trembling with fear.

Zeb sensed it and knew exactly what to say and do to get me to comply.

‘Well, if you refuse to come to the house again, I’ll just have to come and get you.’

‘You don’t know where I live,’ I retorted.

But then he’d got hold of my mobile number; maybe he’d got my address too? I shook the thought from my head. Of course he didn’t know where I lived.

‘Don’t I?’ he whined. ‘Let’s see about that.’

The phone line went dead and he ended the call.

That’s it,
I thought to myself.
It’s over.
I said no, and now it’s over.

Only it wasn’t. Moments later, my mobile rang again: it was Zeb.

‘I know where you live,’ he sang.

‘No you don’t,’ I replied, but my mind was whirring.
Did
he know?

Then he repeated my full address, even my new postcode.

‘How do you know that?’ I gasped.

But Zeb just laughed.

‘That’s what you call contacts, love.’ His voice was cold and menacing.

‘Now meet me or I’ll come and get you. If you don’t, I’ll come there and rape your mum. She’ll get gang raped and I’ll make you watch. Then,’ he added, ‘then it’ll be your turn.’

There was a deathly silence as his threat hung in the air. He knew where I lived. If I didn’t do as he said then he’d come and hurt Mum; he’d do to her what he’d done to me. I tried to speak but fear had stolen my voice.

‘Meet me. Later, about 5pm. Usual place,’ Zeb ordered.

The phone line went dead. I stared down at my mobile in horror. Did he mean it? Would he come for me? Would he rape Mum? I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. All I knew was that
I was terrified of him. I was too scared to go but too frightened not to. I’d have to go, to protect Mum.

I watched the clock. Each second that ticked by felt like another step closer to Zeb. My heart was in my mouth. It was 4pm, only an hour to go until I met him again. He was the most frightening man I’d met in my entire life. I didn’t want to go but I knew I had no choice. Fear gripped me as I glanced out of my bedroom window to the street below. It was a warm day and Mum and Phil were sat on the front lawn in the sunshine, chatting to our new neighbours. Mum had a glass of something in her hand. She laughed and smiled as she clinked it against Phil’s glass. They looked as though they didn’t have a care in the world; she looked so happy and in love. I shuddered when I thought about what Zeb had said he’d do to her if I didn’t meet him.

At that moment, I watched from my upstairs window as two cars approached. They drove slowly along the street and, as they passed my house, they almost stopped as if on purpose. I spotted the men’s faces – there were lots of them and they were all Asian. I didn’t recognise them but I was certain it was Zeb. This was a warning. I had to do what he said. I couldn’t risk it – he knew where I lived and he’d threatened Mum. I had no choice, I had to go.

My heart sank as I climbed into the back of Aban’s car in the usual alleyway.

‘Good girl,’ said Zeb, turning in his seat to pat me on the knee. ‘I knew you’d see sense.’

I trembled when I saw him.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I begged.

Zeb looked at me in mock surprise.

‘Of course I won’t hurt you – I care for you, Katie. I’m going
to take really good care of you. It’ll be different this time,’ he promised. ‘I’ll never hurt you again – that was a one-off. I’m here to look after you, to protect you. You want me to look after you, don’t you, Katie?’

I nodded weakly. I wanted to be protected but I wanted protecting from him, not anyone else. I tried to process what he was saying. My mind raced because I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t forget what he’d done to me last time. The attack had left me fearful of everything and everyone; I had no confidence left. I felt as if life was carrying me along, with others making all the decisions for me. I’d have to do what Zeb said, otherwise I’d be punished. It was madness, of course, but I convinced myself that as long as I kept him happy, everything would be okay.

Only the second time wasn’t different. He held me down in the secret house and raped me again. The only different thing was that I knew where we were going, and I knew he wouldn’t kill me: Zeb wanted to have sex and he did so, again and again. It became so normal that I didn’t even think of it as rape anymore because I’d let it happen. I’d let him do this to me and now I hated myself. Sex was all he’d ever wanted – he didn’t care about me.

‘Don’t tell anyone about me or this house, understand?’ he warned.

I nodded. I wouldn’t dare because I knew if I did, worse things would happen. He’d hurt Mum and me. I knew that Zeb wasn’t frightened of anyone – the only real fear he had was of being caught.

‘
I
’m sure you’ll love it here, Katie.’ The woman smiled as she shook my hand and led me into the new school.

It wasn’t a big building and it didn’t look like a school – it looked more like a prefab unit. It was all on one floor and ironically, given the fact that it was a school for problem teenagers, it was situated right next to the police station. Even though I’d not done anything wrong, I felt like a criminal just being there. But with no places available at other schools, I had very little choice. So, in the end, Mum had agreed.

The school was barren – only two classrooms and one office. The pupils were thin on the ground too; only five children including me.

‘I’m sure you’ll settle in fine,’ the teacher said as she led me into the classroom.

There were four other teenagers in my class – two boys and two girls. They looked up at me as the door swung open and I
stepped inside. Unlike my old school, you didn’t have to wear a uniform. This school was more relaxed and friendly – you even got to call the teachers by their first names. It was odd, nothing like being at school at all.

The other kids were very unwelcoming. The girls were rough-looking; one was pregnant, although she was only fourteen, and the others were there because they’d been expelled from their previous schools. The boys wore tracksuits, flashy gold jewellery and trainers. One was so angry that he kept throwing stuff at the wall to see if he could smash it. I realised if I was to survive, I’d have to keep my head down. Suddenly, I felt very small.

Unlike normal schools, the lessons were taught on a one-to-one basis. I excelled at English but again I struggled with maths.

‘She’s proper thick,’ the pregnant girl whispered to the others once the lesson had finished.

After that, the name-calling started all over again.

‘Thick bitch,’ the angry boy hissed. He picked up a pencil and threw it at my face like a dart. It hit the side of my cheek and I winced with pain.

I thought it’d been bad at my last school but this one was worse. At least I’d had a handful of friends before but now I was totally alone.

The bullying started and continued every time the teachers left the classroom. The others decided I was a loser. They took the mickey out of my hair and my clothes. Before I’d not worn the right skirt or school shoes but now I was ridiculed for wearing the wrong trainers – I’d never get it right.

‘Watch out, here comes Loser!’ one of the girls laughed.

I hated her, I hated them all.

The only bonus was my new school hours: we only did half
days and even then we were often given time off to study at home. To be honest, I think they thought we were a lost cause and once the teachers had done what they’d been paid to do, they couldn’t wait to see the back of us.

One day I was sat in a lesson when my phone started to ring. I glanced down at the screen; it was Sam. I’d not heard from him in ages and I wondered how he’d been. At first I ignored it and turned it on ‘silent’, but it continued to light up with incoming text messages.

‘Katie, can you turn your phone off, please?’ my teacher sighed, her patience wearing thin. But I’d had enough of people telling me what to do and something snapped.

‘I’m leaving,’ I said, as I scraped my chair back against the floor and rose to my feet.

‘But you can’t just leave,’ she said, trying to calm me down.

I looked around the classroom; the angry boy was pulling a face at me. I’d had enough.

‘I don’t want to stay here in this shitty school – I’ve had enough! I’m going to meet someone,’ I shouted out loud.

‘Who are you going to meet, Katie?’ the teacher asked.

‘A friend of mine – he’s an Asian boy. He cares about me, not like you lot here!’ The words blurted out as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

Five minutes later, my mobile rang: it was Dad. The school had called him and he wanted to meet me.

‘I just want to talk,’ he said.

I missed my dad so much that I agreed. I was standing opposite Sam’s restaurant when I took the call. Sam was waiting for me but another few minutes wouldn’t make much difference.

Five minutes later, Dad approached.

‘I want to know who this lad is,’ he demanded.

My mind raced; how did he know? Then it dawned on me – the teacher must’ve told him.

‘He’s my boyfriend,’ I said.

‘Well, I want to meet him, so where are you meeting him?’

Before I could stop them I felt my eyes dart over towards the Indian restaurant.

‘Over there?’ Dad said, taking my hand. ‘Come on then, you can introduce me.’

With that he marched me across the road but the restaurant was closed.

Dad looked at me.

‘Round the back,’ I mumbled, signalling to the alleyway behind.

Sam’s face clouded over when he saw the two of us approach. My heart was in my mouth – I didn’t know what to say or do, I’d never seen my dad like this before.

‘Are you Sam?’ he asked, almost shouting at him.

Sam shook his head.

‘No, I’m Nadeem – Sam’s not here,’ he lied.

My father swung to face me. His eyes were angry, his voice impatient.

‘Is this the lad you’re supposed to be meeting?’

I looked at Sam over Dad’s shoulder. He shook his head and silently pleaded with me to say no.

‘No, Dad, this is Nadeem. He’s a friend of Sam’s.’

I loved my dad and wasn’t sure why I’d just lied to him. Sam was okay. He wasn’t horrible like the others – Sam wasn’t Zeb. But I was worried. If Dad found out about Sam, then he’d find out about the others too. He’d think I was a slag – he’d be ashamed of me.

‘Are you sure this isn’t Sam?’ Dad asked again.

‘Nope,’ I replied, shaking my head. He wouldn’t know.

‘Well,’ he said, turning back towards Sam, ‘if you see this fella Sam, you can tell him that I’m looking for him and believe me, he doesn’t ever want to meet me. This is my daughter and she’s only fourteen years old. So you can tell your friend to stay away from her. Do you hear me?’

Sam looked terrified and I noticed that his hands were shaking by his sides.

‘Yes, yes, I’ll tell him,’ he muttered, flustered.

Dad grabbed at my hand again.

‘Come on, Katie, I’m taking you home.’

I tried to look behind to see Sam’s face but Dad whisked me away.

He scolded me for mixing with older boys, but Sam was still a teenager. I knew then that I could never tell him about the others – they were older, they were all men.

After that, I never saw or heard from Sam again.

Zeb was curious about my new school and asked me lots of questions. We were sitting in the secret house when I began to tell him how much I hated it.

‘And what time do you usually finish?’ he asked, passing a joint to me. I took a drag.

‘Dunno, it depends,’ I said. ‘Sometimes they let us go at lunchtime.’

Zeb pulled the joint from my fingers and took a long drag. He thought for a moment and then spoke.

‘Nice,’ he smiled.

I smiled too. I liked him when he was happy. Today was a good day; we’d met early and he was in a good mood.

My guard was down. He’d promised me alcohol and joints,
so I’d agreed to come. By now, I knew what to expect but I almost didn’t care – my life was in freefall. At least Zeb showed me love.

Zeb walked over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of bottles of blue WKD – it was my favourite and he knew it.

As I gulped down the sweet and sickly blue liquid my head began to swim. Zeb leaned in and started to kiss my neck. It felt nice, gentle even.

‘Things are going to be different, Katie,’ he said, whispering in my ear.

‘Me and you. Things will be good, I promise. Zeb just wants to take care of you.’

Before long, I’d drunk the bottle and Zeb handed me another. He lit up a joint and we smoked it all. Then he lit another. The drugs and alcohol gripped me; Zeb noticed and began to paw at my body.

‘Here,’ he said gently, lifting me to my feet, ‘let’s go upstairs.’

My legs felt heavy as he helped me to the white door at the bottom of the stairs. As he pulled the door open, I noticed something for the first time – a poster of a naked woman. I’d been at this house countless times but I’d never noticed the poster before. The woman looked cheap and tacky. Her head was missing from the picture; instead it showed her naked with her legs splayed open. The image turned my stomach. Even though my head was light and dizzy, the image of the woman stayed with me long after we’d climbed the stairs to the top floor. The more I thought about it, the more I shuddered. It was a horrible poster – really degrading, the sort a dirty old man would have on his bedroom wall. It was just a photograph of a woman’s body – something to be used for sex – she wasn’t even a real person anymore, just an object. Yet this was Zeb’s house
and it was on the door downstairs for everyone to see. I wondered why it was there; wasn’t he embarrassed?

He pushed me down onto the bed and yanked down his trousers and boxer shorts. My body felt numb and I watched as he took out a condom and rolled it on himself. I felt as if I was looking through another pair of eyes, not my own – as though this was some sort of seedy porn film.

Moments later, with his bodyweight on top of me, I detached my mind from my body and allowed it to drift off. This wasn’t happening to me – this was happening to someone else. It wasn’t real; it was just in my head. It was the only way I could get through it.

I liked it when Zeb said nice things to me, when he nuzzled my neck with gentle kisses, when he told me how much he cared. I liked it when he bought me things, cigarettes and alcohol, and treated me like a grown-up. But I didn’t like it when he pushed me down and forced me to have rough sex with him on the dirty mattress.

‘Turn over,’ he gasped.

He made me kneel on all fours and had sex with me from behind. The dirty mattress pressed against my face. The ingrained smell of sex in the fabric pressed up against my nostrils. Every time I breathed in I could smell it and I wanted to gag. It smelled of sex – dirty sex. Then it crossed my mind – I wondered how many other girls Zeb had brought here?

Afterwards, I longed for him to kiss and cuddle me but instead he ordered me to get dressed. He snapped his boxer shorts back on and the elastic pinged against his waist.

‘You’ve got to go home now.’

He’d had his way and now he was finished with me. It made me feel cheap. I did as he said and pulled on my clothes, which
were strewn across the floor. The fug in my head cleared as I fastened my bra.

Zeb put on his jumper and closed the door behind him. I heard footsteps on the stairs and then voices. As soon as I reached the bottom step, Aban was waiting for me with his hand resting on the latch of the front door.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I nodded, my voice small and tight.

I’d thought Zeb loved me but he didn’t, not really. I was only fourteen, almost fifteen years old, but I knew someone who loved you wouldn’t treat you like this.

‘Bye then,’ I called to Zeb. I lifted my hand to wave goodbye but he didn’t even look up.

‘Yeah,’ he mumbled as he flopped back down onto the sofa and flicked on the TV with the remote control.

Aban dropped me off in the alleyway and although it was still light, I ran all the way home. I passed Mum in the hallway; she was just leaving for work.

‘Good day at school, love?’

‘Yeah, great,’ I lied.

Mum smiled and seemed relieved. She thought my life was back on track but it was far from it. If anything, it was in a downward spiral but I didn’t know what to do to stop it. Closing my bedroom door behind me, I leaned against the wood and allowed the cool of the surface to soak through my clothes and into my back. I needed time to think but my head felt all scrambled.

Suddenly, my mobile vibrated in my jeans pocket. I pulled it out and I glanced at the screen. As I did, my heart sank – it was Wadi. I thought about not answering for a moment but I knew he’d pester me until I did.

‘Hey, how’s my favourite girl?’ he asked, his voice light and bouncy

‘I’m fine,’ I lied, silent tears streaming down my face.

‘It’s just I haven’t seen you for a while and…and well, I miss you. How about calling at the shop to see your old Wadi?’

‘Err…’ I said, trying to think of an excuse, but my mind went blank.

‘Great, come round now if you like? I’m here and I’m looking forward to seeing you.’ With that the phone line went dead.

My body ached. All I wanted was a good bath – a long, hot soak – but Wadi was waiting. I had to go. I cursed myself for not saying no. But instead, I pushed my mobile phone back into my pocket, wiped away the tears and headed downstairs to the front door. I’d reached a point where I couldn’t say no. I was having sex with different Asian men but felt I had no choice. I was so naive – I’d gotten myself in too deep. I was trapped inside a deep pit of despair and there was no way out.

I hated myself, but at the same time I loved the attention they gave me. Stupidly, I mistook it for love.

That evening, Wadi had sex with me too, and the following day, Tali was on the phone again.

‘I can’t wait for us to live together, Katie. You know how much I love you and I want us to be together forever.’

I believed Tali when he said those things to me. I believed them all. I didn’t stop to think that there was something seriously wrong with my life. I was having sex with all these different men yet I was still a child. None of this occurred to me because it had become my life. This was normal behaviour to me now. I was a dirty girl and I thought I didn’t deserve any better – but I was wrong.