Stolen Girl (17 page)

I
tried to avoid his calls but I knew I couldn’t escape Zeb’s clutches forever. One day I was walking home from school when a car drew up by the side of me. It was Zeb, but he was with another Asian man I’d never seen before – his name was Habis.

‘Where have you been hiding?’ asked Zeb.

My heart began to quicken. I’d seen that look on his face before and it scared me.

‘You’ve not been answering your phone,’ he scolded.

‘It’s been broken,’ I lied. It was the first thing that came into my head.

Zeb studied me for a moment – I could tell he didn’t believe me.

‘I’ll meet you around the back of the shop. Then you can get in the car,’ he said.

I was too frightened to say no so I did as he said. It was a hot
day and they’d had the roof of the car down, but as I approached they were pulling it back over.

‘Why are you doing that – aren’t you hot?’ I asked, a little puzzled.

‘Yes, but we can’t be seen driving around town with a white girl, can we?’

Zeb’s friend turned to face me. He was sitting in the driving seat but he smiled as he spoke.

‘Especially not one who’s as beautiful as you!’ he gushed. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Jennifer Lopez?’

I blushed. No one had ever said that to me before. Zeb noticed my face go red and it made him laugh.

‘Come on, Hab, you don’t have to be nice to her, just drive.’

Half an hour later we parked outside the secret house. I knew what was coming.

‘Take Habis upstairs, Katie,’ Zeb told me, so I did.

I’d never met Habis before but at least he was nice to me, nicer than Zeb. Habis called me beautiful. He said it again as we lay down on the mattress and had sex. It felt more normal, more equal somehow.

Afterwards, Zeb had sex with me too. This was how my life was. I was Zeb’s girlfriend and that meant I had to do all these things to keep him happy.

Later we smoked a few joints and I drank lots of booze. I felt light-headed so I stumbled over to the sink, turned on the cold tap and splashed my face. The cool water felt good. I rubbed my face with a tea towel and stumbled backwards, but as I did, I felt something give behind me. Suddenly, my back went icy cold as though a frozen breeze had shot right through me.

Zeb saw and ran over to catch me.

‘Whoa!’ he shouted. I dipped back as he caught me in his arms and lifted me back to my feet. I turned to see him closing a door, one I’d never noticed before but one in the kitchen that seemed to lead down to a cellar.

‘Where does that go?’ I asked, catching a glimpse of the stone staircase leading down.

‘Nowhere, it’s nothing,’ Zeb said, pulling me away.

‘But I’ve never seen that door before,’ I insisted. ‘What’s down there?’

Zeb got annoyed and started to lose his temper.

‘It’s nothing, okay? You must never, ever go down there, understand? There’s nothing down there but you must never go down there or ask me about it again.’

‘Okay, okay,’ I said, putting my hands up in front of me to calm him down. ‘I’m sorry, I won’t ask again.’

I never did ask Zeb what was down there but I started to imagine all sorts of things. Were there other girls? What was he hiding and why had he got so upset? The thought of the mystery stairs unnerved me but I knew better than to ask about them again. I didn’t want to upset Zeb because I didn’t like him when he was angry.

A few days later he called and told me to meet him. I grabbed my bag.

‘Where are you going?’ Mum asked. By now, I was an expert at making things up.

‘Lauren’s.’ I told her.

‘Oh, okay.’ Mum replied. I felt my heart break a little bit more. I was now fifteen and a typical teenager in many ways but I hated lying to her.

By the time I arrived, Aban’s car was waiting. I expected him to drive us to the secret house, so I was a little confused when
Aban did a three-point turn in the middle of the main road and roared off in the opposite direction.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘Work,’ Zeb replied.

I shook my head. Zeb didn’t work; he’d said he was a student. It didn’t make sense but sure enough, five minutes later, we pulled up outside an office, which was situated in a small parade of shops. Zeb pulled out a set of keys I’d never seen before and unlocked a door around the back. He led me inside. The back room was filthy, with an old sofa and makeshift kitchen, but there was a door and it led through to a larger, cleaner-looking room with a desk, a chair and a telephone. It all looked very respectable. I wondered what kind of office it was but I knew better than to ask questions. There were slatted blinds in the front window and lots of paper on the desk. I wasn’t sure what kind of place it was, but today it was obviously closed.

‘Aban,’ Zeb called. Aban looked up, nodded and headed out of the back door.

‘Come here,’ Zeb said, holding out his arms. I was nervous but I went to him. I didn’t dare say no.

‘Here,’ he said, guiding my hand to the button of his jeans. They were tight and it was hard to undo the buttons but he breathed in and somehow I managed it.

‘There,’ he said, exposing himself. ‘I want you to give me a blow job.’

‘But…but…’ I said, my voice beginning to quiver.

‘Now,’ Zeb ordered. He entwined my hair tight around his fingers and pulled my head back. Then he forced me down towards his crotch.

I was so frightened that I did as he said. Afterwards, he
dragged me into the back room of the office and had sex with me. The sex was rough and urgent. When he’d finished I watched as he pulled on his boxer shorts and fastened up his jeans. I automatically reached over for my clothes but Zeb grabbed my hand to stop me.

‘Don’t,’ he hissed, ‘you’re not finished yet.’

Cold, frightened and naked, I wrapped my arms protectively around my chest as he walked out through the back door. I heard a car door slam and wondered where on earth he’d gone. Surely he’d not leave me here?

Moments later, the door swung open again and Aban stood in the doorway.

‘Now you will have sex with me,’ he said bluntly. I shook my head.

‘Zeb says you must,’ he insisted.

I was scared and vulnerable. I knew if I didn’t do it, Zeb would come storming through the door at any minute and make me. It was easier to do as I was told.

Up until this point I’d thought maybe Aban was different. Sure, he’d driven me to these places but he’d never laid a finger upon me, until now. But even though he was frightened of Zeb, he was just as bad as him. And now that we’d had sex, I felt dirty and used, like a piece of meat.

Unlike Zeb, Aban didn’t even use protection. I wondered if he hadn’t been planning to have sex with me and had just grabbed the opportunity when it was presented. Zeb must have given him permission to do it – I was Zeb’s possession, not Aban’s. But now they were both using me.

Aban gasped as he sucked and licked at my breasts. I shut my eyes and suddenly I was back in the shop with Wadi. Only now it was Aban doing these disgusting things to me. Sweet, quiet
Aban – the man who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Yet here he was, pinning me down, having his way with me – he was just as bad as the others. I turned my head sideways so that he wouldn’t see my tears.

I was a piece of meat to be used and abused. I existed not for myself, but solely for the use and enjoyment of others. Zeb had cheapened me and I’d allowed it to happen. I was fifteen years old but I didn’t know how to make it stop; I was stuck in the middle of a nightmare.

Afterwards, as he pulled his trousers back on, Aban turned to me.

‘I don’t agree with all this, you know,’ he said suddenly.

I wanted to slap him. He didn’t agree with it? He’d just held me down and had sex with me. I couldn’t even look at him.

‘Look,’ he said, grabbing me by the shoulders. ‘I don’t agree with what Zeb is doing to you but I can’t stop him, Katie – no one can,’ he insisted.

I lifted my head and looked into Aban’s eyes. Deep down, I knew he wasn’t a bad man – it was Zeb who was evil. His soul was blackened, just like his heart; he was rotten inside. Only bad things happened when Zeb was around. His whole world was seedy and disgusting. Aban was right; no one could stop Zeb. No one.

M
y mobile phone buzzed constantly. It didn’t matter if I was at school, with Dean or at home. I was still seeing Dean and we still had sex occasionally but he was soon sick of all the texts and calls I was receiving. It made him paranoid and angry and before long it created a wedge in our relationship.

‘Are you cheating on me?’ he asked one day.

My eyes widened with horror.

‘No, no…’ I gasped – my voice sounded urgent and too defensive. It was clear something wasn’t right. I jumped every time my phone pinged.

‘I don’t think I can do this anymore,’ Dean said suddenly, shrugging me away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to kiss him; he was the only good thing in my life right now.

‘No, Katie. Leave me alone,’ he snapped. ‘Something’s not right and I don’t think I want to carry on. It’s over.’

I put my hand to my throat to stop the hurt from welling up inside. Dean thought he knew but he didn’t have any idea what I was going through. I tried to think how I could tell him.
I’m sleeping with all these different Asian men. They give me drink and drugs and, when I’m stoned, they have sex with me. I’m frightened but I don’t know how to make it stop.
But even inside my head the words sounded horrible. They lodged high up in the back of my throat and refused to budge. Fear had simply locked them away.

‘Okay,’ I sniffed, ‘if that’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ Dean answered.

We were sitting by the lake and Dean got to his feet and zipped up his jacket.

‘See you around, yeah?’ he said, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. It made me feel even worse.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, staring off into the distance.

With that he left. I continued to stare at the lake – I wanted to throw myself in. I wanted to tie a heavy stone around my neck and allow the weight of it to drag me deep into the cold dark water. I’d sink to the bottom where I’d never be seen. The pain would leave my body and I’d be free. I’d be cold, dead and hidden and no one would ever be able to hurt me again.

I missed Dean dreadfully; he made me feel normal. But my life was far from that – it was full of phone calls and demands. Drained and exhausted, I found it hard to concentrate at school so I started bunking off. Not that anyone noticed or cared – I think I was beyond help. I drank and smoked too much hash and became a shadow of my former self. I felt less than worthless.

The cuts on my arm were mounting up and now there were scars upon scars. My wrists were constantly bloodied
with raised scars –for all to see if anyone had thought to look – a cry for help. But I kept them hidden where no one would find them.

One night, Zeb took me to the secret house but this time he didn’t seem bothered about having sex with me. For a moment I wondered if I’d done something wrong and he was angry with me. We always came to the house to have sex – it was normal now. This wasn’t.

‘There’s a guy called Hakim upstairs in the first bedroom,’ Zeb said. ‘You should go up there and chill out with him.’

I took a swig from my bottle of WKD.

‘But I don’t know him,’ I said, shaking my head.

‘That doesn’t matter. You need to get up there now.’ Zeb’s voice was harsh. He handed me a joint and urged me to take a drag. As I did, the weed slowly melted my brain.

‘But what if I don’t want to?’ I slurred.

Zeb put down his bottle of beer and snatched the joint out of my fingertips.

‘You will do as I say!’ he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. It scared me.

‘Okay, okay,’ I replied, backing off. He’d never hit me before but I knew he was capable – he’d think nothing of it.

As I pulled open the door with the dirty poster on it, things became clearer. He didn’t want to see the woman’s face in the poster because he didn’t want to see who she was. He just saw her body – something to be used. As all these thoughts entered my head, Zeb suddenly called my name. The sheer sound of his voice jolted me with fear and brought me back into the moment.

‘Here,’ he said, handing me a few rolled-up joints, ‘take these.’

I looked at them in my hand and guessed these were what I’d use to ‘chill out’.

‘Now go on, be a good girl for Zeb. Hakim is waiting.’

I did as Zeb asked and climbed the stairs. I knew that I wasn’t going to that bedroom to ‘chill out’ – I’d been sent up there to have sex with a man I didn’t even know. And I’d do it. I’d do it because I was frightened of Zeb and what he’d do to me.

The man was skinny and smelt of body odour. He had buck teeth that stuck out when he smiled. I felt my stomach lurch because he was so ugly. I guessed he was in his early thirties but he was dressed like a tramp, wearing a horrible scruffy T-shirt with stains down the front.

He didn’t pull any punches. We’d only smoked one spliff between us when he pounced on me. We were in the lower-floor bedroom, which also had a bed in it. Like the room at the top of the house, the mattress was stained and unmade. I just wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. The thought of driving home in Aban’s car kept me going as I allowed my mind to drift off.

A week later, Zeb took me to the secret house but this time Habis was waiting for me. I felt relieved because at least I’d met him before – he wasn’t a stranger.

Zeb ignored me and walked through to the back of the house and opened up the fridge. The men drank beer whilst I guzzled down bottles of alcopops. Zeb lit up a joint and we all took a drag. I thought that tonight, because we were in the living room, I’d not have to do anything. Unlike Hakim, Habis made no attempt to go upstairs to the bedroom on the first floor. I thought I was safe, but I was wrong.

After half an hour of drinking, talking and smoking joints, Zeb rose to his feet.

‘I’m going to clean up,’ he announced.

I was flabbergasted because I’d never seen Zeb do anything domestic before. I watched in amazement as he went through to the kitchen and came back in, holding a damp cloth in his hand. He then proceeded to dust down the surfaces. It was only later that I realised perhaps he was doing this to wipe away our fingerprints – traces of us having been there.

‘Katie,’ Zeb said, his back turned to me as he sorted through some papers on the coffee table. ‘I want you to give Habis a blow job.’

I looked at Zeb in shock but he refused to look at me. Instead I glanced over at Habis. I expected him to be shocked, to say something, but he just grinned back as if this had been the plan all along.

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out; instead I sat in numbed silence.

‘Katie,’ Zeb said, turning to face me, ‘I said give Habis a blow job NOW!’

He was so angry that he spat out the words and his eyes flashed with fury. My heart thudded inside my chest. I wanted to scream ‘No!’ Every fibre of my body told me to bolt for the door and to keep on running until I’d made it back home. But the secret house was miles away. I was trapped; no one even knew I was here. I was all alone.

My hands trembled as I lifted myself up from the sofa and made my way across the room to where Habis was sitting. He saw me approach and unzipped his trousers in anticipation.

‘Good girl,’ Zeb muttered as he turned back to the cleaning.

I performed oral sex on Habis but my eyes darted sideways
to see where Zeb was. I expected him to leave the room but he didn’t. Instead he moved around, tidying up as if this was the most normal thing in the world. I’d done things for Zeb, I’d had sex with his friends, but this was the first time I’d done something like this in front of him – as though I was performing for his amusement. I felt cheap and embarrassed at the same time.

That night when I got home I brushed my teeth again and again until the gums bled. Afterwards, I swilled neat mouthwash around. It stung at cuts inside my mouth but I didn’t care – it was making me clean again. Only then did I feel hygienic enough to eat my dinner, but even then the food lodged inside my throat. My body wouldn’t let me eat because I felt so repulsed by the men, but most of all, I felt repulsed by myself.

After that day, it became normal practice for me to perform blow jobs or have sex with random men just to please Zeb. By doing it, I knew I was keeping him happy – and when he was happy, he was kind to me. I reminded myself that I was doing this to protect Mum.

It got to the point where sex with strangers was happening two or three times a week and I never knew who would be there when I opened the door. To get through it I drank and smoked more and more. It blurred everything into one big jumbled mess and numbed both the physical and emotional pain. It also stopped something else – it stopped me from thinking for myself.

One night, Aban drove me over to the house. I’d only been there for a matter of minutes when there was a knock at the front door. Both men momentarily froze and looked up at one another. I went to speak, but Zeb held his hand up to stop me. Silently, he drew a finger against his lips and tip-toed over to
the window to see who it was. With a pointed finger he signalled to Aban to take me upstairs, where we sat on the bed in the first bedroom. I waited for Aban to touch me or try something but he didn’t. Instead he listened intently as Zeb opened the front door.

Although it was muffled and hard to hear, I could just about make out the voice of a girl. She sounded young – she sounded just like me. There was laughter. The front door closed as I heard Zeb invite her inside. Moments later, there was the sound of bottles clinking and laughter. Suddenly everything went quiet – my mind raced. What were they doing? And then it hit me: they were having sex.

I tried to stand up but Aban pulled me back down onto the side of the bed. He hissed at me to be quiet. We remained like that for at least half an hour. Then I heard the sound of laughter and long, protracted goodbyes. There were girl’s footsteps out in the street as heels clicked along the pavement and off into the night. Only then did Aban let me move or talk.

Zeb called up to us to tell us the coast was clear.

‘Who was that?’ I demanded to know as soon as I reached the living room. I felt strangely annoyed that Zeb had another girlfriend besides me. But he stood there and just shrugged his shoulders.

‘It was no one,’ he replied.

I knew he was lying. I wanted to know who it was; a weird sense of jealousy welled up inside me and took me by surprise. I didn’t love Zeb, I was frightened of him but I also didn’t like the idea of being one of many girls. It made me feel even cheaper. My head was a mess – it was so scrambled with drink and drugs I didn’t know what to think or feel anymore.

‘Okay,’ said Zeb, holding up his hands in defeat. ‘It was my
ex-girlfriend. She came here tonight because she wanted to have sex. Now are you satisfied?’

I nodded blankly. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.

A few nights later, we drove to the house but this time there was only me, Zeb, Aban and a man called Jad. I guessed it was a nickname or a shortening of something else.

Zeb walked straight over to the fridge but instead of WKD, he poured me something else.

‘What is it?’ I asked, eying the glass suspiciously as he handed it over.

‘It’s a vodka and Coke; I’ve run out of the other stuff,’ he said. He raised his bottle of beer and clinked it against the tumbler in my hand.

I nodded and took a small sip of the brown liquid just to be sure. It tasted okay – it tasted of Coke. I allowed myself to relax. I drank another one and then another. My head was light when Zeb called me over. He pulled me down onto his lap and started to undo my top. But there were others in the room and I didn’t like it. I wanted Zeb to stop but I didn’t know how to ask because I didn’t want him to turn nasty. There were three of them and only one of me.

My head felt fuggy as I felt fabric slip against my skin. I glanced down to see my top in his hands. His fingers snaked across my back as he fumbled, trying to unclip my bra. I looked up at him with pleading eyes. I didn’t mind sex with him but I didn’t want to be naked here, not in front of everyone.

‘Sssshall we go upstairs?’ I asked. I cringed inwardly as I heard my own voice slurring the words. The vodka was stronger than I thought.

‘No,’ Zeb insisted.

I felt a tug and with one hand he pulled off my bra. My top
half was naked for all to see. I felt vulnerable and wrapped my arms around myself.

‘No, don’t do that, we can’t see you properly if you do that,’ Zeb teased, pulling my arms clear of my breasts.

Aban laughed, but Jad didn’t.

‘Leave her alone!’ Jad snapped.

Zeb shot him a stern look and Jad backed down. Then he laughed and pretended that he’d not meant it.

Soon Zeb was unbuttoning and pulling at my jeans.

‘But I don’t want to,’ I said, trying to hitch them back up again.

‘You do love me, don’t you?’ Zeb asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

‘Yes,’ I whispered.

‘Well, let me do this then,’ he coaxed. A wave hit my body and I felt myself slump in his arms. It was the alcohol kicking in some more, numbing my body.

Seconds later, Zeb pulled off my jeans and my clothes lay in a dishevelled heap in the middle of the floor.

The room was spinning and I felt disorientated as I tried to climb off his lap to get to my clothes. My eyes darted from one man to another. I protectively clamped my arms against me in an attempt to cover myself up. But Zeb, Aban and Jad sat there and did nothing. Instead they just sniggered – I was the entertainment.

‘Please don’t,’ I begged, beginning to weep.

I felt a tug behind me. I turned to see Jad standing there. He had his fingers hooked through the back of my G-string and he was trying to pull my knickers off.

‘No!’ I hissed, lashing out at him.

‘I won’t do this anymore!’ I screamed at Zeb with tears in my eyes.

The moment had come – I’d found the courage to say no. I was sick of Zeb telling me what to do, treating me like an animal. I realised I didn’t have to do this anymore. I didn’t have to let him hurt me. Nothing he could do to me could be any worse than this.