Stolen Girl (23 page)

O
pening up my journal one last time, I grabbed a pen. The pages were bulging with my notes, fears and thoughts over the past few years but this would be my final entry. A poem I’d been carrying inside me came spilling out onto the page. My hand struggled to keep up as the words flowed from deep inside. I began to write.

A story so haunting, a story cold,

But this is a story that needs to be told.

All those years you made me feel so bad,

All those years when you made me feel so sad.

All those years when I thought I couldn’t cope,

I can’t believe I still have hope.

You took me into a room and you locked the door,

You violently pushed me down to the floor.

You overpowered me – I was so helpless,

You hurt me but didn’t care – you left me in a mess.

You didn’t care when you made me cry,

When you hurt me so much I wanted to die.

Why didn’t you stop when I screamed no?

Why didn’t you listen or let me go?

I lay curled up and wounded on my bed,

Feeling worthless, nothing, just totally dead.

After all those years I had my say,

Then finally, there came the day.

The day you would all pay.

You thought you controlled me, thought I’d never tell,

But one day I did and I sent you to hell.

Did you really think they would just let you walk away?

Did you think you could have it all your way?

The tables were turned, and I had the power,

Like the cowards you were the court saw you cower.

Every word you said was a lie,

Hearing you say them, I wanted to die.

You ripped me apart,

Inside I had a cold and damaged heart.

The hurt you’ve caused is beyond repair,

There’s so much pain, too much to bear.

You have torn me inside; you have torn my soul,

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever feel whole.

Writing this poem I have shed many tears,

But I know the end is finally near.

When I feel alone, I just pick up a pen,

I vent out my anger, a message to send.

My writing is the key,
It unlocks what’s buried inside of me.

A story so haunting, a story so cold,

A story that has finally, now been told.

Placing the pink journal back in its box, I pushed down the lid. It was over. The case which had ripped me and my family apart was now dead and buried. It lay rotting inside the hearts of the men who’d done this to me. Now I was moving on.

Today, I’m twenty-one years old and I have a boyfriend called Jack. Unlike the men who abused me, Jack is amazing. He’s there for me when life gets me down, which it still does, but he’s also there to share the good times too.

We started going out not long after the trial had finished. I met him in a club but we’d known each other at school. He told me he’d fancied me all those years before, when I’d felt so utterly crap – I was astounded. I knew he’d make a difference to my life and he has. Together we are complete. And, when he says he loves me, I believe him because he means it. It’s taken me a long time but I have learned how to trust and love again.

Writing the book has given me some sort of closure because it’s helped me move on. I’ve written it because I want to make a difference – I don’t want others to suffer as I did.

Grooming is evil, immoral and illegal – it must be stopped. These men target the most vulnerable members of society: our children. We must be there as adults to protect them, but our communities must also work together to stamp out this vile crime.

This act is often carried out by Asian men who primarily target white girls and the number of cases coming to light is on the increase. Thankfully, these predatory men are in the
minority. Most Asian men are law-abiding, hard-working and decent. However, there is a small minority who look to target white girls: they believe these girls, by the very colour of their skin, are promiscuous and are there to be used and abused. They are despicable men and they must be stopped and brought to justice by both communities.

My case is just the tip of the iceberg. I fear there are many more children out there like me, who believe these men when they tell them that they love them. They do not: they are paedophiles who groom girls so they can abuse them and pass them around as sexual playthings. These offenders must be caught and dealt with. We need to start talking to one another, breaking down barriers and recognising that this
does
happen. It’s the only way we can stop it from blighting the next generation.

I hope that by speaking out, I can help other victims find the strength to come forward to report such crimes. If not, I fear there will be many more just like me.

Despite everything, I’m slowly rebuilding my life. For the first time I’m looking forward to the future because I actually believe I have one. I’ve wasted enough of my life worrying about what these bastards did to me but now I refuse to waste another minute because they’re not worth it. They’re behind bars where they belong – where they can never hurt another little girl again.

I feel proud of myself that I’ve found the strength to speak out: I know I have done the right thing.