Sitting up suddenly in bed, sweat running down my back, I took a deep breath.
‘You’re safe now,’ I reminded myself. This was a flashback. So vivid that I couldn’t get back to sleep. I had bruises down my legs, where I’d tried to fight back in my sleep and defend myself...
I had carried my secret for almost 50 years. And, sometimes, I felt like I’d never escape. My earliest recollection, aged three and a half, was being lifted from my bed by my father, Arthur, a big, meaty, hand, clamped over my mouth, to stifle my screams.
And then, my father raped me.
My memories are hazy after that. Until I was six, when Dad regularly sexually abused and raped me. Every time my mother was out.
We…
