Sarah's Story

by Sarah Preston

  I should have stayed happy that night, cradled in the love and warmth that Daniel was offering me; but instead an uninviting, haunting coldness fell around me. A coldness that kept me in a dark shadow.

  I tried to sleep, but sleep never stood a chance against the battle of memories that had begun to erupt inside my head. I tossed and turned deep into the night. In the end, my eyes fell wearily shut as the sun broke through the gap in the curtains.

  Mum woke me at eleven o’clock. ‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ her voice echoed around the room. ‘Bill’s here for you.’

  Please, no, let it be a dream. He can’t be back.

  Can he?

  The tears welled quickly beneath my closed eyelids. As I pulled my legs free from the bedclothes, I fell to the floor. I lay there tangled up in sheets, shock and a sleepy unconsciousness. What was he doing here? It was the middle of the day. Why wasn’t he at the bingo hall? What did he want?

  It wasn’t his day!

  What gave him the right continually to think he was entitled to any more days with me? These days that belonged to me. This was now my life. I was starting to take control, and he was not welcome.

  Inside, I felt an overwhelming anger gripping me, an anger that I had never felt before. I wanted my life back. I wanted to be me again. I wanted to become the girl I should have been. I knew he had come on a different day because I had succeeded in loosening his chains over the past week – something I knew angered him deeply. I knew he wasn’t happy with how things were, with the way I had started to treat him. He resented what I was doing and I knew it.

  When I went slowly, sleepily down the stairs, I heard voices travelling through the kitchen from the lounge. Mum’s voice was muffled, making it hard for me to tell what she was saying, but his voice was perfectly understandable. He spoke in lower tones than he usually did, but the insistent nature of his questioning sounded even more desperate with every word he spoke. ‘When did she meet him? How old is he? And you’re letting her go out with him, Evelyn, with such a big age difference? You’ll have to be careful. What will people think?’ He barely gave Mum a chance to answer.

  He had a cheek. What right had he to question my mum about Dan? Who did he think he was? I walked into the room and stared at him angrily. I guessed at that moment that he knew exactly what I was thinking. He glared at me. In the glare of his eye I could see hatred shining through, hatred and glistening resentment.

  Why did he have this look? What gave him the right to look at me in this way? What had I done wrong?

  I hated him more than ever. All I wanted to do was escape forever.

  I wished Dan were there.

  Within half an hour, I was sitting in his car again, travelling the same old familiar roads. There weren’t any ways now to his flat I didn’t know. I had memorised them all. I was trapped and heading for the flat. Mum had once more sent me with him.

  I had objected. He had objected to my objecting. He had said Mum had promised I would help him today. And twenty-five minutes later we were driving down his street. He pulled the car to a halt. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘come on, out you get.’

  He was treating me like a criminal. He looked at me so strongly I felt myself shrink in fear, my whole body sinking into the seat I was sitting on. I didn’t move for a few moments. I couldn’t. Fear held me firm. ‘Come on,’ he hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me across the seat towards him.

  I had no alternative. I had to get out of the car. My wrist felt terribly bruised and swollen. He held on to me as he opened the door and climbed the stairs up to the first-floor landing, through the door and into his flat. I pulled free of him at last; he retaliated by pushing me on to the chair. ‘What do you think you are doing, going out with that lad?’

  ‘Is that any of your business?’ I shouted back at him.

  I recoiled in shock at the words I had spoken; the voice I had heard didn’t seem to belong to me. It belonged to someone who was strong, alive, someone who knew how to get what she wanted. I had never shouted at or questioned an adult before, and I knew I shouldn’t have done it – even in this situation. I glanced at him quickly. Luckily, he had not noticed me falter.

  ‘You know I don’t want you going out with boys. They’re only after one thing.’

  What he really meant was he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else touching me. I’m sure he believed that every touch that wasn’t his would poison his precious Sarah, taint her skin so that she would not be wholly his. Bill had built me into his world, a possession he kept caged and imprisoned. I was his. I know he believed I would always be his.

  Over the last few precious days, the chains that had bound me had loosened. For that short period of time I had actually believed I could get away from him. How wrong I was. The chains were back – I knew that the moment he pulled me to him, pushed me on to the bed and did all the things he had done so many times before to me. The difference was that this time he did those things with a forceful, hurtful, menacing fixation. And he continued to do them regardless of my pleas to stop, which continuously rang out in the hours that followed.

  He hurt me that day – really hurt me. I pulled away from him several times. Each time he overpowered me. He pulled me back, trapping me beneath him like a small frail bird under a bold eagle. He got what he wanted. He made me regret my actions.

  He pushed and poked into me even harder.

  He acted like this was his only purpose in life.

  I was his property, and all I had to do was remember that.

  I hurt for days after. I felt as if he had torn into every small, intimate part of me, ripping me apart with every move he made. The bruises on my thighs lasted forever, like the memories he had already created. I saw them in the mirror that afternoon. Each day they became clearer than they had been the day before, their intensity crying out to me as I looked at my battered, bruised body. Those bruises reminded me of him. Of the minutes that lasted longer than an hour, minutes spent with a vile, wicked, hateful monster.

  The bruises faded in time, but the feeling of being held against my will stayed deep in my mind, penetrating my subconscious with the same intensity that Bill had used on me. I had the memory of his hands feeling me and pawing me bubbling in my mind like a spa that was never turned off. I finally understood that he had been raping me. He had been taking me to his flat against my will, holding me down against my will, and penetrating me against my will.

  Dan came to see me that night. He wanted to go out for a drive, but I told him I wasn’t well. I lied. I couldn’t have gone out with him, even if I had wanted to. Dad wouldn’t let me use the hot water for a bath that afternoon; he wanted me to have one later when Mum had done her washing. I felt worthless and dirty. I didn’t want Dan to hold me until I had scrubbed that feeling of worthlessness away, along with his presence, his scent, his touch.

  Bill had made me feel like an inconsequential person, a person who had no life left and nothing to live for. I tried not to think about him or what he had done to me while I patiently waited for the three hours to pass before I would be allowed to have a bath. Every second his scent remained on me I become more and more alone.

  All the time I waited, listening to each long minute tick by, my body felt more sordid and repulsive. I wanted to change everything I could see. I even wondered how I could get new skin, then it wouldn’t matter about washing the old one. I knew I was dreaming my life into a fantasy world that did not exist; but if you can’t dream you have nothing.

  I began thinking back to the plans I had made in my head. I decided I would push things forward. I thought about Dan and how I felt about him. I knew I didn’t want to be alone without him. He made me feel loved and wanted. He had shown me a new, caring world I could take part in. He had given me back my worth in the way he treated me, and he had shared his strength with me. But I knew that Bill would destroy him the same way that he would have devastated Tom. I knew Dan must never know, never find out.

 
I pledged to take this secret to the grave, vowing that neither of them would ever know the truth about their Sarah …

  Thirteen

  I PLANNED LONG into the days that followed. I had to do something quickly. Just when I thought I was safe again Bill had turned up without warning, and he did it twice more that very week. He spoke to Mum and, as usual, he got his way. I vaguely heard the conversation between the two of them taking shape. Mum’s voice was more audible than Bill’s this time: ‘Yes, she can go and help you. No, she doesn’t have anything planned. Of course she could see Daniel tomorrow.’ That afternoon I had to go with Bill no matter how much I complained.

  After that moment, I again swore to myself that I would try to protect myself. I vowed he would not violate me again, ever. I had to break his binding chains. Chains that I knew he had locked all too securely. I knew I had to examine them more closely. There had to be a weakness in the links somewhere. I had to find a way, any way, to break free. I knew Bill wouldn’t be happy if he suspected what I was planning, and I also knew in my head he would do everything in his power to stop me setting myself free of him. He would find a way to make the chains stronger if I gave him the chance.

  I had to think faster, become smarter, and stay one step ahead.

  I wasn’t sure if my original plans would work now he knew I was avoiding him. That night I prayed hard in bed, begging someone, anyone, whoever and wherever they were, to answer me. I wanted someone to open their ears wider, to listen out for my cry for help. Surely someone somewhere had to be paying attention.

  I decided to try something I hadn’t tried before. I went through the scenario, step by step, in my mind. It was a simple thing, but to me it seemed the most difficult thing in the world: when Bill next came, I would just say no to him.

  ‘No, I’m not coming with you today.’

  I said the words over and over in my head.

  ‘No, I’m not coming with you today.’

  ‘No, I’m not coming with you today.’

  ‘No, I’m not coming with you today.’

  ‘No, I’m not coming with you today.’

  Each time I spoke the words, they sounded louder, more positive. But when I heard his car pull up outside the house the following day, they became quieter, and I stumbled over them.

  I was scared.

  How does a small person stand tall in the face of such overwhelming danger?

  I heard his car door close. The gate opened and creaked slowly shut after him, sounding louder than it ever had before. A few moments later I heard his silly tap on the door – a feeble tap that belonged to a feeble man. The door opened and his footsteps pattered their way across the kitchen floor. ‘It’s only me,’ his voice rang out.

  Inside my head, I answered his call. ‘If it’s only you, go away!’ I wished more than anything that I had the courage actually to say it to his face, but I hadn’t. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.

  But why shouldn’t I? He was the one who was doing wrong. But it wasn’t allowed to yell or shout at adults. Children had to know their place, after all. Answering back just wasn’t something I would do.

  Mum’s voice sounded out in the distance – she was on her way in from the back garden. She greeted him with her usual ‘hello’, and asked if he wanted a cup of tea.

  ‘No thanks,’ I heard him reply. ‘I only came to pick up Sarah.’

  Inside, my body shook with disbelief. I wanted to hear him say to her that he was taking me with him to abuse me. I wanted him to tell the truth and break this unbelievable, elongated spell of lying. I wanted to hear him say to her that for the past three years he had been abusing me. I wanted to hear him say sorry.

  A few minutes passed. I heard muffled sounds drifting up the stairs from the room below. I knew Mum would call me any second, but I was shocked when she hadn’t called me ten minutes later. I couldn’t stand the apprehensive wait. I walked slowly down the stairs, shaking with fear; Mum opened the door just as I reached for the handle. I jumped because I hadn’t expected that to happen. Bill was getting up from the chair behind her. He smiled the smile I hated. This time I smiled back. He was totally unprepared for what happened next.

  ‘Are you right?’ he said. ‘We’d better go’

  I watched him fumble for his keys in his pocket as he headed towards the door. I saw a look of glee in his eyes, delight written into his creased face. I knew what he was expecting to happen more than anyone: a short drive to the flat, where he would wash me, have sex with me, ejaculate over me and discard me.

  Not this bloody time, mate … I was finally going to take charge of my destiny.

  ‘Sorry,’ I replied, ‘I can’t today. Lucy is on her way over. We’ve got a test to study for.’

  I slowly looked up at him. He had already figured out the truth – I could tell from the glint of fuming anger that I saw reflected in the light that caught each of his eyes as he turned to face me. I stared back in such a way that I hope said, ‘Not any more. No way. You’re finished.’

  He just turned towards the door. As he left, he said, ‘See you Friday then.’

  Little did he realise I would be waiting, ready again with my newfound strength.

  The door shut, the gate creaked and whined after him, the car door thudded and the engine hummed less and less as he got closer and closer to the end of the street. And with each passing second I felt my freedom grow. This time it was being watered by hope.

  I walked to the outhouse, found the oil and gently put some on the gate hinges. It silently closed into place. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn I heard a thank you making its way from the hinges to my ears. Later that night I saw Daniel. I never felt happier than I did the moment his little Mini pulled up outside the front gate. We went for a drive and then down to the church hall to move some boxes for the vicar. Daniel sensed I was happier, more at ease than usual. He told me he felt there was something different about me but he didn’t know what it was. I just giggled at him. We had a great night, talking and laughing – laughter that seemed to be laughed more freely somehow. Daniel held me close to him that night. I felt him press against me. Inside, my heart was missing beats and my tummy felt as if it were floating away. That night our bodies entwined and became one. I wanted what I felt with Daniel to last forever: security, love and warmth within his arms and within his heart.

  But I knew I had to face reality. My dreaming stopped the moment Daniel drove me home that night. I tried to sleep but I couldn’t. I understood what I had planned to do to keep Bill at bay had made him furious. I knew he was more annoyed than ever. I planned to be out when he called on Friday – that way I would well and truly avoid him. I called to see Lucy the morning after and arranged a visit to town.

  I wasn’t quite prepared for what happened when he turned up on Thursday.

  I had been busy revising for tests at school. Mock exams were looming and I so desperately wanted to do well in them. It was English Literature first. I loved the subject but I always seemed to struggle to remember the things I had read. I was frantically reading one of the set books when, at about half past six, Bill appeared. Mum had gone to the shop and Dad was busy decorating the kitchen.

  Bill had let himself in through the back door, and he spent twenty minutes or so talking to Dad. I stopped revising; I couldn’t concentrate now. He was back and I couldn’t hear what was being said in the kitchen below. My concentration had gone and fear was creeping into its place. I was frightened knowing that I had to try yet again to escape him. I wasn’t even safe here, in my own home. He was everywhere – I felt as if he were stalking me. He was always there, if not physically then mentally, in my every waking moment. I felt caged and trapped with no escape route available.

  I heard the hall door open, then Dad called upstairs to me. ‘Bill’s here, Sarah.’

  I wanted to curl up and go to sleep, to find myself waking up from the dream.

  Dad shouted at me again, impatience sounding in every word. ‘Sarah, Bill’s here!�
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  I went down.

  ‘Bill’s come round. He needs help in the snack bar – Jean isn’t there, she’s unwell today. I said I knew you’d want to help out in any way you could.’ He smiled at me as he finished what he was saying.

  ‘I have to revise; I have an exam to get through next week.’

  ‘Oh, there’s plenty of time for that, you have all weekend,’ Dad replied.

  ‘We won’t be gone long,’ Bill added, as if to secure the deal with Dad.

  I thought for a moment then continued with my protest. ‘I can’t go. I’m sorry, but I have to revise.’The quiver in my voice broke free with the last few words I spoke. ‘This exam is really important to me, Dad. You want me to do well, don’t you?’

  They both looked at each other, then they directed their attention towards me. Dad looked angry. He was angry that I was backchatting him. Bill was looking at me with eyes that seemed to be burning through me as fast as any acid could have done. I felt so uncomfortable. I hated standing here having Bill’s eyes bore fiercely into me. Dad didn’t help matters either, siding with everything Bill said. I felt like any naughty child would have done, in trouble for taking a biscuit without asking or eating sweets too close to teatime

  No matter how much I objected, Dad still insisted I go. I took my time going to the loo before leaving, combing my hair three times, washing my face four. That way there wouldn’t be lots of time at the flat. All the time I dawdled I realised what I was actually doing was attempting to take back some of the minutes Bill wanted to steal from me. All the minutes I was in the car, moving along the streets heading towards the flat, I wanted to jump out to escape him. My feelings about what was happening to me had changed over the past weeks. I felt different about myself. New thoughts and feelings had grown inside of me, making me feel more anxious with each passing day. I had begun to feel like a cheap prostitute again, cheap yet exclusive to him. After all, hadn’t I been the best kind of girl for a man of his age – untouched and untried by anyone else before him. Rich new pickings. Unblemished. Brought slowly into new awakenings within my body by him and him alone. And, best of all, I was completely free.