My story starts just over 15 years ago when I was four. I mean, it might have started earlier. But I only remember it from the age of 4. My abuser was a friend of my parents. I don’t know how they knew each other but he used to look after our dog when we went away and my parent’s didn’t particularly like him, but he was a lonely old man and they felt bad because his own children never spoke to him. Now I think we know why. We’ll call him David. It started with small things, things that are ‘normal’. He’d be very friendly with me, and my sister. She was two years older than me. But I was struggling with what I’ve now discovered is Aspergers. Back then I was just ‘unsociable’. I think that’s one of the reasons he chose me and not my sister. She doesn’t remember anything ever happening with her. For the first year or two, it was just a lot of hugs, making me sit on his lap, kisses.. But I was used to my aunts and uncles and my grandma kissing me on the lips. It was just something a bit gross that old people did, right? In that way he pushed my limits of what was okay. He’d give me gifts and make me feel special when I was often overshadowed by my sister, who was a wonderful artist, very good linguist, had a lot of friends.. I didn’t. I never had a lot of friends. So I enjoyed the attention from him. We moved from Wales to Devon when I was 5, but he would come to visit often. At least four or five times a year for a week or a weekend. And when he came to visit I had to sleep in my sister’s bedroom which I hated so that he could sleep in mine. It was the same any time we had guests though. By the time I was 7, he had started kissing me properly, with tongues, and I didn’t like it I still get flashbacks when I kiss my boyfriend sometimes. Touching my chest, and rubbing me down there whenever he could. And I was starting to resist him. So he started threatening me. Telling me that my parents would punish me because I’d been very bad. So I let him continue.. It was around this age that I got caught ‘exploring’ with a female friend of mine, playing doctor. I remember I got in trouble then.. And it reinforced what he told me about being punished for it. The summer that I was 8, I saw his penis for the first time when my family was staying at his house in the Brecon Beacons. We’d gone to go hiking, I’m told.. My sister, David and I were in the living room, and my sister was listening to some new songs by The Kooks. The room was partitioned and she couldn’t see us. He pulled me onto him and put my hand down his shorts. I still remember the feeling of him hard under my hand. I was so shocked then that I didn’t know what to do. He told me that that night he had something planned, but I had to be quiet when he came into my room. And so, that night I was awoken by a hand over my mouth in the dark with only a small amount of light from the hall leaking in through the crack in the door. When he took away his hand it was replaced by something that smelled weird and had a slimy texture. He told me to open my mouth and I obeyed. He fucked my mouth for a while. Holding my face so I couldn’t bite down or pull away and I started crying. He told me to keep crying. He liked the way it felt. The next morning he made pancakes and acted like nothing happened. The next year I was nine, we went travelling for three months and it was amazing. But, he had our dog. He brought him back a few weeks after we got home, and decided to stay for a week. I went to the beach with him, my sister and my friend that I experimented with. While they swam in the sea, he asked me to stay so he could talk to me. I sat on the beach on a blanket, and he wrapped another around me, sat close to me and started touching me under the blanket. I remember little of it except that it hurt. I think know that he fingered me. But then all I could focus on was that it hurt. And that I was so desperate to shout to my sister. I still don’t know why I didn’t. He asked me if it hurt, and when I said yes, told me that he would make it a lot worse if I told. That night, he offered to sleep on the sofa instead of in my room, so I would have my own bed to sleep. I wish now I had slept in my sisters room anyway. During the night, I woke up when I felt his weight on my bed. He told me to be very quiet, and that it would be worse if I resisted. He pulled up my nightdress, and took off my underwear. I started to try to stop him, but he easily held both of my hands on my hip to stop me moving while he got ready. I felt his hands again, spreading my legs and then the pain again. Then his weight on top of me, and kissing me, and feeling his fat swamping me. Digging his nails into my just starting to develop chest. And for 10 years that’s all the memory I had until he left me, crying and sore in both holes and wet everywhere, from his sweat, my blood and I don’t know what else. I got my first period a few days later and developed bowel issues. Just a few weeks ago, I got the last piece of my memory of that night in a flashback, and it just confirms the worst. Every time he visited after then I made a point of not being in the house. Even if it meant walking the mile and a half to my friends house to spend the weekend there. Five years later (just over five years ago), I attempted suicide, and there told a nurse then the police about what happened. At the time my memory was much more patchy. But they found another girl whose abuse was ongoing. Between our statements, he confessed and was sentenced to fifteen years. Sadly he died two years into it.