The laundry trolley as a witness.

It was day in October, I was 13 years old and me and my mummy was at home.  I believe it was a Saturday, as I recall doing a lot of housework that day. At  first I started tidying up the kitchen and then the rest of the house. By 3pm in the afternoon the sky had become darker. My mummy told me to go to the launderette and I had her shopping trolley full of clothes.  As a child I was very disciplined and would never disobey my mummy because I hated the beatings. So although I didn’t want to go, as a child growing up there were never any choices.

My mummy  gave me some money to wash and dry the clothes and I left to go on my way.  I waited for the lift and came out on the ground floor.  As I walked across the park pulling the trolley I saw a familiar face. It was a guy they called Tony H.  I know he was a bad guy and I heard he was a rapist. I tried to avoid him and carried on walking with the trolley.


He started to walk towards me, I could feel the anxiety building up, I was so scared. My legs were trembling, but being as naive and stupid as I was I thought he was going to beat me up. As he approached me he shouted at me to walk.  He was now walking close behind me. I tried to run with the laundry trolley. I must have looked stupid, there was no way I would leave the trolley, so me and Tony H and the trolley went together; Fear gripped me for two reasons I didn’t know what he was going to do to me and I could see a penknife he used that to scare me.  I started walking wear he was leading me I was absolutely terrified. He kept telling  me to leave the trolley but the thought of that filled me with dread as I knew what was going to happen when I reached home.  So me and him and the trolley kept walking.



It was getting dark and I didn’t want the laundry to close, as I could not explain to my mummy  what I was doing or where I was.  He grabbed my arm around my back and led me underneath the arches. The walk seemed endless, By this time I was crying and begging but it didn’t matter. When we reached under the arches he pushed me against the wall and started tearing at my clothes, he  lifted up my top. I was exposed, I felt humiliated and dirty, I prayed for someone to come but no one came.  He warned me not to make any noise, he was stronger than me and grabbed me and then  threw me face down to the floor, I recall I grazed   my arms as he lifted up my skirt and tried to rip off my underwear. I held one side to try to keep it on, But I believed that this just got him more excited.  I was crying hysterically but he forced  me over onto my face with his arm and held me there so I could lie on my tummy. The more I struggled the worse the slaps became so I decided not to resist. I wanted him to do what he was doing quickly.

I was also scared he would slash my face with the knife, but instead he tore at my panties with the knife. Then he entered. I managed to wiggle so that his penis entered the back between my two bottom cheek.  He was not inside but, I cleverly squeezed my bottom cheek together and he continued assuming he had entered. As he carried on thrusting, I started to say the Lord’s Prayer Psalms 23,  I always did this when I was afraid.

Psalm 23
A psalm of David.

1 The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord

Then I felt the wetness running down my leg, as he finished he walked away, leaving me on a heap discarded like rubbish.  I felt so dirty, I was left traumatized and in pain.  Although this was a nasty experience, my concern now was the laundry that had not yet been completed. I quickly dressed myself, but left my torn underwear on the ground.

I  recall I ran all the way to the laundry without any underwear, as he had cut it off. Luckily the laundry was still open. I managed to wash the clothes in the launderette, I sat there in silence, but I couldn’t dry them. As there was insufficient time and the laundry was closing. In panick I packed the wet clothes and I  ran to another laundry down the road  in desperation, and the pain from the recent beatings, but they were all closed. When I reached home obviously I got into more trouble. I was labelled as a bad child, I recall her saying to me ” if you was a chicken, I would cut off your neck long time”.

Imagine my state of mind that awful night. I went into the bathroom and scrubbed my self with domestic bleach. image

I then sat in the floor in the corner thinking about what just happened.  I would never dare tell my mummy as she would try to get the devil out of me with beatings. After all everything was always my fault.  That night I did not sleep, as I thought of my father and all the bad things that had happened since my arrival in the uk.  I thought of how he handle my stepbrother, when he a abused me, but this time it was different there was no one to tell.  There was no one to defend me or tell me I would be alright. I was left alone with my thoughts. That night was the first time I contemplated dying.   After all who would miss me?

Little did I know my life would get a heluva lot worse the following Monday morning… .

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6 Responses to The laundry trolley as a witness.

  1. Riruro says:

    Why oh why did i start back reading this blog again after a long break heaven knows. my heart my soul my everything cries out. So sad 😦

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Mrs E says:

    Feeling so upset words can’t express,how sorry I am to know you went through this awful turmoil. My eyes filling up with tears of sorrow

    Liked by 1 person

  3. T says:

    I have no words… 😦


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