Abused by sister’s fiance
Iwas giggling so much, I nearly wet myself.
My older sister Michelle’s boyfriend Dave was such a laugh. Every time her back was turned, he’d pull a funny face, leaving me in stitches.
‘What are you two up to?’ Michelle asked. ‘Nothing,’ Dave replied. I had three sisters, Michelle, Jody and Katie.
We were all close, a gang of best mates.
But when I was 8, it was Michelle, 14, my oldest sister, that I really looked up to. Dave, 21, was much older. My parents really weren’t too happy about their relationship.
‘He’s too old for you,’ I’d hear Dad telling Michelle. Not that she listened. Besides, I liked Dave and he always paid me attention.
I was a keen gymnast, and he’d watch me for ages as I did handstands and cartwheels.
Then, one evening, I’d just got ready for bed when Dave and I were alone in the kitchen.
‘Bet you a quid you can’t do a handstand,’ he winked. ‘You’re on!’ I replied. As I stood on my hands and my nightie flipped over my head, I was too young and naive to be worried about the fact I wasn’t wearing knickers.
‘I’ll give you another pound if you can hold it for three minutes,’ Dave said.
Challenge accepted, I stayed on my hands.
Then he bet me I couldn’t put one leg down at a time. So I did that, too. ‘You’re really good!’ he smiled.
Just a kid, I didn’t see anything wrong with Dave’s challenges.
Soon enough, his charm and sense of humour won both my parents over.
When they took Michelle to netball tournaments, Dave would babysit me.
But when he put me to bed, his hands would slide under the covers.
He’d grope my bum and between my legs.
But I didn’t think to mention it to anyone. I didn’t know it was wrong.
When Michelle was 16, she moved in with Dave. Shortly after, they got engaged.
Mum and Dad weren’t happy, but Michelle was determined to live her own life. Then when I was 11, Dave started taking me to work with him.
He’d pick me up at 6am on a Saturday, then drive me to the office where he worked for a car-hire company.
In the empty office, Dave would get me to touch him while he groped me.
‘I’ll give you £20 so you can buy yourself something nice,’ he’d offer afterwards.
It wasn’t until I was
Finally, I realised that what he was doing was wrong...
12 that I learnt about sex, at school.
And then, finally, I realised what Dave was doing was wrong.
He wasn’t just my sister’s fun, jokey boyfriend.
He was a sick pervert. And Michelle was planning to marry him!
Still, I was just a kid – I didn’t think anyone would believe me if I told. So I stayed quiet, bottled it up. Whenever Dave and I were alone together, I’d refuse to do what he told me to.
At school, I started mixing with the wrong crowd.
Mum and Dad just thought I was a rebellious teenager, were oblivious to the truth.
I’d lie to them about staying at a friend’s house, then meet my friends in the park and drink cider. One time, Dave saw me. And when I refused to let him touch me, he began to blackmail me.
‘I’ll tell your parents I saw you drinking,’ he said. Twisted.
I hated the thought of Michelle marrying that man. Of him being a part of our family for good.
But how could I tell Michelle that her fiance was a pervert? She’ll hate me, I thought. The shame I felt about the abuse made it easy to blame myself.
Then, when Michelle was 21, she and Dave split up. ‘It’s over,’ she said. I felt a wave of relief.
I stopped seeing Dave after that.
Finally able to move on, I tried to put the abuse behind me.
Aged 20, I met someone – and in 2000 we got married.
Shortly after, in October 2001, my daughter was born, closely followed by my son.
I was as close as ever to my sisters.
But no matter how hard I tried to forget, Dave’s abuse still tormented me.
It hung over me like a black cloud.
And over the years, I became depressed.
In 2008, my depression consumed me and I was seen at a psychiatric assessment unit. Sensing something was up, Jody contacted me...
‘I can tell you’re hiding something,’ she pressed.
She’d thought there was a reason behind my depression.
We were so close, knew each other inside out. But there was a secret I’d never shared with her, and she’d picked up on it.
‘Stop being silly,’ I laughed. ‘I’m fine.’
But she was convinced there was something wrong – and, for some reason, she thought it had something to do with Dave.
‘Did he ever hurt you?’ she persisted.
Backed into a corner, I could feel myself breaking...
his abuse tormented me, hung over me like a cloud