My mate sold me for sex

She forced me to have sex with strangers when I was just a kid

My best friend Amanda handed me a lit fag, and I took a drag. I’d not smoked before, but, desperate to impress her, I tried not to cough and splutter.

Amanda Spencer was 16 – three years older than me. She and I were joined at the hip.

‘Here comes Sam-anda,’ our friends would laugh, combining our names.

Only 13, I looked up to Amanda, and she took me under her wing.

See, like me, she’d grown up in foster care. She knew how tough it was, and she looked out for me.

The first time I’d met her was when I was hanging around Sheffield’s Castle Market. Amanda had asked if I wanted to try shoplifting.

She seemed so much older and cooler than me. And, as silly as it sounds, I really wanted her to like me.

So I stole a few bits from a sweet shop.

‘Good girl!’ Amanda beamed, putting her arm around me.

I was chuffed she was impressed. And, ever since then, we’d become best mates.

Amanda always seemed to have a lot of cash on her. She’d treat me to new trainers and takeaways. She even gave me booze and legal highs.

Rebellious, I loved the fact I was doing such grown-up things.

Then, one day, Amanda asked if I wanted to earn my own cash.

‘You can have money like this if you help me out,’ she said, waving a thick wad of twenties at me. ‘OK!’ I grinned, eagerly. I liked the idea of having my own money.

But, most importantly, I wanted to help my new best mate out.

‘You just need to have sex with a few men,’ Amanda shrugged, like it was no big deal.

I felt a knot tightening in my stomach. ‘But I’m a virgin,’ I gulped. Just a kid of 13, I wasn’t ready to have sex!

‘It’s easy,’ Amanda said. ‘You’ll be fine.’

Before I had time to think about it, Amanda took me to

She seemed so much older and cooler than me

a house nearby. Inside was a group of four or five men.

Plastered all over the walls were pictures of naked women.

‘I’ll be back later,’ Amanda said, pushing me towards the bunch of blokes. Panic rose inside me. I was shaking with fright, my legs like jelly. I felt sick, knowing what these men expected of me.

‘I don’t want to do it,’ I sobbed to Amanda, grabbing her arm.

‘Please don’t go!’ I cried, hysterical by now.

But Amanda just shook me off and left the house.

When I heard the door slam, terror consumed me.

‘She’s not coming back,’ one of the men smirked.

Then he led me to a room and started peeling off my clothes.

I was sick with fright, absolutely petrified.

But I knew there was no way out of the situation.

My heart was hammering in my chest, tears streaming down my cheeks as he raped me.

I tried looking at things in the room to distract myself.

‘Look into my eyes!’ my rapist ordered.

The pain was unbearable. But it was just the start.

I was raped twice more before Amanda finally collected me the next morning.

Bruised and bewildered, I followed her outside.

‘Good girl,’ she told me, handing me a few notes.

After that, I felt completely lost and broken.

Amanda was my best friend, the person I looked up to. Not wanting to disappoint her, I continued to do as she asked.

She’d regularly drop me off at different houses, where I’d be forced to have sex with men.

I was quick to learn to block it all out, pretend none of it was happening.

I’m only doing this to please Amanda and to earn money, I told myself. Over the next few years, I was passed around a sex ring, forced to sleep with over 40 men. My life gradually slid off the rails. I fell pregnant by a boyfriend, but we later split up. And, in February 2012, I was arrested for thieving. Held in a youth-detention centre, I was finally free from Amanda’s clutches. Speaking to a young girl one day, I opened up about the last few years. Just hearing myself recount it all made my skin crawl. And it was in that moment that I realised Amanda was no friend of mine. A friend would never force me to have sex with strangers.

I was just a kid when Amanda had preyed on me. It was sick, twisted and wrong. Eventually, I opened up to a youth worker, then the police.

I was released without charge 32 days later, and the police started to gather evidence on Amanda.

Meanwhile, in September 2012, I gave birth to my son. I knew I had to stay strong for him.

And, when Amanda was eventually arrested, I could finally breathe.

But it was two years before justice was served.

Hearing myself recount it all made my skin crawl