Evil paedo’s plan to get me pregnant!
He was the only dad that Sammy, 30, had ever known, then he unleashed his sick plan
As his hand slid up my skirt, I started trembling
My face close to the sketch pad, I concentrated hard as I worked on my drawing – it was a picture of a cute puppy.
‘Very good,’ my stepdad Peter Hayes, then 25, smiled.
Before I knew it, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me.
‘Here, draw the ears like this,’ he said, showing me how.
Aged 7, I loved drawing with Peter. We’d spend hours together, just the two of us.
Peter had been in my life since I was 5. My biological father and mother had split up when I was 4, and I didn’t have a relationship with my real dad.
Peter was the only father figure I’d ever really known.
If we weren’t drawing together, he’d cuddle me and read me bedtime stories.
But, when I was aged
11, things changed.
One day after school, I was doing homework in my room when Peter came in.
Mum was out and
I assumed he was just going to ask what I fancied for tea.
Instead, he sat on the bed next to me and began touching my legs.
Frozen, I didn’t say a word. What was happening?
As his hands slid up my skirt and into my knickers, I started trembling.
Outside, I could hear the chimes of the ice-cream van. I focused on that, tried to block out what was happening. Minutes passed, then… ‘Don’t tell your mum,’ Hayes told me sternly, getting up and walking out.
I was too young to understand what had just happened to me.
So I bottled it up, didn’t tell a soul.
But it happened again and again. Hayes would grope me in my bedroom after school, often as the music from the ice-cream van chimed outside.
I’d think about all the people buying choc-ices, unaware of what was going on behind my bedroom curtains.
I longed to be out there with them. Free – away from him.
By 12, I’d learnt about sex at school and I knew what Hayes was doing was wrong.
He’s a pervert, I’d think, my skin crawling.
But he’d make threats to scare me out of telling anyone.
‘Just remember the beating you’ll get,’ he’d warn menacingly.
When I was a teenager, Hayes hated the idea of me having a relationship.
‘You’re too young!’ he’d shout. ‘I’d better not find out that you’ve got a boyfriend.’
Mum thought he was simply being a protective stepdad. But I knew the dark truth. Hayes wanted to be the only one who touched me.
One day when I was 16, Hayes and I were at home alone together.
I was in the living room when he came charging at me.
Forcing himself on me, he bent me over the sofa.
Then he held me down and raped me.
Pain ripped through me.
‘Peter, stop!’ I begged, terrified.
‘Shhh,’ he replied. ‘I want to get you pregnant.’
Blood trickled down my legs and, after he’d finished, he went upstairs to run a bath.
‘Get in there and clean yourself up,’ he ordered sharply.
I felt so dirty and ashamed. I wanted to scrub away every trace of him from my skin.
After, I shut myself in my bedroom, hugging my knees. I couldn’t stop crying, shaking.
Hayes, the man I saw as a dad, had brutally stolen my virginity.
And I was terrified of his plans to make me pregnant…
Mum’s bathroom mats were stained with my blood, so Hayes stuffed them into the back of my wardrobe.
‘I’ll have to buy you some new ones, love,’ he told Mum when she got home. ‘Sammy’s had her period and it’s ruined them.’
Oblivious, Mum believed his sick lies.
A while before, Mum had taken me to the doctor to be put on the contraceptive Pill, because we were told it helped with period cramps.
After that, Hayes would hunt for my Pills and throw them away.
‘Tell your mum you’ve been taking them,’ he instructed. ‘I’m going to get you pregnant, and you’ll tell everyone it’s a boy from school’s baby.’ He had it all worked out. His twisted plan gave me the chills.
I lived in fear of him and, every time he touched me, it was as if my body went into shock – paralysed with fright.
Then one night, when I was still 16, Mum and Hayes came home after an evening out drinking with friends.
Mum went to bed, but Hayes had other ideas.
‘I’ll be up in a minute, get yourself ready,’ he winked, as I climbed the stairs.
My whole body trembled. And finally, in that moment, I just snapped.
There was no way I was waiting around for Hayes to rape me again, so I threw some clothes into bags.
Minutes later, I crept downstairs and realised Hayes had passed out on the sofa.
I ran out of the front door, didn’t turn back as I made my way to Mum’s friend’s house.
‘What on earth?’ she cried, opening the door to me.
‘Peter’s been raping me,’ I sobbed, blurting it all
I wasn’t going to wait around for him to rape me again
out to her.
‘You need to tell the police!’ she cried, shocked.
She held my hand, as I phoned them. And she was so supportive when they arrived and I made a statement.
‘I’m not going back home,’ I told officers.
So the Social Services were called, and I was moved into a safe house.
Shortly after, I was told Peter Hayes had been arrested.
But I was so scarred by his abuse, I struggled to move on. I kept getting awful flashbacks.
Every time I heard the sound of an ice-cream van, my nerves were shot to pieces.
Just hearing those chimes made me feel physically sick.
In the end, it all became too much for me and I was put on antidepressants.
Then in July 2006, Peter Anthony Hayes, then 37, appeared at Stoke-onTrent Crown Court.
At the last minute, he pleaded guilty to a string of charges, including indecent assault on a female and rape.
He was jailed, and it was a relief to know he’d spend years behind bars.
I refused to let
Hayes destroy my future, though.
So, while he was locked up, I started living my life again.
By that time, I’d met my boyfriend Joe, while out for drinks with friends.
I’d accidentally spilled a drink on him at the bar, and he’d seen the funny side.
We’d fallen for each other and, when I told him about Hayes, he became my rock.
As the years passed, Joe helped me to move on and forget about Hayes.
But, one day in 2016, I received a letter from the parole board.
Hayes had applied for parole.
I felt my heart pounding. He’d served 10 years, but it didn’t seem enough for what he’d done.
‘He doesn’t deserve to be let out of jail!’ I cried. It brought everything flooding back again.
The rape, the touching, the music from the ice-cream vans… It all triggered my anxiety and depression again.
I decided to write to the parole board with my victim-impact statement, explaining the effect Hayes’ abuse still had on me.
Thankfully, it was enough to keep Hayes locked up.
For now, he remains in prison. But his minimum sentence has passed now, so I know he could be released any day.
That’s why I’ve moved to a different area.
I can’t bear the thought of bumping into him.
Hayes destroyed a huge part of my life, but I’m just relieved his vile plans to get me pregnant were scuppered.
When I have a baby, it’ll be with the man I love. Not with some sick, twisted pervert.