Chapter 5

      Rajan was Kurdish. He had only been in England for about six months and although he didn’t speak much English, we managed to communicate quite well. I still felt as though I was going through the break-up of my relationship with Tom, and when Rajan tried to kiss me in the park one day, I felt really uncomfortable. I was shocked too, not because I realised that there was anything wrong with a 27-year-old man trying to kiss a 12-year-old girl, but because it didn’t seem right for him to be doing it in front of little Zoe. Despite having only a very hazy idea of what was okay and what wasn’t in terms of my relationships with other people, I was adamant that I didn’t want to play around while she was with me. In fact, although it was nice to have someone to talk to, I went to the park to play with Zoe and that was all I really wanted to do while I was there.

      After that first attempt to kiss me, Rajan kept asking me to go to the park on my own, and when I eventually agreed and went there alone one afternoon, he kissed me and touched me. I didn’t like what he was doing. It made me feel embarrassed and uneasy. Although I didn’t really know anything about Rajan, and I didn’t usually pick up on things that lay below the surface with people, I had a sense that he was like a tightly wound coil and might explode into anger if I said the wrong thing. I don’t suppose I would have noticed it at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was a bit like my mum in that respect. He had the same sort of tension inside him and his eyes didn’t always smile when his mouth did. But my experiences at primary school had taught me to be wary of upsetting people in case they shouted at me and I was quite scared of him, which is why I didn’t have the courage to tell him to stop.

      In fact, I didn’t really like Rajan. I certainly didn’t feel the same way about him as I had done about Tom. I know it sounds odd to say this, considering the circumstances of my relationship with Tom, but I always felt safe when I was with him. Whereas Rajan had a slightly predatory, boy-approaching-girl attitude towards me that I didn’t like at all.

      I looked as young as I was, or even younger, but when I told him, the first time we met, that I was 12 years old he said that was a good thing, because it meant that I was a virgin. I didn’t really know why that would matter to him, until I eventually gave in to his constant pressure and thinly-veiled bullying and went back to his flat one day. I had only ever had anal sex with Tom, so it really was the first time for me. But, for some reason, I didn’t bleed.

      Rajan was angry with me afterwards, shouting at me and calling me dirty. Suddenly, he didn’t look handsome at all, with his lips pulled into a thin line of disgust, and he yelled at me, ‘You are not a virgin! Why do you lie to me? How many men did you sleep with?’

      I was frightened by his reaction and by his obvious revulsion. He was the second man I had been intimate with and the second man who had been angry with me afterwards. Once again, I thought I had done something wrong and felt as ashamed as if I really had had sex with countless other men, as Rajan seemed to be so convinced I had.

      Unfortunately, I was very unworldly – even for a 12-year-old – and easily intimidated, so I didn’t have the confidence to walk away. Instead, I went back to his flat the next time he asked me – which he did a couple of days later, despite his apparent disgust – and on many occasions after that. I didn’t agree to go because having sex with Rajan was a pleasant experience. It never was. In fact, I didn’t ever feel anything, except for a strange sensation that I can only describe as like watching from outside my own body. Perhaps it was an early sign of the dissociation I began to experience much later as a reaction to extreme stress.

      It’s an odd feeling being with someone who wants to have sex with you