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‘But they weren’t dirty,’ I mumbled, sitting down at the table and feeling confused. I wrapped the dressing gown tighter around my body, suddenly awkward. Sometimes when I look back on what happened to me, I still wonder whether I could have fought back harder. Occasionally I’d hear movement from upstairs or thuds from around the rest of the house, but most of the time the building was silent.
Three hours later, and the washing machine had stopped spinning, but nobody had made any move to get the clothes out. If maybe I’d tried harder, I could have fought her off, smashed a window and escaped. As evening drew near and my tears began to run out, the woman opened the door again. They’re glad that you’ve gone.’ She handed me the tray, before walking the bed and placing a large towel over the cheap satin duvet cover and leaving.
In between each assault, the woman would come in to change the towel on the bed because it would be covered in blood.
Over the course of two years, I bled every single time I was raped. When one man punched me in the face, my face swelled up and I wondered if my jaw had been broken.
But in reality, I was still a child – hormonal and naïve – and after an incident with my boss left me in tears, I didn’t know what to do.
I walked home and stood outside my house, unable to bring myself to put my keys in the lock.
On one occasion, I accidentally got blood on the sheets, and she beat me up so hard I passed out. As I sobbed, the woman came down with a small cup of what looked like green medicine.