Eeny Meeny

66

I remember that day so clearly. Everything that came after – the misery, the violence, the desolation – stemmed from that day. Things had been grim before that for sure, but I expected that. I hadn’t been expecting this.

There had been a sort of party at ours – my Uncle Jimmy’s birthday. They’d been at the booze all day – someone had had a result at the bookies – and everyone was even more wasted than usual. The neighbours had already been round twice, shouting obscenities about the noise, but my folks didn’t give a shit. They just cranked it up another notch – ‘Enjoy Yourself’ by the Specials blasting out at full volume. We hung around trying to cadge the odd ciggy or can but we weren’t welcome. In the end there’s nothing more depressing than a group of middle-aged wankers dancing and grinding so I pissed off to bed. My mum had passed out by that point and Dad and his ‘mates’ would often take advantage of her insensibility to play stupid pranks on her. He pissed on her once when she was asleep – they all did – and I didn’t like watching that, so I was better off out of it.

Initially, I thought he’d got the wrong room. That he was so wasted that he couldn’t tell which way was up. Then I was pissed off – I’d hardly slept a wink as it was. What chance would I have of sleeping now, with him passed out next to me? But he wasn’t asleep. And he wasn’t interested in sleeping either.

At first I didn’t move. I was just too shocked. His right hand was clamped around my right tit. Then I tried to bat his hand off, but couldn’t. He tightened his grip. I remember it really hurt as he squeezed harder. Now I was struggling. I hoped this was just a stupid joke, but I think I already knew that it wasn’t. Now he was climbing on top of me, pinning me down on the narrow bed.

I think I started begging now, pleading with him to stop, but his fingers were already up my nightdress, seeking an opening. His hands were rough and hairy and I remember wincing in pain as he shoved his fist inside me. I was still a virgin – only thirteen – I wasn’t made for someone like him. His other hand pushed my head into the pillow. I closed my eyes and hoped that I would die. That it would stop. But it didn’t – he just kept on, relentless, grunting all the while.

Eventually he got bored or ran out of puff. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he got off the bed and walked back to the doorway. I turned to make sure he was really going and only then did I realize that we’d had an audience. Jimmy and a couple of mates were watching, smiling and laughing together. My dad stumbled past them into the hallway. Jimmy let him go, then started to unbuckle his belt.

And I realized that it was his turn now and that this was just the beginning.