Chronicles of a Teenage Runaway: Part 2.
I’d recommend reading part 1 first. http://revenga73.wordpress.com/2012/10/24/chronicles-of-a-teenage-runaway-part-1/
So, Matt drops me off at Mickey’s flat. He’s a good friend of mine and he lives with a girl I knew vaguely from school. She was in the year above me. They both have big rooms, I’m squeezed into the box room with a load of broken furniture, but I don’t mind. I only have around 2 black bags of possessions and 2 guitars after all! But it’s clean and everything works and they both work early so I get to sleep undisturbed. I actually feel quite safe here, in a way I never quite did at Stan’s, even before the shit hit the fan. We cook together and spend time with each other. Naturally, it can’t last. Mickey and the girl have a pregnant friend who wants my room so after a week of safety, with 12 hours notice, I have to find somewhere else to stay.
I met a guy a few days ago, called Sim, who really sympathised with my situation. He assured me that I could stay with him if I needed to, he lives with his Dad and it’s a safe place to be. They’ve sheltered people in the past who have needed help. I call him up and he agrees to let me stay. I don’t feel 100% comfortable with the situation, but I’m desperate. Desperation is a common theme in this next year. I’m 16, I’m alone and I’m so, so scared.
I turn up the next day with my two black bags and two guitar cases. Sim shows me to my room. “Two beds? Are we expecting someone else?” No. Turns out this is his room. But I’m not to worry, he’s done this before, it’s totally safe. I don’t really have a choice now. I have nowhere else to go. But why didn’t he tell me this in the first place, so I could decide if that was cool with me?
For the first four days it’s fine. I’m not really there much anyway, I’m travelling to the nearest city most days, trying to secure a job and sort out a more permanent place to stay. I wake up one night to find him standing over my bed. I hold my breath and eventually he goes away. He keeps trying to talk to me about sex, telling me his girlfriend is a frigid bitch and he deserves so much better.
We went for a drive the next night with a few of his friends. I didn’t really want to be in such close proximity to him, but he accused me of using his place as a doss house and made me feel really guilty, so I agreed. His friends park up after about half an hour and start smoking weed. They don’t pay any attention to me and Sim, sat in the backseat. Sim starts touching me up. His friends get out of the car, lock the front doors and walk away. It’s a hatchback, so I don’t have direct access to a door. I don’t know where I am either. I’m pushing his hands away but he’s getting more and more insistent. He shoves his hands up my top, under my bra. He pinches my nipples, really, really hard. I whimper – I can’t help it. He thinks that means I’m enjoying it, so he forces his hands up my skirt. He’s got me pinned against the inside of the car with one arm across my throat and now he’s forcing his fingers inside me. I can’t help it; I start crying. Sim gets really angry and for a minute I think he’s going to keep pressing on my throat until I’m a goner. He pulls away abruptly. Calls me a whore and a cocktease. What did I expect, coming to live with him? Of course he was going to think I was willing to fuck him!
His friends drop us back. I still have nowhere to go so I have to follow him in. I bolt straight for the bathroom and take a really long shower. I’m desperately hoping he’ll be asleep by the time I get back in the room. No such luck. He’s laid on his bed, masturbating and staring straight at me as I walk through the door. I just flip the light off and get straight into bed, fully clothed. The next day, he throws me out.