I’ve never written any details of the physical abuse Mr Boss Man and his runners did to me. But I’m going to now because they haven’t come near me or my flat for over a week, and I’m beginning to feel safe.
So here goes…
At the beginning it was mostly threats. I’d be held up against the wall with a kitchen knife to my throat, or I’d get slapped, backhanded round the face. After the first 3 weeks it started to get worse. I’d get slapped then punched hard in the stomach, or they’d grab a handful of my hair and smash my head into the wall. Then one of their friends started groping me when he came round, which eventually moved onto him forcing his hands down my knickers and that then turned into full blown rape. He bought his mate over one day and encouraged him to have his way with me. The worst time was when a group of them got high and gang raped me; 5 of them. I can’t write about that.
One of the runners stubbed cigarettes out on my leg. It would burn through my clothes and hiss as it went into my skin. Another runner would use his knife to nick my skin or make little slices. He’d randomly say “let’s see how sharp my shank is shall we?” then slice my arm or leg. Or he’d walk past me and stab me just hard enough to nick me and draw blood. The rest started making little cuts when they had me up against the wall threatening me. But rather than hold the knife against my neck, they’d hold it to the middle of my chest just above the neckline of the top I was wearing and cut me there. One of them would punch me in the head every single time he walked past, or aim a kick at my knees if I was standing up so my legs would buckle. It got to the point where I was demanding they leave so often that I ended up getting hurt for asking. They’d bend my arm up behind my back, march me to the front door, open the door, put my fingers up against the frame and smash the door onto my fingers. My fingers ended up swelling up so much I couldn’t bend them, then they went black from the bruising.
They’d keep me awake for DAYS until I was hallucinating with tiredness. They’d smash my possessions up; furniture, photo frames, mugs and glasses, anything really. Everything got broken, nicked or torn to shreds from their knives. I was forbidden to eat, not allowed to wash and they took my mental health medication away.
Mr Boss Man liked to spike me. I never knew what he used but oh my God it would make me ill. I’d be vomiting, collapsed on the floor too weak to move, hearing voices.
They would spit on me, flick ash from their cigarettes on me and throw food at me. One of them would stamp on my toes every single time he got up to go and serve a customer. They would take turns playing that game where you spread your fingers out on a table and stab the knife down in-between each finger in concession trying to see how fast they could go. I don’t know how the hell I still have all my fingers.
I can’t carry on but that’s about all of it. I’ve got myself all hysterical but God I needed to get that out.