Violated: A Shocking and Harrowing Survival Story From the Notorious Rotherham Abuse Scandal

Amir and Rahim knew I was lying but it suited everyone to keep pretending I was fifteen, so that’s what we did.

Nadine and I had already run away from home a few times when Amir and Rahim suggested they come with us. I was pissed off at Mum because she’d given me another lecture about my drinking. We decided to camp out behind the Aldi supermarket, less than a mile from Ferham. We were having a great laugh, taking drugs and drinking cider, when Nadine and the guys had an idea.

‘I bet my mum has called the police,’ Nadine said. ‘We should pretend we’ve been kidnapped and ask them for ransom money.’

At first I thought she was joking, but Amir and Rahim were getting onboard with the plan and suddenly it was all happening. Now, I’m deeply ashamed that we put our parents through such trauma, but at the time it seemed like the best idea ever. We were swept up in the moment, high on drugs and drunk on cider. What could go wrong? It was just a laugh, wasn’t it? So Amir phoned both our families and demanded they pay £12,000 if they wanted to see us alive again. Nadine and I got so caught up in the drama that we were screaming in the background for effect. I’d even started spending the ransom money in my head, forgetting that Mum would never have that kind of cash going spare. Except, while other girls my age might have fantasised about buying lots of clothes and make-up, I was thinking of splashing out on loads of expensive drugs and having a huge party with dozens of taxi drivers in their thirties.

At twelve.

Poor Mum genuinely thought my life was in danger. Amir told her he’d kill us on the spot if she called the police, so she organised a huge search party of her own. Loads of her friends were trawling South Yorkshire in their cars, desperate for some clues as to where we might be. We eventually walked home a few nights later because we’d got fed up of sleeping rough. Mum looked even worse than she had done all the other times I’d run away. She hadn’t slept in days and her eyes were red and blotchy from crying. Now, I feel terrible, but back then I was just glad she had no energy left to give me a massive telling off.

By this point, we were well known to all of Amir and Rahim’s friends, and a few nights later this really old guy pulled up in a car beside Nadine and me when we were walking near Ferham Park. I’d had loads of weed and I was really quite stoned. There were three younger guys in the car already but the old man told us to get in. He must have been about seventy, maybe even older. I’d seen one of the guys in the car before, but the old man was a total stranger. He had such a strong Pakistani accent that I could hardly make out what he was saying, but he mentioned Amir’s name and I think he was telling Nadine he’d buy us booze. For the first time in months, I felt uneasy. It was one thing chilling with Amir’s mates in their taxis outside the school, but I didn’t recognise this man and he didn’t say where he was taking us. I opened my mouth to protest, but Nadine literally shoved me into the back seat.

We were driving around for what felt like ages when the old guy dropped two of the younger men off at a house in an estate I didn’t recognise. I hoped he’d take us back to Ferham, but he kept driving, chatting away to the man in the passenger seat in what I later realised was Punjabi, one of the main languages spoken in Pakistan.

‘This is weird,’ I said to Nadine. ‘Who is this guy? He’s ancient.’

‘Calm down. He knows Amir,’ she replied. ‘He says he’ll give us some vodka and then he’ll pay for our taxi home.’

‘Can’t we just ask him to take us home now?’ I said. The weed had gone to my head and I could feel the familiar fear and paranoia clouding my brain.

‘Oh, Sarah, shut up,’ she snapped. ‘We’re just going to chill with them – no big deal.’

In the end, the men took us to a grubby-looking Indian-style takeaway at the other end of Rotherham. The walls were yellow and dirty, and a stale cooking smell filled my nostrils. I later discovered it was coming from the ghee, a type of butter used to cook curries. I thought I might throw up because I was so stoned. I was probably drunk too. There weren’t any customers in the front of the shop but the old man led us downstairs into the basement, his younger mate following silently behind us. It was dark and horrible and smelled even worse than the main part of the shop because it was so damp and cold.

A wave of nausea washed over me as my eyes began to focus. In the centre of the poorly lit room was a really old telly, the kind that comes with a video instead of a DVD player. On the screen there were three or four naked bodies writhing around, making all sorts of weird noises. Suddenly, it dawned on me: this sick old man, old enough to be my granddad, wanted us to watch a porn film with him. Even thinking of it now makes me shudder.

I tried to turn away from the screen but this time I knew I was going to be sick for real. The horrible video had tipped me over the edge. I bolted back upstairs as fast as I could. The old man and Nadine were shouting behind me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I burst out of the front door and I’d just made it onto the street when I threw up everywhere.

There was another Asian takeaway just across the road, and I could see one of the workers staring at me as I vomited on the street, but I was too out of it to be embarrassed. All I could think was: how can Amir hang around with these weirdos? And why would he tell them to pick us up when we didn’t even know them?

The man in the takeaway across the road was trying to make eye contact with me but I couldn’t hold his gaze because I felt so dizzy. I started to wonder if he often saw young girls like me out on the street, fleeing from the horrible basement.

‘What the fuck was that all about?’

I became aware of Nadine’s voice behind me, and I turned round to see her huge frame towering over me, her red face contorted with anger. But before I could answer her, the young man in the other takeaway was making his way over to us.

‘You all right there, girls?’ he asked. He was smiling and looked friendly. He was way older than us, of course, but at least he wasn’t a pensioner.

‘Just not feeling too good,’ I replied.

‘Why don’t you come over to our shop and we’ll give you some food?’ he suggested. ‘That might make you feel better.’

I looked to Nadine and she nodded. ‘Yeah, okay then,’ she said.

‘Cool,’ our new friend said. ‘We’ll get you something to eat then we’ll give you some money for a taxi home.’

The man didn’t tell us his name but I didn’t really care. I just wanted an excuse to get away from the old guy and his basement, so I didn’t ask any questions. The shop was quite cramped but he took us through to the back and gave us a chicken kebab and some chips. It was only when I started eating that I realised how hungry I was. I must have been really shovelling the food into my mouth because I was getting through it even faster than Nadine.

‘Someone’s got the munchies,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.

Once we’d finished eating, Nadine asked the man for some taxi money like he’d promised.

‘It’s in my flat,’ he told us. ‘Come with me. I won’t be long.’

The flat was only a couple of streets away. It had a little red door, and before he’d turned the key to let us in I could hear voices, male voices, speaking in a language we didn’t understand. It wasn’t Punjabi but the accents sounded Asian. The door to the living room was slightly ajar, and there were four men sitting on the floor, laughing and talking. I was still wasted, so I’m not sure how old they were, but they were all at least twenty-five.

I was sure the man from the new takeaway could hear my heart hammering in my chest as he locked us in. I’d thought he was a kind stranger, a sort of Good Samaritan who’d decided to rescue us from the creepy old man and his porn video, but now he seemed just as scary and weird as they had.

‘So, what are you girls going to do for us, then?’ he asked. He wasn’t smiling any more.

We didn’t have to ask what he meant. He started going on and on about the free food, how he’d given it to us for nothing and now he and his friends wanted us to pay them back, but the words wouldn’t register because my mind was racing so fast, wondering how on earth this was happening because it was never part of the deal that these men would get anything in return.

‘No,’ I said, as firmly as I could, but my voice had started to tremble.

‘No?’ the man echoed. ‘But how will you get home if we don’t give you the money for a taxi?’

Suddenly, I was screaming. Nadine was shaking me, trying to get me to shut up, but even if I’d wanted to be quiet I wouldn’t have been able to close my mouth. My screams were getting louder and louder, and the man was beginning to look worried, telling me to stop, but nothing would work. Eventually, he unlocked the door, shoving us out into the cold night. I think he was scared the neighbours might hear.

Nadine and I didn’t know what to do – we were at the other side of town and I was in no state to walk all the way home. Nadine had no credit left on her mobile, so we legged it down the street away from the flat and kept running onto the main road. I sped up as we passed the first takeaway, just in case the old guy was still lurking around. We reached a payphone halfway down the street and Nadine stopped in her tracks, panting furiously.

‘This is what happens when you act like that,’ she said, fishing a few 10p pieces from the pocket of her jeans. ‘They leave you in the middle of nowhere.’

I tried to ignore the anger in her voice. ‘Who are you phoning?’ I asked.

‘Just this sex chat-up line. I always phone it when I’m stranded.’

‘How does that work?’

‘Oh, I just tell some idiot I’ll give him a blow job and then he comes out in his car to get me.’ Nadine said this as if it was the most natural thing in the world, the obvious solution to the problem. ‘Always works, sad fuckers.’

There were two payphones, back to back, so I picked up the receiver on the second one and began to dial. Catching sight of me, Nadine put her hand over the mouthpiece and shot me one of her looks that always chilled me to the bone.

‘You’d better not be ringing the coppers, Sarah,’ she said. ‘Seriously. I’ll fucking kill you.’

But it was too late.

Chapter Six

Stolen Innocence (#uf6f390fb-6ae1-51f4-9ad3-e3bed8942194)

Within seconds of my 999 call, a police car was tearing up the street, sirens blazing. I hadn’t told them anything about the men, just that we were runaways and we needed to get home. Nadine was still on the phone, but she hung up as soon as she heard the commotion.

‘You fucking idiot,’ she said. ‘Piggy bastards.’

Nadine hated the police and nearly always called them ‘pigs’ or ‘piggy bastards’. She glowered as a female copper climbed out of the car and started asking us some questions about where we’d been. Neither of us gave anything away. The copper was all right, I guess, but she insisted on taking us down to the station before we could go home.

There was another officer driving the car but he didn’t say much. When we pulled into the car park, the first copper took Nadine inside but told me to stay in the car. I’m still not sure why.