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

‘A drug?’ I echoed.

‘Yeah, cocaine,’ Lynsey said. ‘But she only takes it sometimes.’

When we got to the house Elaine was getting ready to go out, and she looked a lot different from the dishevelled woman I’d met the day before. Gone were the creased vest top and faded jeans; now she was wearing a tight black dress and high-heeled boots which came all the way up to her knee. Her hair was down and it looked like she’d washed it. She’d also put on some bright-red lipstick.

‘I’m off,’ she said. ‘See you later.’

I soon discovered that Lynsey often wasn’t alone when Elaine was out. Elaine had a little cousin called David, who was fourteen. He used to come round too, and he’d bring all his mates. I quickly realised that Elaine’s was a bit of a dosshouse. Now, as a mother myself, I’m horrified that young children – babies, even – were allowed anywhere near a place like that, but at the time I wasn’t thinking about it; I was just fascinated at how totally different it was from my own home, my own way of life.

There were around six teenage boys sitting cross-legged on the floor when I walked into the living room – Elaine only had one couch and it was totally falling apart, with holes where the stuffing oozed out – and there were lots of strange-looking green leaves on the table. One of David’s mates was sucking on a big, gold thing that looked like a pipe.

‘Ever tried a bong?’ he asked me, without introducing himself. ‘Have a shot. You’ll love it.’

‘A what?’ I said.

‘It’s weed,’ Lynsey whispered.

I’d heard people talking about weed before, but I had no idea what it would do to my body if I took it. But David’s friend handed the bong to Lynsey and she inhaled deeply, giggling a little nervously. Then, she passed it to me. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. What would Mum do if she found out I’d taken drugs – me, a nine-year-old girl? She’d go absolutely spare, of course. But as I’d always been an outcast at school, the idea of having cool, older friends appealed to me. I wanted to fit in so, although I was too young to even know what I was doing, I took the bong from Lynsey and, palms sweaty, I breathed in.

I spluttered as the fumes entered my lungs, and the older boys started to laugh, but I kept going as I didn’t want to lose face. After I’d taken a few puffs, I passed the bong back but my brain was already starting to feel a bit fuzzy. A few minutes later, the room was spinning and I started to retch. Bile was rising in my throat, as if I was going to be sick, but nothing else would come.

‘Lynsey,’ I said, tugging on the sleeve of her hoodie. ‘Lynsey, I feel really weird.’

‘Relax,’ she replied. ‘It’s just ’cause it’s your first time.’

‘No,’ I said, making no attempt to hide the desperation in my voice. ‘No, you don’t get it. I think there’s something wrong with me.’

Overhearing us, David asked what was wrong.

‘What have you just given me?’ I asked. By now, I was almost in tears. ‘I feel really sick.’

I couldn’t understand why David and his mates were laughing, and it only made me more scared. The tears which had been threatening to fall now began to spill down my face, but still the boys didn’t take any notice.

‘What’s going on?’ I sobbed. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

‘Now you’ve tried weed, you’ll not be allowed to go home,’ David said.

My throat tightened with panic. ‘What?’ I stammered.

‘You won’t even get to say bye to your mum,’ said the boy who had given me the bong. He still hadn’t told me his name.

‘The doctors are on their way to get you now,’ David went on. ‘They’re coming to pick you up.’

Of course, none of this made sense, and my brain felt so cloudy that I convinced myself the boys were telling the truth. And anyway, I was only nine. The thought of never seeing my mum again was really frightening, and in my mind at that moment it could easily have been true. I could feel the terror rising in my chest but I was powerless to stop it. My weak heart was racing and tears were streaming down my face. I no longer knew who was saying what; all I knew was that I needed to get out of Elaine’s, and fast, and get home to Mum before all of these horrible people took me away to God knows where.

I let out a shrill scream, but it was like the noise had come from someone else’s body, not mine. Lynsey was looking at the ground – I think she felt a bit bad for me – but the boys were hooting and howling with laughter. I sprang to my feet, really terrified now, and raced to the front door, but David got there before me, blocking it with his body.

‘You can’t leave, Sarah,’ he said. ‘The doctors are coming, remember? They’re going to lock you up with all the crazy people.’

Fear and paranoia flooded my body as I tried to wrestle with him, but it was no use: I was a little nine-year-old girl, barely reaching his chest, and he was a fourteen-year-old boy, with the body of a man.

‘Please, let me out!’ I begged him. ‘Please let me go home to my mum!’

The corners of David’s mouth were turning up, as if he was trying not to giggle, but I didn’t see – I was still dizzy. I ran back into the living room where Lynsey was still sitting on the floor. She had the bong in her hands. Suddenly, I felt like I was going to be sick, as if it was really happening this time. My stomach was churning violently and I ran to the corner of the room, retching loudly.

‘Look!’ David shouted. ‘She’s going to whitey!’

He and his mates started whooping with laughter again. As my stomach settled, I turned back round to face David.

‘Please, can I go?’ I whispered.

‘What did I tell you?’ he replied. ‘Doctors are on their way.’

Helpless, I turned to Lynsey. ‘Lynsey, they won’t let me out!’ I cried. ‘Lynsey, you need to help me! Call the police!’

The boys thought this was hilarious, but Lynsey shot David an uneasy glance and I could tell he was starting to feel a bit mean.

‘Calm down,’ he said. ‘We’re only messing.’

I still felt shaky when I got home, but luckily Mum wasn’t there. She’d started working shifts at a local pub and Mark had been left in charge of us. I got myself a glass of water and climbed into bed. Laura was already fast asleep at the other side of the room. But a few minutes later, I knew I was going to be sick – or ‘whitey’, as the boys had called it – for real. I ran into the bathroom and threw up, praying Mark hadn’t heard.

The next morning, I still felt edgy and paranoid, and I was convinced Mum would guess straight away what I’d been up to, but she’d come in late from work and she was tired and busy, chattering away to me about school and whether or not I needed my PE kit that day.

I’d hated the weed. It was horrible, plus the boys that hung around at Elaine’s didn’t seem very nice. But despite that, when Lynsey asked me back a few nights later, for some reason I said yes. I guess it was something to do, and being with Lynsey made me feel like I belonged somewhere. I needed that, now I was back to having no friends at school.

‘God, you were so stoned the other night,’ Lynsey said as we walked to Elaine’s. ‘I thought you were going to whitey everywhere.’

‘I did when I got in,’ I admitted. ‘It was horrible.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ Lynsey said. ‘I was dead paranoid the first time, too, but now it’s just a laugh.’

Gradually, the boys stopped taking the piss out of me, but they kept giving me weed. I suppose they were only really kids themselves and they didn’t see it as a big deal. For the next year and a half, Lynsey and I spent lots of our free time at Elaine’s. She was my only real friend and I felt safe with her, safe even in that house, despite all the crazy stuff that went on there. It was an escape from being so lonely at school and at home. At last I had somewhere to go with someone who actually wanted to spend time with me.

It wasn’t long before I started smoking fags, too. It was just the done thing at Elaine’s, plus she would sometimes give us some for free as a ‘treat’ for watching the kids when she was out. I suppose it should have been obvious to me that she was working as a prostitute. After all, not many single, teenage mums can afford to buy cocaine like it’s going out of fashion. But I’d just turned ten at that point and I didn’t even really know what a prostitute was. I just thought Elaine was always busy with her mates or working the odd shift in a pub here and there. It was only years later, when I got talking to a girl who knew her, that I found out what was really going on when she disappeared in her short dresses and high-heeled boots.

In the summer of 2002, just before I started Year 6, Lynsey and I also started drinking. Sometimes the boys we knew from Elaine’s would take us down to Ferham Park and buy a couple of bottles of cheap cider. For all that my first experience with weed had been horrible, I loved getting drunk from the start. As soon as the cider hit my bloodstream it gave me a bit of a buzz. For the first time in my life I was loud and confident, and even David and his mates thought I was a laugh. At least I think they did – I’m still not quite sure if they were still laughing at me. Of course, I always drank a bit too much and I’d often end up throwing up in the bushes, but I didn’t really care. It was all in the name of good fun, right?

Sometimes Elaine would buy us cider too, if we agreed to the odd chore or to stay an hour or so longer with the kids. She knew what age we were but she needed something to bribe us with, and it seemed the easiest way of getting us to do her a favour here and there. Mostly, she was all right, but sometimes she could have a right temper on her. I suppose it was because of all the drugs she took, but back then I just thought she was really moody. One day, she asked me to wash some pots for her. It seemed a bit pointless, because the house was a total tip and I never saw her cook much, but I agreed anyway as I wanted her to buy me some booze when she went to the shop. I was scrubbing them for ages and I thought they looked much better, as they’d really been minging before, but when Elaine came in to inspect them she began hurling them against the wall.

‘You stupid bitch!’ she thundered. ‘You can’t even wash fucking pots right!’

‘What’s wrong with them?’ I asked, bewildered.

‘Look at this one!’ she said, her voice still raised as she held the pot in the air. For a second, I wondered if she was going to hit me with it, but instead she pointed to the tiniest speck of dirt on the handle. It didn’t look like food; it was probably just muck from her dirty kitchen.

‘Sorry,’ I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

‘Yeah, well, so you should be!’ she snapped. ‘This is a fucking disgrace. After all I do for you, you can’t even wash a pot right.’