TRUE-LIFE
Everyone thought he was the perfect dad – except me
Ellie Ashbrook, 23, St Helens, Merseyside
Playing with my dolls in front of the TV, I heard keys rattle in the door.
‘Dad’s home!’
I called, racing into the hallway.
My dad David, then 45, swept me up into a hug.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ he smiled, before greeting my mum, then 40.
It was 2009 and, aged 8, I was a real daddy’s girl.
When Dad had time off from running his brick-laying business, he’d spoil me and my little brother, then 4, with toys, clothes and holidays.
He lavished me with affection, and it meant I gravitated towards him, rather than Mum.
The following year, we moved into a bigger house.
Dad spent more time at home renovating, while Mum worked an office job.
We became closer.
Then, one afternoon in 2012, when I was 11, he kissed me on the neck.
Sucked so hard, it left a dark mark.
That was weird, I thought.
Feeling embarrassed, I covered it with a scarf until it faded.
Only, months later, I woke in the night to Dad stroking my hair.
He kissed me all over, his hands inside my pyjamas.
After, and without a word, he went back to his bed.
I lay there, thoughts crashing through my mind.
Is this what dads do? Next day, he acted completely normal.
Baffled, I didn’t tell anyone, but from then on he’d regularly sneak into my room, forcing me to touch him too.
I felt disgusted.
‘I want to take your virginity,’ he whispered one night when I was 13.
‘I don’t want to, it’ll hurt,’ I pleaded.
But he kept pressuring me. Meanwhile, in the daytime, he acted like the perfect dad.
Doling out extra pocket money and fancy gifts.
‘You’re so lucky,’ my school friends said when I turned up with the latest bag.
If only they knew, I thought, fighting tears.
One night, when I was 14, Dad told me to meet him in our conservatory, where he’d pulled out the sofa bed.
‘Be quiet or Mum will hear,’ he whispered.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for it to be over as he assaulted me.
Months later, I met Ben, then 14.
He was sweet and funny and, eventually, I lost my virginity to him.
What would he think if he knew the truth? I thought. Later that year, Dad raped me for the first time, in the conservatory.
From then on, every Thursday at 1am, I had to go to the conservatory.
Sometimes, he’d hear a creak upstairs and freeze, waiting for Mum to come down and catch him. But she never did.
It went on for years.
My embarrassment and disgust was overwhelming.
Afterwards, I’d sometimes rush to the loo to throw up.
I felt scared that no on
