True-Life
We had to open up before we could get justice
Helen, 43, Cambridgeshire
Silently creeping onto the landing, me and my little sister peeped through the banisters.
From the top of the stairs, we could see a tall man hugging our mum.
‘Who’s that?’ Angela, then 8, asked.
‘Must be Mum’s new boyfriend,’ I whispered.
Our dad wasn’t around but Mum did her best with Angela and me, then 10.
Me and my sis were close, loved dressing the same.
I liked life with just us girls but now I wondered if that would change.
Soon after, the man moved in with us.
Glen was 18, a decade younger than Mum and he took an instant dislike to me and Angela.
Followed us around, barking orders.
‘I want your room spotless,’ he’d shout.
Every day, we’d clean our shared 6 room, before Glen then inspected it.
‘This isn’t done,’ he shouted one day, pointing at clothes in the corner.
He flipped our beds upside down as we cowered terrified.
‘Do it again,’ he said, slamming the door shut.
Wiping away tears, we picked up the pieces.
Things only got worse.
Every day, Glen made me do the washing and make dinner while Angela vacuumed and cleaned.
Mum wasn’t around much, and we were too scared to complain. We lived in fear. ‘Who took a bite from my doughnut?’ Glen hissed at us one afternoon.
He forced us to take bites of another doughnut, matched the teeth marks. Angela’s.
‘Get against the wall and bend your knees,’ Glen ordered.
As we did as we were told, he forced our arms out, put heavy books on them.
‘Hold it,’ he shouted. My thighs burned, shaking violently. Agony. Finally, he let us drop to the floor.
‘It’s torture,’ I whispered to Angela in bed that night. We didn’t think things could get any worse.
But later that year, Glen called me into his and Mum’s bedroom.
‘I need to check you’re growing up,’ he said, putting his hand down my top.
We were too scared to complain. We lived in fear
Then he took my hand, placed it on his crotch.
As he fondled me all over, I didn’t understand what was happening but it felt wrong.
‘You’re not to tell your mum,’ he said afterwards. ‘I could get in trouble.’ Scared, I nodded and left.
Ashamed and confused, I didn’t even tell Angela. In 1993, Mum told us she was marrying Glen. I felt sick.
Angela and I pretended we were happy.
But the night before the wedding, a few months later, I was so scared I wet the bed.
Next day, I smiled for the camera in my pink, frilly bride
