Chapter 5

“Sit down kids, we have some news for you,” daddy said.

Mum and dad stood together in the living room; they were very happy about something. We were all jumping around when mum said, “We have a new baby on the way.” She sounded like the sweetest person, not the person I knew.

“That will make six of us,” Alex said. We giggled.

“You all have to make a big effort to help mum around the house now,” daddy said.

What? Mum never lifted a finger before she got pregnant, I thought, What makes him think she will now? She threw a glare in my direction. Surely I didn’t say that out loud? I kept my fingers crossed I hadn’t. Then again, the witch could probably read my mind.

The baby was beautiful. I don’t remember ever being allowed to hold her though. Her name was Kassie, and she was the most perfect thing I had ever seen.

Dad was home for awhile when Kassie was born, so of course things seemed really nice, lots of laughter and fun. We went on holiday to Butlins too. It was a great time, even though we had to stay in our chalet room at night while mum and dad went out. We still loved every minute of it, and, for a while, the beatings stopped.

It didn’t take too long to get back to normal. When dad went back to work, the torture got even worse. I was getting beaten most every day for something. Her latest weapon of choice was a belt.

“Don’t draw on the walls,” she shouted as she belted my legs and backside. Dad had lots of belts with different buckles. He liked Cowboy and Western films, so the buckles on his belts were big and hurt a lot more than ordinary buckles. This time I had to choose which belt I wanted. I hadn’t drawn on the walls. Daniel had, but what was the point in arguing? I just assumed the position.

Later that day, I was told that Uncle Joe wanted to see me. My visits there were getting more and more frequent. Most of the time he would take pictures or fiddle with my bits, but I didn’t mind as he was very nice to me. I was getting used to posing for the camera too.

“Your Mum tells me you’ve had the belt today?” he questioned when I arrived at his house. I sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa nursing my raw bottom.

“Yes I have,” I nodded sadly. Uncle Joe liked to see where mum had spanked me. He would take photographs of my bottom and my marked back. He said he wanted to show his friends how cruel she was. He would kiss my bottom better and rub cream on it. I never saw the pot of cream but when I was lying on my tummy he always squirted me with warm cream and rubbed it in to make it better. It did feel quite soothing.

On one of those visits, Uncle Joe showed me pictures of models in a magazine. He told me that those models were famous and that I was just as pretty and could be famous too. As he was helping mum get on TV, he would help me become famous too. Mum had been on the TV a couple of times so I knew he was telling the truth. All I had to do was copy what the ladies in the magazine were doing. He would get a friend around to take pictures, because he would have to help me pose and couldn’t take pictures at the same time.

The visits became daily for a while. Uncle Joe showed me a lot of different magazines with women and men doing all sorts of strange things with the man’s willy. The ladies had hair on their privates in some pictures and not in others. I thought they were probably young like me if they had no hair.

Uncle Joe started showing me photos of other kids and told me those kids were famous. They were doing the same sort of things as the grownups I had been shown. Must be normal for kids to do this stuff, I thought, if mum’s okay with it.

Mum was happy a bit more often as Joe was giving her money to help out with the bills. We were starting to get more toys, but mostly mum would get lots of new clothes and make-up. She said she had to look her best for TV.

I overheard her on the telephone one evening saying, “Are you kidding? Abbie’s worth more than that. If you don’t give me more money, I’ll send one of the other girls.” I felt so special, but I didn’t go around to see Uncle Joe for a while. Mum said she was waiting for the right time. A few weeks later I heard her talking downstairs, saying how it was almost the amount she wanted and to keep raising the figure. I didn’t know at the time, she had them bidding on me.

* * *

“What are you doing? For god’s sake. All I asked you to do is wash the dishes, and you can’t even do that without breaking something. You really are a clumsy little slut aren’t you?” The words flew into my ears and I cringed as I saw her coming down the hallway. This woman, my new mother and the cause of my pain, stood over me as I felt an open hand connect with the back of my head. I stumbled forward from the force behind the blow.
She went on, “You think you’re clever! You’re not, you little shit. All you are is a worthless low-life. You should die and give someone else a chance at life. Why don’t you just do that? Or should I do it for you?” She rambled on, poison spewing from her lips. Once again the hand flew against me, but this time it was a hammer blow with fist clenched and I fell. She laughed at my feeble attempts to look strong and get away, my pathetic attempts to show her she couldn’t hurt me. But inside I knew better, she hurt me, she hurt me really bad all the time. When she paused for a moment I crawled onto my knees then stood up and ran up to my room. It was my only safe place, unless she followed. Sometimes she did and sometimes she didn’t.

“That’s it! Run away you little weakling. I’m going to kill you one day. I hope you’re ready for that,” she bellowed. Her threats chased me up the stairs, and I flew into my room and slammed the door.

I screamed out, “No!” I leaned with my back against the door thinking I was strong enough to stop her coming in if she tried.

I cried and tears began to flow down my face. I rubbed my face and eyes with clenched fists so hard to stop the tears. I am not going to cry. She can’t make me cry anymore. I won’t let her.

Once again, she’d succeeded in killing my spirit. I wanted to be strong, but I felt weak inside and out. All she had ever done was hurt me, and I could do nothing about it.

Alex opened the door and saw me huddled in the corner behind my bed. He knew only too well what went on when daddy was out. He came and sat with me but said nothing. Reassurance was pointless. If he said it would be okay, he would be lying, because we both knew it wouldn’t be okay, ever. We sometimes sat together and waited in terror, listening to her beat one of the other kids and waiting for her next bout of anger and hatred aimed at us.
Several hours later I heard the door open, not my bedroom door but the front door, and I knew instantly that my dad was back. I vaulted up and ran down the stairs to greet him. He looked at me with a gleaming smile. I grabbed him and hugged him as hard as I could, never wanting to let go. It was the only time I ever felt safe, when I was in his arms.

“Oh hello, you’re home. How was work?” Mum said. When she saw him hugging me, she walked our way.

“Fine, thanks. Same old, same old. How was your day?” She ignored the question and walked off. Daddy carried me into the lounge. I sat, cradled in his arms, happy again, but just for the weekend.

On Monday morning mum told me I would have the week off school. I had been good all week and so, as a reward, I would be going to stay with a friend for a while. All the other kids were jealous. I remember Alex crying upstairs saying if dad knew, he’d freak. Knew what? I asked myself. I couldn’t understand why dad would be so upset that I had time off school. Mum gave Alex a good hiding when she heard that and told him, “It’s a secret holiday, and if your father finds out, I’ll give you such a lashing you won’t sit down for a month.”

Mum packed me a night bag and said goodbye. When the doorbell rang, she gave me a lecture, telling me not to let her down. Uncle Joe walked in with a big grin. All the kids ran to the door squealing with delight, and as usual he had a pocket full of boiled sweets.

I had no idea it was Uncle Joe I was going with, but when I did realise it, I was happy to get out of there. It was Monday and I hadn’t had a beating all day. I looked forward to playing in Uncle Joe’s garden. I jumped in his car eagerly waving goodbye and pleased as punch that I got to have a week off school. I hated school.

When we arrived at his house, he had a friend waiting. He seemed very nice. I knew I had seen him before with mum but not for a long time, and I couldn’t remember where.

“Don’t worry about him,” Uncle Joe said. “He’s just taking pictures.”

I didn’t even have time to unpack. Uncle Joe threw my bag into the hallway and pulled me by the hand into the living room. It looked different this time; there was a big, white fluffy carpet and a sheet had been hung covering the wall and the pictures. The sofa had a dark, royal-blue throw over it with white cushions. Wow, it looks nice, I thought. He showed me the magazine again and told me to undress and copy the ladies in certain pictures. I felt shy with the man there and Uncle Joe started getting cross.

“Do it properly, how I’ve taught you, or I will telephone your mother to get round here and sort you out.”

“But. . .” It was all I could think to say. I didn’t want to upset Uncle Joe. He was always so nice to me.

He went on, “I’ve spent a long time training you now, don’t show me up.” He warned me with a “you dare” look. Even though I was sure what I was doing wasn’t right, and I hated it, I couldn’t stop or mum would beat me even more. Uncle Joe had handed mum an envelope when he arrived at our house, and she was so happy. So I tried to copy the girls in the magazine. I couldn’t risk upsetting mum.

I got undressed and sat on the arm of the sofa, cuddling myself. I was cold, exposed, and scared, but what could I do? Uncle Joe came straight over to me and yanked me to my feet. I was shocked. He was never rough with me before. I took a sharp intake of breath and felt the fear rising up in me, my heart beating hard and my legs felt a bit like jelly. Something was different, I sensed it. He had never handled me like that before and it scared me. He pushed me to the floor telling me to lie down. I could feel myself shaking and shivering. It was cold in the house. My stomach was churning, hurting too and I felt so sick. I started to whimper and I could feel a tear run down the side of my face to my ear.

“Open your legs,” Uncle Joe said. He didn’t wait for me to comply but slapped my legs so hard the stinging made me cry out with pain. He placed his large hand over my mouth and asked if I wanted more. I shook my head no, pleading with eyes wide, tears running freely now.

He took his hand away from my face and eased it slowly down my chest to my tummy he told me, “You only have to do what’s in the pictures.” His voice calmed, “It’s not a big deal.” He opened my legs, pulling them wide apart, “Bend your knees and put your feet on the floor,” he growled, his eyes piercing me with a stare while exposing my private bits. He put his fingers on my privates spreading them apart, moving aside so the camera got a good shot. Investigating my bits and pulling them around while his friend took pictures. I was so embarrassed, I looked away. He put one finger into me gently moving it in and out a little bit at a time. “Your dry,” he said and coughed up some phlegm in his throat and spat at my bits, rubbing harder and faster.

“It burns,” I cried. He slapped my legs again, this time with the belt he had taken off and laid beside me.

“Do you want more?” he threatened. My sobs were ignored as Uncle Joe started kissing my private bits. His tongue was warm as he licked me everywhere. His fingers twisted my boobies. He hurt me and it felt like he would pull them off as he bit my nipples.

The man who was taking pictures was getting cross with Uncle Joe, shouting at him, “I have driven hours and paid a fortune to see this shit. So, get on with it and shut her up too.”

Uncle Joe unzipped his trousers and, for the first time, took his willy out of his pants and held it to my face.

“Suck it,” he said.

“Like a straw?” I asked. He nodded grabbing my hair and twisting it tight between his fingers. “Ouch that hurts!” I cried.

“Lick it,” he ordered, pulling my head right up to him. I could hear his breathing getting fast. He seemed in a rush. His willy looked huge. I had never seen a real, full grown one, only the ones in the magazines. I had seen Alex and Daniel when they had a bath, but they didn’t look like this, all hairy and purple. It was throbbing against my lips.

I closed my eyes and started to cry when he backed off and smacked me hard across the face. “Now, pull yourself together!” he shouted. “I have full permission from your mum to beat the hell out of you if needed.”

I believed him. I took it in my hands and sucked and licked his willy and played with it for what seemed like ages. The man took lots of pictures. Then Uncle Joe rubbed my private parts with his willy until the sticky goo came out, all over me. When he rubbed it on my tummy, I finally realised where the warm cream had come from.

“You’re a good girl,” he said putting his pants back in place. Your mummy will be very pleased this time.”

I felt all icky but I didn’t dare ask for a towel.

Uncle Joe looked at the man and said, “That’s your lot. Anymore costs a damn sight more.” The man handed Uncle Joe a pile of money and walked out the door.

How could he let Uncle Joe do this to me? I thought. Couldn’t he see me crying? He never said a word, just took lots of photos and left. Maybe he’ll show someone else what Uncle Joe did.

Uncle Joe led me by the hand to a bedroom and told me to rest there. I lay on the fresh smelling bed whimpering and wondering what was going to happen. Uncle Joe’s telephone kept ringing and I could hear him talking.

“The merchandise is here, prepared and ready,” he said several times on different phone calls. I could smell pipe tobacco and it took me back to when my real mummy was alive. For a while I forgot where I was.

I must have drifted into a sleep because when I woke up, it was dark and I could hear voices downstairs. It took a few seconds to register where I was. A car engine started outside bringing me back to reality, and the voices moved from outside to inside the hall downstairs. After a few minutes I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Uncle Joe opened the door. “Wakey, wakey sleepy head. You’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” I repeated, confused and dazed from sleep and rubbing my eyes.

“Oh yes, honey, you’ve got to make Uncle Joe some of his money back.”

I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. How do I owe him money? He led me downstairs with a reassuring arm around my waist.

“Swallow this,” he gave me a tablet and a glass of water. “It will make you feel nice.”

“No thank you,” I said. “I hate tablets.”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling,” he demanded. “Now swallow the bloody thing.”

He led me to the waiting car. “It tastes disgusting,” I grimaced.

“Hop in sugar,” he opened the door. “You’ll be back in the morning.”

I hesitated and stepped back, at which point he picked me up by the tops of my arms and threw me onto the back seat. He did it so easily, like you would pick up a doll. I must have been so light to him.

“Any nonsense out here my girl and I will knock your block off,” he said.

I didn’t know where to look or what to do. The car engine revved quietly then purred while Uncle Joe told the driver, “You have until six in the morning to have her back as there are other bookings.”

I couldn’t even see the driver; it was pitch black. Where am I going? I asked myself. And with whom? As the car pulled out of the drive I wondered if I was going home, or rather, hoped I was. But then I remembered mum saying I was away for a week.

The car seemed to travel for ages, I remember starting to feel all silly, my body felt tingly and my head felt like it was going round and round like it was going to fall off. I felt sick for a while but then the sickness passed and I felt weird. I had never felt like this before. I couldn’t see straight and my fingers and toes were tingly too. My eyelids were getting heavy but I was too afraid to sleep.

“Where are we going?” I asked the driver. No reply. He didn’t say a word the whole time until we got to where we were going. When we arrived the man got out and opened my door and said, “Follow me.” There were a few cars where we had parked, all different types. I saw a big white van with an angel and leaves on the side. I remembered the angel because daddy always said I was his angel.

I could tell there were no houses around because all I could see were the shadows of trees, no lights anywhere. We walked and walked through the darkness. The man led me through the night for about 30 minutes to what looked like a barn. I thought we had arrived, but we walked by the barn and carried on walking. I couldn’t see very well but there was no one or nothing around. My skin was crawling with nerves, I was cold and shaking and felt sick. I don’t know why. Maybe shock from earlier that evening or that silly pill Uncle Joe gave me. We walked a while longer. I could feel long grass scratching my legs and rocks under my feet making it difficult to walk straight without my ankles giving way. I nearly fell over a few times.

The man pushed me on, “Quicker,” he said each time I dawdled, shoving me in the back when I started to slow. It was dark and scary like a bad dream. I felt strange, my stomach was in knots with pains shooting in all directions and I was very dizzy. I couldn’t walk quickly because the ground was spinning and moving up to meet me. Suddenly, everything went black.