I am trying to tidy up the memories of the time I was a 15-year-old runaway in Kings Cross and I was gang-raped there but it just gets messier and messier! Every time I think I have remembered all that happened more memories surface. My mind keeps returning to 1972 and the events of that time no matter how hard I try to let it go.
My dreams continue to be distressing but I am having trouble sleeping anyway so that isn’t too problematic. I comfort myself with the belief that the dreams are just processing the newly remembered stuff ready to file it away for good. Every now and then I get sharp head pains as if memories are physically forcing their way past some kind of barrier in my head.
The latest trauma is what happened with Ross. After I found out my boyfriend had set me up to be gang-raped I broke off with him and ran to my friend Ross. I told him about the rape and he told the manager of the hotel we were living in. The two of them were angry and they intercepted my boyfriend when he tried to follow me into the hotel.
I remember them arguing and I think they informed him at that time I was not a prostitute, I had no idea I was living in a brothel and I was only 15-years-old. They sent him away but he made threats to Ross and the hotel manager that they had not heard the last of it.
Now I remember what happened next.
I was sitting in the hotel lounge watching television with Ross when the boyfriend burst in and grabbed my arm. He said he was taking me to the club because they needed to talk to me and, when Ross went to get up, he pointed at him and ordered him to mind his own business.
I remember my dismay when Ross sat back into his chair and fixed his eyes on the television.
I struggled to get away from my boyfriends grip but he started dragging me from the room and Ross acted as if neither of us was there. That was when I panicked. I firmly believed my boyfriend had come to take me back to the club for another gang-rape and it began to look as if Ross was going to let him do it.
I started to fight tooth and nail getting more and more terrified the closer my boyfriend got me to the door. I began screaming and clawing at my boyfriend and he lost his grip on me a few times. Each time he did I tried to run to Ross but Ross would not take his eyes off the television screen. He would not look at me or answer me when I screamed his name and begged him to help me and I grew more and more frantic.
The hotel manager appeared and I turned to him for help but my boyfriend ordered him to mind his own business too and he turned and walked away. I could not believe what was happening to me. How could these people, my friends, betray me like this?
I dropped to the floor and escaped my boyfriends grip once again and I crawled across the floor to Ross and latched on to his legs. He ignored me and my boyfriend began prying my hands loose while Ross continued to focus on the television screen. I grabbed Ross by one hand and his hand was limp and unresponsive but I clung to it and begged him to help me.
“He’s going to take me back there, Ross, he’s going to let them all rape me again, Ross help me, don’t let him do this to me, please, you can’t let them do that to me again!” I sobbed and clung to him as if my life depended on it which, in my mind, it did.
Ross finally looked away from the television screen but he did not look at me. He looked at my boyfriend. My boyfriend told me nobody was going to do anything to me they just wanted to talk to me but I did not listen. I remained 100 percent focussed on Ross.
“He’s lying Ross,” I screamed, “he’s a liar, you know he’s a liar, they are all liars. He lied to get me there last time and he’s lying again now. Don’t listen to him Ross please, he’s going to rape me, they all are! You have to help me you just have to – please Ross – please.” I wailed.
Ross continued to ignore me. He just kept looking at my boyfriend as if waiting for him to give him permission to notice me. My boyfriend let go of me and stepped back. That got my attention and I looked up at him. He was looking at Ross and he nodded to him. As soon as he nodded Ross tightened his limp hand around mine and pulled me into his arms where I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed in relief at having been rescued from another gang-rape.
After my boyfriend left I asked Ross why he had ignored me. He said it was true what my boyfriend said – it was not his business. I said surely it was if we were friends and he said no – he would only have a right to interfere if I were his relative or girlfriend.
That’s how Ross became my new boyfriend.
Right now I feel as if I am 15 again. I am confused. I don’t know what to think or what to believe. Who were the good guys? Were there any good guys? Who were the bad guys and just how bad were they? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fold up neat and tidy with a suitable lesson to take away from it.
I’m standing in my psychic underwear shivering with the cold and unable to find something to cover me or warm me. I am alone and nothing is what it appears to be. Behind every door is a trap. Behind every smile is betrayal. There are no helping hands – only hurting ones.
I locked it all away 35 years ago. I didn’t let myself go through this then. It’s time to go through it now and process it – work through it – come to terms with it and move on.
It’s just that I feel as if I am a little girl again. I’m only 15 and I desperately want my mother or father or someone to hold me and tell me I am not really alone and everything will be all right.
But there is no mother, no father, nobody. There never has been.
No, I am mistaken, here he comes and I will be all right. I really will. There are no arms quite so warm and safe as the arms of God and I think I can sleep now.