In a lot of ways I appeared to have one of the best childhoods you can imagine. My parents it is true were split up but I was brought up in a beautiful part of England and had the most wonderful mother anyone could hope for. My family at the time I am writing about was not the problem.

The problem was my head teacher.

The first time it happened it was almost gentle. I was frightend but he did not hurt me, I knew it was wrong but he was in such a strong postition of power I could not bring myself to confront him. He was the class teacher as well. I had a learning difficulty so it was easy for him to take me out of class for some reason or other.

Some times he was affectionate, but usually he presented it as a punishment. He would push his fingers inside me, kiss me, make me put his penis in my mouth. He would often lock me naked in the cupboard. Even to this day there is a very frightend eight year old girl inside me who has just had a man run his hands all over her body, both inside and out, been forced to give him pleasure, then told she has to be punished for not doing it properly. If I did anything wrong he would get rough with me, pushing three or even four fingers inside my vagina, pulling my hair, biting me, forcing me to touch him. He used to make me repeat things like "I deserve the pain". He would tell me I was ugly, stupid, thick, unpleasant and that it was my fault my parents had split up. The cupboard was cold and pitch black and he would just push me in there totally naked locking the door. Once I tried screaming and he pulled me out by the hair and hurt me in a way I can not describe even now, even after all this time.

It all affected me in so many ways. I didn't want to tell my mum. She had enough problems trying to bring up 3 kids on her own. I tried to tell one of the teachers but I got laughed at and told I must have misunderstood something. I became withdrawn and found it hard to make friends. I was already different because of the learning difficulty so I was an obvious target to be bullied. So I just kept it all in for years.

Now it comes out through the nightmares, the thousand cinema screens in my head all playing the same scenes over and over again, the knife when I cut myself, the flashbacks and the blackouts and the tears as I sit and type now. The pain does not just go away with the abuse. I suppose I need help but my occassional moves into the realms of the professional have just proved to me that I was not ready to open up quite yet. I am so scared of living through all the pain again, even though ironically that is what I do every day and every night of my life.

I am a survivor though. Now I have a good job, a boyfriend I love to bits and who knows all about this, a degree, friends... a whole new future to look forward to. Even though there were times everything seemed to be against me, I never wanted to let him win. I never wanted to let the way I lived my life prove his prophacy I was worthless, stupid or thick. In that small way I have won the battle... sadly though I have yet to win the war.. but I will because however long it takes me I NEED one day to be able to look back and say I WON. Telling this story now is just another strike in the war. I hope that it helps someone somewhere have the courage to go on winning, even if it is one little battle at a time.

All of this happened 14 or 15 years ago. If there is anybody reading this who is in a similar situation please get help now. If you don't know how or you're too scared to turn to anyone else please contact me by email. Don't let them get away with it like I did - keep strong. Remember YOU ARE WORTH MORE THAN THEY ARE.