IT IS WHAT IT IS 'surviving domestic  violence' by KikiDee 'KiDe' Watson

Page 86-87

"Hey, I'm talking to you bitch! Don't ignore me!". He continued belittling me and calling me all sorts of names. He was cursing and pointing right into my face and sometimes making contact.

"You are a whore! You think you're all that, but you are nothing but a sagging hag. You are lucky you have me otherwise who's gonna want a person like you; fat, ugly, and old?"

The filthy verbosity went on for hours, and if I did not answer a question, he would shake me and at times order me to face him. He was still drinking his cider. He said some very hurtful words. When I turned away from him, I wept. He was breaking my heart. This as a side of him that was starting to emerge slowly but surely. My handsome, charming prince had vanished and left me with the monster that lay beside me in my bed. He wore himself out by abusing me and fell asleep. I quickly sneaked out of the bedroom and went to Angel's bed and cried myself to sleep.

I was awoken by a loud thud as my body hit the floor. In confusion and darkness, I saw Nik standing over me and grabbing me from the floor.

"This is not your bedroom!", he said, dragging me out of Angel's room and into my bedroom. He proceeded to shove me onto the bed and lay next to me and fell asleep, holding me in his arms. My confusion deepened and my pain continued. I did not understand how he could claim to love me and yet he was hurting me. How could he switch from being nice, sweet, and gentle to being a total barbarian? I heard him snore, but I dared not move. It was at that point I realised that I was afraid of him.

 

AVAILABLE AT AMAZON KINDLE STORE……….

 

 

 

 

 

IT IS WHAT IT IS 'surviving domestic violence'

CHAPTER 5

Pages 92 -95

 

While he was injured, his crutches became a common weapon against me. Two weeks after the Charlie incident - after several calls and several threats on his part to come over - I finally gave in and went to visit him at the hostel in Birmingham. I asked Nina to look after the girls because I was not sure how things would turn out with Nik. All was well; I met him at the hostel, and we went to buy a bottle of whisky and coke and sat in the park drinking and talking. It was fine at first until Charlie’s name popped up again and others that I did not know of. We argued so I stood up to walk away and he followed me. He followed me all the way to the bus stop and hopped on the same bus, where we kept arguing, causing a right scene.

 

I got off the bus and so did he. He was still in pursuit. By this time, I was no longer responding to him, but that did not keep him quiet. Sometimes he would use the end of his crutch to poke me to get my attention. I managed to evade him when he stopped briefly to speak to some guy. Amongst the crowd, I could see him, in a frenzy, looking for me. I kept my eyes on him but remained out of his sight.  I had full view of the train station and the bus station but was afraid to move in case he spotted me. After a while, I could no longer see him so he could have been anywhere. I had been there for over an hour, so I convinced myself that by then, he must have got tired and returned to the hostel. I emerged slowly from my hiding place and began to walk carefully across the street to the train station, all the while looking around to see if he was still about.

 

The coast seemed to be clear, so I took a deep sigh and relaxed my shoulders, which were tense with fear. I reached into my handbag and took out a box of cigarettes. I looked for my lighter but could not find it. It was then that I noticed the gentleman standing next to me was smoking, so I politely asked for a lighter and he was kind enough to offer it. He was also waiting for a train to Leicester, so we engaged in casual chit-chat, and soon my troubles were forgotten. I was going home to my children whom I had been talking about to him when I felt a hard impact on my back followed by an excruciating pain that travelled down my spine.

 

“This is why you were in a hurry to get away from me!”

Everything happened so fast; the gentleman I was speaking to took off immediately after I was struck with a crutch on my back. I also, without much thought, ran towards the station entrance and down the stairs to my platform. I was overcome with astonishment. I could not comprehend what was going on. I was in a stupor and could not hold back the tears. I did not understand why Nik was behaving that way towards me and yet each day he declared his love for me. He was so brazen as to attack me in a public place in broad daylight.

 

I drank whisky the whole journey from Birmingham to Leicester. It was a weekend so I knew Nina would stay over and help look after the children. I was in despair. I needed help. I needed to get away, but I seemed to be tangled in a web of poisonous love. It tasted deceitfully sweet, but it was extremely lethal. My heart was aching and so were my bones and flesh from the times I had been struck hard with a crutch. When I went to use the train toilets, I looked in the mirror and saw the visible bump on my temple which I had managed to hide so well from people by combing my hair to the front. Another reminder of the cruel reality I was living under.

 

Nina was my best friend to whom I told everything, but I did not tell her about this incident and others that came after that. If she were not there to witness it, I did not tell her. I was embarrassed and too ashamed. How had I allowed myself to be so weak and so manipulated? I had never ever been frightened of a human being the way I feared Nik. He had managed to mould me into his property that he could use and abuse. He made and changed rules as we went along. So just before I left the train, I fixed my hair and face.  When I got home, I pretended that I had had an amazing time and that all was well. But deep down, I was dying.

 

 

Cambs Times > News

Nearly five years jail for woman drink driver whose passenger died after car careered off A47 and he was speared by fence post.

Published: 5:25 PM January 7, 2015

 

Updated: 9:36 PM October 31, 2020

 

The BMW which crashed into fence along the A47 at Peterborough.

A drink driver whose car left the A47 and fatally injured her passenger – who was speared by a post after hitting a fence - was jailed for four years and eight months.

Nicholette Wallace, 40, of New Parks Boulevard, Leicester, appeared at Peterborough Crown Court on Tuesday after admitting causing death by driving without due care in an earlier hearing.

On February 16 last year, the BMW 318 Wallace was driving left the road on the A47 at Thornhaugh, close to its junction with Old Oundle Road. The front seat passenger, Nicholas Martins, 36, of New Parks Boulevard, Leicester, suffered fatal injuries.

The other occupants, two girls aged 11 and seven, suffered slight injuries and were taken to Peterborough City Hospital.

Wallace was found to be over the legal limit of alcohol at the time of the collision and was arrested at the scene.In addition to 56 months imprisonment, Judge Murray sentenced Wallace to a five year disqualification order from driving and to sit and extended retest.

PC John Thomas said: “Driving while under the influence of alcohol is just unacceptable. It can cause serious injury and, like in this case, death.

“No-one should get in a car with a driver who they know has been drinking alcohol, it simply is not worth the risk.”

Anyone who suspects someone of drink driving should contact police on 101 or the confidential drink drive hotline on 0800 032 0845 to make a report.

 

 

 

 

 IT IS WHAT IT IS...'Childhood Trauma'

(a book title in the sequence of a series...Coming soon!)

 

CHAPTER One

I was born in Africa in the year of 1974 on the 29th day of July, the first of four children. I was on my own for seven years until the next child came along in June of 1981, a boy, my brother Scott. For those first seven years of my life I lived with my mother and father, but it was mostly my mother and me. My father was a train driver who worked out of town and would go away for months at a time.

I can tell you that my childhood was not as happy as I might have wanted it to be. Sometimes I wish I could forget it, but I have carried the painful memories most of my life. The memories haunted me all the way to adulthood, they became my demons that followed me everywhere I went, destroying my life and all my relationships. For years my demons controlled me, infiltrated, and infested my brain. Eating me away and leaving me vulnerable and infected.

 When I was five years old, I went through a childhood experience which left me internally frozen and in a state of dismay. I was abducted from a gathering by a man who just wanted to satisfy his sexual pleasures. To this day, flashes of the incident still haunt me. When I remember what happened, I feel cheap, angry, and disgusted.  The worst part is that I can remember the incident so well, but I do not have a face to this man. No matter how much I try. I remember vaguely his physique but not his face. I hear the tone and sound of his voice clearly, but I cannot visualise his face. His face was lost in my memory and was never able to be retrieved.

My mother and I had gone to a community gathering that evening, almost the whole neighbourhood attended the charity event, so it was quite a busy night. My father was out of town with work as usual. I had seen the man talking to my mother earlier and she had asked him to look after me since she was busy ushering at the event. He lifted me up and held me in his arms. Moments later I felt pain down below as his long fingernails were fondling my vagina. I cried out with pain and he stopped and told me to keep shush. He panicked thinking someone might notice what was going on, so he sat me on his shoulders and began walking out with me. Unfortunately, there were a lot of people around and a lot of activities going on, no one saw him walk out with me.

He began walking with me in the darkness of the night. I kept crying and begged him to take me back to my mother and each time he would intimidate me. At one point he put me down and asked me to take my pants off and lie down on the grass. I started crying out loud and he quickly covered my mouth with his hand. Everywhere was deserted, almost all the town people had gone to this major event that was taking place at the community hall. He picked me up again and started walking away with me further into the deserted darkness, warning me not to make a sound.

We soon came to a house where we entered one small room with nothing much in it except a bed, a gasoline stove and a few bits and bobs. The ambience of the room was chilling, there was not much lighting, semi dark and terror had overtaken me. He put me down and locked the door behind him, I was petrified. I did not stop crying I just wanted to go back to my mother. He ordered me to take my pants off and lie on the bed. The rest of the memory is hazy, but I remember hearing voices from the next room.

“I can hear a child crying from next door.” I heard a female voice saying. Moments later I heard the same voice from next door again, “I swear that I can hear a child crying next door. Can anyone else not hear it?”

“I heard what sounded like a child crying but it can’t be because there are no children next door” a male voice responded.

I remember the man looking at me straight in my eyes with his hand firm on my mouth giving me a sign not to make a sound, he felt heavy on top of me and he was hurting me with his long fingernails as he tried to penetrate me.

After what seemed like ages, I heard the man’s voice again, “You were right I heard a child’s cry and it’s definitely coming from the room next door.”

“Do you think we should go and check it out just in case?”  the woman asked. My kidnapper panicked and the next thing I remembered was that we were back in the quiet town and its darkness. I was really scared; I did not know what was going to happen to me. I kept praying to God to send someone to rescue me. Once again, he ordered me to take my pants off and lie on the ground. My next memory is meeting up with a mob of people looking for me. They had noticed I was missing and had gathered to do a neighbourhood search. I remember being at the police station with my mother and my father’s sister, Aunt Marie. That is as far as this traumatic memory goes and remembers, my brain has managed to block big chunks of it, perhaps to protect me. But I have always been angry with myself for not remembering his face, not even vaguely, no matter how much I tried.

After that horrific incident I was never the same again. I was always afraid and always locked myself in my room. I isolated myself whenever I could, I was mentally scarred badly. I resented everything about me and around me. If I could get away with skipping school, I would. I could not cope being around other pupils. The whole neighbourhood knew what had happened that night, so I was too ashamed to be seen. The distance in the relationship between my mother and I grew, I stopped communicating much, I was filled with anger inside and it was not a good feeling to be carrying around at that young age. I slowly drifted away from reality into my own little world. I hated myself and often wished I were dead because the world was too cruel and evil.

I ached and I wanted someone to take the pain away and tell me that all was going to be alright. I only got to see my father a few months a year, him and I got on very well. The days he was around were some of my best days at home. He paid more attention to me and laughed and joked with me something my mother hardly did. It was fun when my father was home, even the tension between my mother and I seemed to mellow. It was good to have him around but as soon as he left, things went back to “normal”.

My mother was a strict disciplinarian; she punished me severely for any mistake no matter how trivial. She would find any excuse to lash me with a leather belt or branches from a peach tree which was in the back of our garden. I received beatings almost daily. When the beatings started even the neighbours would come to intervene and make her stop, they were so severe. Of course, the other children thought it was funny and used to tease me about it, mock me and laugh at me. The other kids would imitate my crying noises, my pleas to my mother to stop and they would make sounds of the belt hitting my flesh.

It went on in the playgrounds at school and whenever another kid thought they could get one over me, they would use my mother, even imitating her voice to intimidate and humiliate me. It was hostile, degrading, and torturous. I would often run back to the house, into my bedroom and wept. I never cried in front of them. I never wanted anyone to see my tears, so I used anger to block the pain. At the age of six I was still wetting the bed, which made my life even more catastrophic. Each time I wet the bed I would not only get a lashing, as a way of humiliating me, my mother would also make me hang my wet linens on the drying line outside. The neighbourhood kids would make mincemeat out of me; I always wished for the earth to swallow me or for death to come and take me.

If only these children knew how much they were hurting me inside, if only my mother knew what was going on around me and inside me. I was suffocating and I was dying. I wanted to disappear for good or make everyone else around me disappear; often wishing there was a world where I could exist by myself on a deserted island somewhere.

 After the molestation incident my brain became paralysed, I did not talk to anyone about it, especially not my mother. I bottled my thoughts and feelings. The hostility between my mother and I worsened, the beatings became more frequent, each time harder than before and the vituperations got harsher. I became very afraid of her. I suffered from somnambulism; she had to lock all the main doors at night and hide the keys because often I would attempt to open the front door and walk out. I also experienced a lot of nightmares. Life was unbearable and I had no-one to turn to.

Bed wetting became an everyday thing followed by the disgrace of hanging my linen in public and the physical pain of the thrashings. I could not stop my bladder, I never felt it when it happened, it frustrated me too because I wanted it to stop but my bladder seemed to get weaker and weaker. I remember an incident at school one day in my sixth grade during a maths lesson when I asked the teacher to be excused to go the bathroom. She would not let me go and ordered me to sit back down, I was desperate. She told me I could only go after class or when I finished my exercise. I did as I was told and went back to sit at my desk.

I tried to carry on with my work, but I could not hold the pencil, I felt the pressure on my bladder. I could not concentrate on my work; I was sweating, and I shook my legs vigorously trying to squeeze it back in. I was too scared to ask the teacher again but because my bladder felt as if it was about to explode, I stood up again and walked to the teacher’s desk. Once again, she denied me permission to go so I went back to my seat, struggling to walk. Unfortunately, when I returned to my seat, I was unable to endure the unpleasant sensation any longer, it had become physically painful.

Moments after shaking violently, I felt a warm liquid running down my legs into my shoes and onto the floor, making a puddle below me. I just could not hold it anymore; I felt such a huge relief. When the rest of the class noticed what was happening, they exploded into laughter. They laughed and mocked me and at the same time I was praying for the earth to make me vanish. I was wet and disgraced. I was the main subject of talk at break time, lunch time and the days that followed, it hurt deeply.

I felt so sad, lost and alone. Life at home and school was harrowing. I did not want to be in either places I just wanted to stop existing. I figured there was nothing I could do about not being at home, where else would I go? But there was something I could do about not being at school, so I started skipping school. I would leave home each morning with a packed lunch and my school bag as if I were going to school and then stop at the community playground until it was home time.

The fresh air was pleasant and peaceful, all the other children were in school and parents were running errands or working so nobody bothered or noticed me. I had the whole park to myself, just me in my own little world at least for a few hours. Something amazing happened to me; I found tranquillity and inner peace that I so desperately sought. I felt the cool breeze as the fresh air brushed against my skin. I looked around me and saw no-one in sight except the occasional passer-by. I felt warm inside, I was away from my tormenters and everyone else that was causing me pain. It was a beautiful feeling, a feeling I wanted to experience every day and so I did.

I spend the days making sandcastles, cakes and drawing my imaginary friends, creating my own perfect world. I even sneaked my doll Bernadette in my backpack each morning, so I was not completely alone. I would go on the swings, slides and push myself and Bernie on the merry go round. I had the time of my life, it was perfect. It was always upsetting of course when it was time to go home, I felt the sadness fill me up and bring me back to reality. But that did not matter much, I had found a place where I could be happy, and I was determined to maintain it. My truancy continued for almost two weeks until I was found out.

I arrived at home one day to find my mother waiting for me in the living room. I could tell from her disposition that something was seriously not right. On the coffee table I noticed an opened letter and five long fresh sticks from our dear peach tree. Immediately I knew that my game was up, and I knew what was coming. She confronted me with the letter from the head teacher which stated that I had been out of school for nearly two weeks and wanted to know the reason for this. I had no reason except to say to myself that I had found a place of placidity.

My mother then ordered me to take my uniform off and she began to whoop me with the sticks on my bare flesh. When one broke she picked another one, striking as hard as she could, her face filled with rage. The pain was piercing, I screamed and shouted begging her for pardon but she would not stop. I was saved by the woman next door who heard my screams and came in through the back door which was ajar, and she interceded. My body was bruised and bumpy and the pain was excruciating, I cried myself to sleep.

Monday morning my mother walked me to school herself and straight into the head teacher’s office. I had not been to school for thirteen days so the moment I entered the gates I was filled with so much sadness and hopelessness. Mr Gonzales was a tough and brutal man who was feared by all pupils, his punishments were strident and his beatings merciless. Mr Gonzales did not take truancy lightly, so I knew I was in more trouble. After my mother apologised and explained to him that she had no knowledge of my absence from school, he turned to face me.

“What you have done is unacceptable and I take it seriously, therefore, you shall be punished severely.”

He went to his desk and from one of his drawers he pulled out an electric cord about a metre long and ordered me to stand up. I looked at my mother who looked straight back at me showing no remorse at all. The head teacher walked towards me with the cord in his hand. He stood in front facing me, he then bend me over putting my head between his knees. He took hold of both my hands in his left hand on my back and with the electric cord in his right hand he began to strike.

I felt the burning pain as the cord hit my buttocks, I yelled in agony as each lash made contact. My body already hurt physically from the beatings from my mother a couple of days before. I howled and begged him to stop, I screamed to my mother to make him stop but my cries fell on deaf ears, instead, she sat there and watched as the man savagely struck me repeatedly. I looked at her full of resentment and anger, had she not punished me enough? Actually, she had not because she had been interrupted by the neighbour so now, she had Mr Gonzales to finish her job. I received thirteen lashes, one for each day I skipped school. My buttocks hurt with a burning sensation and I was badly bruised, I could not seat properly for a few days to come.

My mind wondered in all directions, I asked myself a lot of questions and came up with my own conclusions. I acknowledged that I deserved to be punished for skipping school but that was an overkill; I was six years old. At that time all the children at school were being horrible to me and laughed at me so the playground had become my sanctuary; the only place I was peaceful. I became very distant, relationship with my mother was strenuous I was so unhappy and so alone. I found it difficult to make friends or talk openly to people so slowly I drifted away and isolated myself. I did not want to be a part of a world so cruel and full of bad people; I wanted out.

When my father was at home we would always listen to music and I would dance, I loved dancing and I was good at it. Dancing took away a lot of stress I carried, and music took me to a happy place. Each time my father came home he would bring new music, he too was a great music lover and he collected all kinds of music, good music, music for the soul. The atmosphere was congenial when my father was around. However, all was not well between my parents. They argued a lot and most times it ended in physical violence.

Yes, I watched my dear beloved father beat my mother but there was nothing I could do about it. I never understood why, one minute they were drinking, talking, laughing, and dancing and the next minute it was explosive. I loved my father very much, he was a good man and a happy man, but I never understood his relationship with my mother. They never seemed happy with each other, they shared happy moments, but most memories were those of domestic violence I witnessed frequently over the years. What my father did not realise was that the more he beat and hurt my mother, the more she took it out on me, so I really wanted him to stop.

Deep down I loved my mother and I felt sorry for her, she was sad and broken too, just like I was. I wanted to help her, hug her, and tell her that she had me to hold on to, but she made it impossible, she kept pushing me away. It was a sad situation; I could see her pain and yet she rejected me and was causing me the same pain. I hated everything around me and even though I adored my father I hated what he was doing to my mother and what it was doing to me. Our house was loveless, there was no peace or happiness just bitterness and people hurting each other physically and emotionally. I wanted out but I was trapped. I was always afraid and became very fragile.

My father never lay a finger on me neither did I ever feel threatened by him. In fact, he was the only person I felt comfortable around. I looked forward to the days that he came home and missed him dearly when he was away. I missed the music and the laughter, and my mother was not so hostile towards me when he was around. My father was the person who introduced me to my first alcoholic drink. When he and my mother were drinking, he would pour me a small glass of beer and that made me merry. It made me feel good and relaxed and happy, I loved the effects it had on my mind and body. But he was destroying my mother who in turn was destroying me. Like a leaf caught in the autumn wind, I drifted further and further away.

KD.W

00:17hrs

27/01/2024

 

 

 

 

IT IS WHAT IT IS... childhood trauma'

Chapter five

 He was a prominent figure and a member of a family music band. I had seen him on television before, but this was my first time of meeting him face to face. My mother and I were out shopping one afternoon when we bumped into him. She stopped to have a conversation with this handsome young fellow. I had recognised him straight away. He had mistaken me for my mother’s little sister, “No this is not Ruth, it’s Nicolette” my mother corrected him.

“Nicolette! My goodness she has grown. I remember her as a little girl running around in the garden with her doll.” He said, with surprise in his voice and face lit up. I had heard about him; I knew his older brother and two older sisters one of whom had been a bridesmaid at my parents’ wedding. Apparently, our families knew each other really well and had lived in the same neighbourhood at one point. They spoke for a while asking each other about family and life in general, then we separated.

One Saturday afternoon I was taking my two younger brothers for a swim at the main pool in town. As we walked, I heard a male voice shout my name, I looked across the road and saw the handsome young man I had seen a couple weeks prior when I went shopping with my mother. He was walking towards us.

“It’s Mike remember me?” Of course, I remembered him, how could I forget that handsome face. He wore a Michael Jackson red leather jacket all zipped. His hair was well groomed with a kind of Elvis Presley style. A white t-shirt, stonewashed black jeans and a pair of patent white leather pointed shoes. He looked like a real star; he took my breath away.

He told me he was waiting for the 2pm movie at the cinema and wondered if I could join him. Damn! If only I did not have my brothers with me.

“Sorry but I promised the boys I would take them swimming,” I said. So, we arranged to meet after the movie, the cinema was only a few yards away from the main pool. I was so excited; I could not believe that he had recognised me. Surely a guy like that would be having women fall at his feet and he had just asked me out. I could not stop thinking about him I could not wait to see him again. I was young, excitable and infatuated!

Around 4:30pm he was outside the cinema house waiting for me. He walked us home and we arranged to see each other again. I was fifteen years old and he was twenty-one. Because of school and the tight regime at home it was almost impossible to spend time with him because he lived in a different town. I managed a few dates here and there by lying that I had extra activities at school. I wished I could spend more time with him because I had fallen for him really bad.

One day I received a hand posted letter from Mike through a mutual friend from my school, I opened it and it read;

"My darling Nicolette, I miss you so much. I must see you. I am going on a tour with the band and will be gone for a while, so I need to see you before I go. Please my sweet little girl make this happen for us, I have to see you. I love you. Mike"

I missed him too and I had to see him before he set off on his tour, so I came up with a plan. I lied to my mother that my class had arranged a day trip for educational purposes and that every pupil had to go as part of the project. It worked.

My heart was pounding, emotions running high. I could not believe I was spending the whole day with Mike, THE Mike Oh how wonderful the feeling was, I felt special and by this time I had fallen head over heels in love with him. The fact that I did not see him as often made me miss him more and contributed to my feelings of love I had grown for him. I could not wait to see him, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I thought he could be the one to save me from my afflicted life. I wanted him to hold me, caress me and tell me that he felt the same way I did about him.

I met him at the barber’s, my heart was racing; I could see that grooming was important to him, justifiably so, he was a celebrity. When I spotted him, I ran towards him and gave him a big embrace, he reached for a kiss and my heart melted. We travelled on the bus to his apartment which was about forty five minutes out of town. He held me in his arms the whole way. Just what I needed, it felt good, the attention and the feel of being wanted. I was starving from human affection; I was at peace and was happy. I felt safe with my head on his chest hearing each heartbeat and him whispering in my ear. I had never felt that way before with anyone, it was the most amazing feeling.

Shortly after entering his apartment he grabbed me and pulled me against his body and our eyes interlocked. I felt his warm and heavy breath as he reached to kiss my neck. The feeling was overwhelming, a few moments later he carried me in his arms and placed me on the bed. We kissed so passionately I thought the earth would quake, his hands were all over my body, so warm, tender, and sweet, I felt like I was in heaven. I wanted the feeling to last forever, I was in cloud nine.

He reached out for the buttons on my shirt and undid them one by one as his mouth explored my body. He scooped my breasts out of my bra and began suckling on them like a little baby. I was weak in the bones, the sensation below was unbelievable, and this was the furthest we had ever gone. I moaned and groaned with pleasure as his tongue brushed against my skin. The look on his face made me want him more, his eyes were red and barely open, and I could see how much he was enjoying me. It felt really good to be wanted. When he took off his shirt and our bare skins touched, my world exploded.

Moments later I saw him reach for the buttons on my skirt, I tensed, I was not ready to go that far so I stopped him; it worked for a while until he tried again. I knew exactly what would happen if I let him take my skirt off. I was happy at the stage we were at but not sex. I had never been with a man in that way before, I was a virgin. He went for my skirt again, this time with more force.

“Please Michael, no” I begged, but he did not listen. I struggled with him for a bit, but he was way too strong for me and I was afraid he might rip my skirt and how would I explain it to my mother. He continued feeling my body and suckling on my breasts but this time I did not reciprocate. The feeling of pleasure had now turned bitter. I did not appreciate what was going on with me; the man was becoming vigorous, breathing heavily and fast. He got up and took all his clothes off until he was entirely naked, his penis erect and hungry. He then ordered me to take my pants off, his demeanour had changed, and at that point, he was terrifying me.

“Mike please I wanna go home now,” I pleaded almost in tears and in fear. My prince had turned into a beast.

“I said take your pants off or would you like me to do it for you!” Again, we struggled I was trying to keep my pants on, and he wanted them off. He raised his hand and struck me hard on my left cheek followed by a hot double slap on both cheeks I saw stars; my cheeks were burning from the pain.

This cannot be happening; will someone please wake me up because I am having a terrible nightmare! All the while he was fondling my body without a care in the world, I looked up at him and saw a new person. He had transformed into an ugly and scary monster. I felt him spread my legs apart and when I tried to resist, he struck me again on my face, it hurt so bad I burst into tears. I needed to get out of there, but I was trapped, he was not going to let me walk away and I knew what was coming though I did not want to believe it. Suddenly he pulled out something from under his pillow; it was a pocketknife.

“Mike please don’t do this, please I beg you just let me go home. Please don't hurt me I beg you please Michael,” I sobbed in terror.

“You can go home, but after I’ve fucked you first. Look, I know you are not a virgin, because you were raped by that guy all them years ago, everybody knew about it; so what’s the big deal.” A punch hit my chest and blocked my airwave. Did he just say that to me? What is going on here? I seriously need to wake up. The moment I realised that there was no way out, the terror began to kick in. I felt a sharp pain between my legs as he pierced inside me, I gave out a loud cry in agony. With force driven by the excruciating pain, I shoved him off me. He took the knife and aimed it at my chest. I took his hand with both my hands and struggled with him to stop him from stabbing me. Because he was overpowering me, I gave in, my body was stiff; I could not move.

"Oh my God, I thank you for loving me, I am sorry for my sins

For not loving others and not loving you

 Help me to live like Jesus and not sin again. Amen."

I repeated this prayer as he violated my body and hurt me. As he diminished and took control over my body and treating it like a worthless piece of meat. He pleasured himself and feasted on my body whilst I lay there in tears and in pain, whilst I lay there stiff and frozen. Each thrust was like being cut by a sharp razor blade inside, it hurt badly. The rape went on for hours he even took breaks in between and each time I tried to get dressed he would tell me, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Please God make him stop, make this whole nightmare go away. I promise to be good from now on and I am sorry I lied to my mother about the school trip, please forgive me. I promise you I will be good from here on please just make him stop hurting me I beg of you Lord”

I prayed as I wept in horror and pain as Mike continued to assault me. My screams, tears and my pleading seemed to turn him on even more. After what seemed to be a decade of a horrifying ordeal, he gave out a loud roar and collapsed on top of me.

I was rigidly, lost, and discombobulated. I was hurting physically, mentally, and emotionally. My mind was still trying to figure out what had just happened. I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling then I turned to look at Mike who lay on his back, face showing satisfaction. My love for him had. in an instant. turned into pure hate. The sheets were stained with blood, my blood and I ached. I got up from the bed and reached out for my clothes which were scattered everywhere, I felt shameful and dirty as I got dressed. When I walked it hurt between my legs, I felt cheap and filthy.

I could not tell anyone about my ordeal with Mike, if my mother found out she would kill me. I was not even supposed to have a boyfriend at that age so how was I to explain what had happened. I hated Mike for what he did to me but worse I hated myself for putting myself in that situation. I could not believe that someone I loved and trusted could do such a cruel thing to me. I had fallen deeply in love with him; no-one else had paid any attention to me. The beliefs that I had a demon following me became even stronger because all I did was attract evil.

My mother was the one person I feared, for two weeks I bled and could not walk properly because of the damage Mike had done to me but I had to force myself to walk and act normal so that she did not suspect anything. I suffered in silence and told no one just in case it leaked to my mother. This would be the third time in fifteen years that I had been sexually abused. Three different unrelated incidents by three unrelated individuals. I was convinced that I was cursed and in my head it all made sense why my mother despised me and how I was unable to attach to people. I felt like an outcast who did not belong. I started attracting evil right from when I was a child and evil was still haunting me.

When Mike raped me, I wanted to run into my mother’s arms and weep until the pain went away. I wanted her to comfort me and listen to my nightmare. I wanted her to hold me tight and tell me that everything would be alright because she would care for me and protect me. Only God knew how my heart had been shredded because I went back to Mike twice after the rape and he did the same thing over and over. Both times happened at the motel the band was performing at; it was a big room with a bed at the end and a bathroom and toilet. This was the room the band kept their equipment and changed for performances.

The bed was covered on one side by a curtain rail but if anyone was going to use the bathroom it became into full view from that angle because the bathroom door was right opposite of the bed. His brothers and other members of the band would pass by to use the bathroom whilst he was raping me. I felt so cheap and shameful as they all watched me being fucked and all Michael wanted, was to satisfy his sick and perverted sexual appetite. What frightened me the most was the way he shook violently when he was having an orgasm; it was as if he was being charged by electricity, like he had been overcome by some powerful demonic spirit. I endured hours of it, whilst I lay there with each part of my body tense, praying for it to be over.

 

 

 

IT IS WHAT IT IS... 'a mother behind bars'

CHAPTER One

 

“My darling Nikolas,

I love you. I meant it when I told you that I too was in love with you. You never believed me, maybe now from where you are, you can see through my heart and know how genuine I was to you. I have always loved you Nikolas even though the going often got rough between us. I miss you so much my love. I told you before Nik, that the world is not the same without you. I need you. I want you to want me and hold me like you used to, tightly in your arms like you would never let go. I miss sniffing your scent so I could always remember you. When you were not lying next to me, I would sleep with one of your shirts on so I could have you close to me. The smell always felt like you were laying right beside me.

 

I enjoyed sleeping with you Nikolas Martins. I loved waking up with you. I always remember how needy you were in the mornings and how I was always at your service, I miss that. I cannot stop crying. I cry every day for you, for the girls and for your mum. She is hurting and there is nothing I can do to ease her pain. You know you used to tell me that you were like a daughter she never had, well the first time I met her, I wanted to be that daughter that she never had. She was warm and open with me; I took a liking to her instantly. When she lectured to you on how you should treat me with respect, I admired that, she never took sides. She accepted me even though I was four years older than you and also the fact that I had two children from a previous marriage; a personality that I honoured.

 

I am finding it difficult to accept that you are gone forever. You said you would never leave me, so why did you leave me in such a way Nik? Leaving me in such a way that I would never see you again. It hurts so bad and the pain will not stop, no amount of painkillers is enough to ease the hurt. It feels as if someone is shoving pins into my body every second of the day. I am restless and exhausted.

 

They took the girls away from me Nikolas, my children are gone, and so are you. I am left on my own, just me and my empty world. I still have the mental image of us in the car that day. The impact of the crash and your warm blood pouring over me drenching my bright yellow dress and your blood spattered all over the girls’ faces. I am never going to forget you my love, you made sure of that.

 

“Nicolette, you are going to be the death of me. I was told that I would be killed by the person that I fall in love with. I will not make it to my forties. I will die at thirty-six, and you Nicolette are going to be a witness to my death. I love you; I have never felt like this for any woman. I don’t know what you have done to me, but I have fallen deeply in love with you, so it is you, who is going to be the death of me. You are going to be my killer Nicolette Wallace”

 

These are words you repeated over and over. You told me these words often, but I did not take you seriously. I should have paid attention but then again, who would? No one is supposed to know when death is coming to take them away. I still do not know whether you knew it or whether it was just a coincidence (although as you know, I personally do not believe in coincidences). Over the years, your story remained the same, it never changed, and what freaked me out was the fact that it happened just the way you predicted. I was the driver that crashed the car that killed you and you died two weeks after we celebrated your thirty sixth birthday. Coincidence or fate? Guess I will never know but it is spooky.

 

If this was meant to be, then that makes me, a very special part of you. I thank you for choosing me to walk you on your final journey. We used to walk each other everywhere, by phone or in person. I walked with you to the end of your road, it gives me peace in my mind. Many people are not as fortunate to be taken away by death surrounded by loved ones, it is that what makes you special to me Nik and I, special to you. It is that what makes us special to one another and what binds us in eternal love.

 

People never understood our love. We both seemed to enjoy the aches and excitement that came with the territory. We could not live with each other and yet we could not stay apart. No matter how vile the situation got, we ended up together again, always. Making up was the greatest part; it was almost as if we picked arguments just so we could enjoy each other more. We were great together but so bad for each other, tragedy was inevitable Nikolas. We both knew it, we talked about it, but the bond we shared was stronger than any reality we were living.

 

I now believe, Nikolas that it was supposed to happen the way it happened. I had never quite met a man like you, stubborn. No one could stop you from getting what you wanted, and no-body got away with hurting you. You believed in revenge, yes, you used to say, “Now we are even Stevens” with that smirk on your face showing self-satisfaction. You did not let anybody get in your way when you set your mind on something, always planning and plotting.

 

I admired your courage and determination and your lack of fear for anyone. You thought you could fight the world on your own and had so much confidence in yourself. You were smart and very manipulative and that is what made you the man you were, the survivor and the victor. You carried on without a care in this world as if you wore an invisible armour that you knew was protecting you. It was as if you knew that you were not going to be part of this world for long and that you were just passing by.

 

A lot of people shut their doors on you, but you found means and ways to survive through another night and another day. Each time I saw you with a fresh wound and I asked how you got it, your response was always the same “Nicolette, I have to survive”. My heart would sink for you, it hurt even more when towards the end, even I, could not help you any longer. Each day passing, I watched you waste away. I watched you slowly drift away from this world, and I could not reach out to you.  Your soul had travelled far away and out of my range.

 

Your heart was as hard as steel as if you were dead inside. You showed no emotion, no remorse, and no feeling apart from anger. Yes Nik, you were a terribly angry man, ill-tempered, fast to react and hurt people. The alcohol did not help, it fuelled the negative emotions you carried around and exploded them into a ball of fire. That was part of the reason we ended up on the motorway to disaster. The end of the road.

 

Situations got heated up, but I never stopped loving you Nikolas. I wanted us to change. I wanted you to change. I needed you to be the things you were not; I was asking a lot from a man who knew that his existence on this planet was limited. You did not have time to make plans because you knew there was no future. I was a fool who did not listen or pay attention. We could have cherished our time together and appreciated each other more. Nevertheless, my darling, I want you to know that I do not have regrets, our paths were meant to cross and will meet again. You will always have a special place in my heart.

 

 Love you always and forever. Rest in peace my love, till the day we meet again.

Your loving Nicolette" xxx

 

 

IT IS WHAT IT IS... 'a mother behind bars'

CHAPTER Thirty three

On Thursday the 30^th of October 2014, I received a telephone call from my solicitor with the long awaited news. For months, I had been dreading the 1st of November, the day I was to be charged with the criminal case concerning the death of Nik which, had been moved from the 6th of May.

“Hello Nicolette, this is Dianne from Dobbs solicitors, I have some news for you. We have received an email from the officer in charge of your case and we know exactly what’s going to happen to you on Saturday.” My heart sank. I was not prepared for the news at least not for another two days; I was still preparing myself mentally.

“Oh, please Dianne don’t tell me, I am not ready”.

“No Nik, it is actually good news!”

“Good news? How can it be good news?” I was puzzled and perplexed. I remembered the first conversation we had about the possible charges, whether it would be ‘death by dangerous driving’ or ‘death by carelessness.’

“They are charging you with driving without care and attention whilst above the limit you will probably get a fine and points off your licence.”

“Dianne do not joke with me, are you saying that I will not be going to prison?”

“No prison, just a slap on the wrist and that’s it”.  I could not believe my ears, was I dreaming? The whole conversation ended with me on top of the world. I cannot begin to explain my feelings and emotions that followed. I was overjoyed, I could finally move on with my life and put all the past behind me, most importantly, I could start fighting to have my children back.

“This is a miracle, God; you will never know how much you have given me back.” I said out loud to myself. I knelt down and prayed.

“Oh, thank you Father for this day, you are a God of miracles and I am going to tell the whole world what you have done for me!!!”

I wanted to tell someone, but from my experiences that previous month, I thought I should take it easy and wait for Saturday to be formally charged. I wanted to see it in writing. I wanted to speak with proof in my hands. I believed it of course, otherwise why would my solicitor give me wrong or false information? I just could not believe it was happening to me. Everyone in the office was cheering for me, especially, considering the time the case has stalled. I called the only two people who had been by my side throughout this ordeal. I did not manage to get hold of Nina, but I spoke to Minty and gave her the news, even she could not believe it, we talked about the whole issue and both agreed that now I could finally move on with my life.

“Now I can start all over, get my girls back and marry Idris Elba.” I joked and laughed

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep,

I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints of snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush, I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in a circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.

 by Mary Elizabeth Frye

 

I wore these words around my neck each day. I wanted to know one thing for me to move on, I did not care much about what people said or felt about me causing the accident that killed Nik. I had gone through different emotions and thoughts, but the one thought that kept coming back in my head was the curiosity of knowing whether Nik was at peace with me. It mattered to me to know that he was not angry with me. I kept praying to God for a sign; to show me that Nik was cool with me and that in fact he meant everything he said to me before he died. That he understood that what happened on the 16^th of February 2014, was a tragic accident.

After days of prayer, I saw a pendant in a magazine with the lovely soothing words. It was amazing, the rush I got when I read it, as if it were Nik talking to me. Was this the sign? I bought the pendant without giving any thought to it, I was convinced the message was meant for me and that it was not by accident that I came across it at the time that I did. It was my way of having Nik with me at all times, to protect me and assure me. After wearing the pendant for a while, I received the news from my solicitor, that was more than the sign I needed, it all made sense in my head.

Very nervously on Saturday morning, I got myself ready for the long awaited journey to Peterborough police station. I did not sleep much but I rested enough to prepare myself for the ordeal ahead. I started preparing early; taking my time because my head was all over the place. Everything had turned out to be perfect, c’mon; this was me, never had any luck with anything in my life, so why would my luck suddenly change?

At the same time, although I was over the moon, I thought about his family, how they felt about me, how much pain they went through each day. It was sad that they cut all ties with me; I thought we would support each other in grief, but I guess people react differently to loss, especially of loved ones, so for that, I respected their wishes. After Nik died, I maintained contact with Ann Marie, she was there supporting me and was there when I cried. But after a few days, she texted me saying she had been told by Nik’s mum to cut contact with me and she apologised to me saying she had to respect mum’s wishes. That was the last time we ever spoke. I just prayed that one day they all find peace and be able to move on without the pain. Each time I cried for Nik, I cried for his mother. I was in agony after his death and I could not imagine her pain.

 I was worried about the charges that Dianne had advised me, how the family would take the news that I was not going to be punished for causing Nik’s death. After the accident they assured me that they did not blame me for the accident, they even informed me that the police had been in touch with them asking if they wanted to press charges against me, but they to let it go. However, there were many issues I did not understand which I may never have answers to, but I learnt to cope. Although, I worried about his family, I realised it was Nik that I needed to make peace with, because it was Nik that I shared my life with. So, at that point, I knew I could not worry about anything else, I needed to focus on the case and my children. I had to put the past behind me so I could be able to take the next step forward.

My appointment was for 4pm at Thorpewood police station in Peterborough, with PC John Thorn. He was one of the officers who conducted the initial interview, which was held on the 6^th of May 2014. I arrived there shortly before four, I just wanted it over and done with. Officer Thorn was alerted, and he came to me straight away. He was very polite and took me to the front desk and explained how simple the procedure was going to be. My head was spinning, I could hear everything the sergeant was saying to me but at the same time, I was battling with my own thoughts. Was this finally it? All those years of sadness and pain, was this the end? All those tears, was today the last day of crying tears of sorrow? Those years and hours of prayer and faith, was this my final moment? Was the pain and suffering honestly over? Was this a miracle, just like the one I have been praying for all these years? Has God finally come through for me? Was this my day?

The moment I saw Nik’s name on my charges, I almost collapsed. I could feel the pain, the emotions, the tears, the shock, the confusion. I stared at the sheet of paper as if I had seen a ghost, that moment played in slow motion. I could hear the PC’s voice in the back of my head reading the charges to me, but I was in a trance. I did not react, I remained still and paralysed. I was in shock.   

Charge (s) Causing death by undue care while over the prescribed limit

On 16/02/2014 at A47 Leicester road, you caused the death of Nikolas Martins who died on Monday the 17^th February 2014, by driving a mechanically propelled vehicle, being a motor vehicle namely blue BMW registration mark V481 GCU, without due care and attention, and when you had consumed so much alcohol that the proportion of it in your breath, namely a range of between 81-116 micrograms of alcohol in 100 ml of breath, at that time exceeded the prescribed limit.

 I was numb, I did not know how to react or what to think, sure enough it did not take long, it was short and swift, all done in less than fifteen minutes, right there at the front desk. I had been formally charged with the death of Nikolas Martins. They were holding me responsible for Nik’s death, but how could that be? I thought everything was going according to God’s plan; to finally set me free. Day and night, I chanted a psalm:

“Do not let me be put to shame, Oh Lord.

Do not let my enemies’ triumph over me.

Do not look on my sins, but on the faith, I have in You Lord.

Be with me always every hour until the hour of my death. Amen.”

The perplexity deepened, Dianne, my solicitor told me that she had received an email from PC Thorn, and there was no mention about causing death. So, what was going on? Were they playing games with me just to push me over the edge?  If that was the case, where did God fit in to all of this? I was glad that I did not have to spend so much time at the station because the world was going too fast for me, I needed to go back to my room and breathe. After reading out the charges he informed me that Nik’s mother had been in touch with him and she had advised that I should not contact any member of her family, it was an official warning from the police. Another blow to my head!

I left the bed and breakfast at 1345hrs to travel to Peterborough and I was back in my room at 1830hrs, that is how speedy proceedings were. I was dying inside; pain and grief were eating me slowly. My life was over, the hopes that I had built up a couple of days before, the dreams and plans I had made, all just came tumbling down right before my eyes. I had neither power nor control; that was taken away from me on the 16^th of February 2014. I felt helpless and immobilized.

It hurt bad, I thought about my family, my mother, my children. I kept asking God “WHY?” but yet again I did not have the answers. I opened a music file on my laptop labelled ‘NikMemos’, with every song that reminded me of the past five years together, he had been gone nine months, but he was still with me. Like he always said, “I will never leave you, you are my wife; I will always be lingering in the background.” He was damn right about that one.

I was listening to my music walking down memory lane, emotions flying high. I opened a bottle of wine which I had picked up from the shop on the way, and I switched off my phone. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Moments later, I heard a knock at the door, I opened it and saw a tall slim good-looking Asian guy I had never seen before. He was wearing hotel uniform, so I figured he was a member of staff for that night. He rudely asked me to turn the music down because there was a gentleman who had just moved in downstairs, who wanted peace. I explained to the gentleman that I was having a bad day and that I had been staying at the hotel for the past eight months and had never troubled anybody.

When he left, I went to room eleven downstairs and knocked on the door. I apologised to the gentlemen in question and explained to him what was going on and that I was not coping very well, and music was the only way I could cope at that moment. The gentleman apologised, in all fairness he too seemed to have been going a rough time judging by the state of him. After returning to my room a few minutes later, there was yet another knock on my door. When I opened the door, the same guy in uniform was in front of my door, this time he was quite intimidating. I felt as if he was evading my personal space, so I shoved him away and told him to leave me alone, then with a clenched fist, he moved towards me, stopped, stared right in my face, turned, and walked.

I could not believe that a member of staff of such an establishment would behave in such threatening manner. I went downstairs to purchase some beers; I was out of wine. I ordered four bottles of Stella Artois and told the gentleman at the front desk what happened upstairs.

“Don’t worry about it, don’t worry. Here, there is one more beer on the house” he tried to calm me down.

“But did you hear what I said?” I insisted.  The guy suddenly appeared in the background and I pointed at him and identified him as the guy who had his fist clenched at me.

“No, no, no its ok, I will talk with him. It is just that the guy in number eleven has paid a lot of cash he says he wants peace and quiet, so don’t worry ok? I talk to him, here take your drinks.”

“Ok,” I left on that note and went back upstairs, had a bit more drink whilst listening to my music then eventually fell asleep.

Next morning, I had an appointment with my probation officer, Michaela Holiday, she was doing a home visit. First thing I did was to dial zero for reception and asked for the manager. A familiar voice answered, Sabah, the lady at the reception, she informed me that she was the duty manager for that day. I told her what happened the previous night with the member of staff. Without even giving it a moment to let me finish, she interrupted me.

“No that didn’t happen.” She said to me in an abrupt tone of voice. I was knocked for six, so to speak, right there and then I froze. I put the receiver down and made my way downstairs, I was furious.  I threw a rage and cursed at her, shouting in the lobby, dining, and kitchen, I wanted her to hear what I had to say. She grabbed the phone and I suspected she was calling the police and her family of managers. After my fit, I went back upstairs and opened a bottle of Stella from last night, still fuming with rage.

A few moments later, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and in front of me stood two police officers; honestly, I was not surprised to see them. In fact, it was part of the reason why I opened that beer bottle. The policemen informed me that they were there to see me out because I had been evicted.

“No one has informed me that I have been evicted. What were the reasons of eviction? I thought the rules of the system were that you give someone notice of eviction, and when that person refuses to leave, then the police get involved.” I said and proceeded to explained to them my situation at the B&B and also informed them that my PO was on her way so if they could wait a couple more minutes. I was not allowed to go out of the room for air. One of the police officers began to man handle me telling me to stay where I was. I told him that I was about to have a panic attack and I just wanted to stand at the balcony and have some air. I tried to make my way out because I could feel a panic attack coming; he grabbed me by my arm and twisted it behind my back detaining me in the room.

This was winding me up even more, he was not listening to a word I was saying. He told me he was not interested in what was going on, their directions were to remove me from the property, and they were not leaving until they had achieved just that. I was telling them that I did not have a place to go and that I was almost assaulted by a member of staff the previous night. The situation was getting out of control, they said they could not wait any longer.  I refused to take my belongings onto the street because the system had put me in that situation and so I expected the system to get me out without making me destitute.

By the time Michaela arrived, the situation had escalated. The two police officers were trying to get me out of the hotel, and I was resisting. By resisting, I was struggling with them and in doing so I made physical contact with one of them. The next I knew; I was in chains with hands behind my back. I was being arrested for assaulting a police officer, I struggled some more whilst kicking and screaming.

What the hell was going on? Everything became just a vision, a vision I was not part of. The handcuffs were hurting my hands and I kept telling them how much pain they were causing. I was in agony. Three weeks back I had just been to the emergency room, complaining about my back and shoulders. Even at one of my contacts with the girls, I could not be as active as I always, was due to the immense pain.

They put straps around my knees and ankles and carried me downstairs with me facing downwards as if they were carrying an animal to the slaughter. I felt degraded as all the guests watched on. As we approached the reception my eyes met with Sabah’s and that brought out the animal in me. I cannot describe in words the emotions that went through me, the blood rush, the heartbeat; it was all getting too much. She got to treat me like a piece of garbage and get away with it for months and now she also had icing on her cake by getting the pleasure of watching me in that position. Even I, felt sorry for me at that point. I was so hurt beyond explanation.

“What have I ever done to you? I will kill you Sabah! I am coming back to kill you! I swear I will kill you!” I was crying uncontrollably, screaming from my lungs and shouting. “Why God Why, why is this happening to me?”

 They shoved me at the back of the police van and shut me in. I was in agony, my wrists hurt so did all the bones in my body, I was exhausted mentally and emotionally. I travelled to the police station laying on my side on the floor in straps and handcuffs.  There was more drama at the police station because I was out of control. I was behaving like an enraged bull; it took several officers to pin me down. I felt my face pinned down on the cold and dirty floors, I was finally booked and locked up.

I had suffered a great ordeal. After moments of being locked up I had a panic attack. I explained to the officers that I could not have the door shut because I could not breathe. The sergeant was very understanding he had the door opened and a police officer guarding me. I had several panic attacks and at one point the nurse took me outside for some air.

I remembered that I used to say that there was no pain greater than labour pains, I was wrong. On that day, I could have given birth to five children and still not match up the pain that I was going through. I had never felt so much pain in my entire life; I had never cried the way I did on that day. I cried, I prayed, and sang on top of my lungs. I sang all day, my voice, was all you could hear in the whole police station. I sang and wept. At times, I would close my eyes and then open them again just to convince myself that I was having a bad dream, but no, it was all real. I was in a police cell; I had no power or privilege. Helpless, alone and broken.

That night in the cell felt like a week, each second felt like an hour. I could not get into a comfortable position, each part of my body ached, but the pain would never match up with what I was feeling inside. “Please somebody take this pain away from me, I can’t take it anymore it hurts.” I wept. Around midnight, I was told I would be going to court the following morning, which meant I was spending the night in detention, my heart was crushed. I felt as if someone was stabbing me right in the middle of my heart repeatedly. I cried for my children.

“My children, my children, oh Angel and Star; what is happening to us? Oh, my babies! Oh, dear Lord, is this the life you have chosen for me? Life of pain and suffering, what is really my purpose on this earth, what exactly am I doing here? My children! Where is my mother, why am I in so much pain, where is my mother!? Oh God make the pain stop! Please, I beg you make it go away please God I beg you to make it stop!” I howled!

This went on until I exhausted myself to asleep. Each time I looked around me I asked the same question, “Why am I here, Lord?” Was there a deeper meaning to all this? I had been chucked out of my home in March, we reached November and I was still living in a B&B which I had just been evicted from. I was alone, no children, all three children were taken away from me in different circumstance. My first pregnancy, Rokie, whom I miscarried at fifteen weeks, my two girls and my best friend Nik. I felt deserted and stricken.

In the morning I asked if I could have a shower and a change of underwear, I signed some papers at reception, and I was told to go back in the cells whilst I waited for transport. I was taken to a van and was once again chained even though I showed the lady my bruised and swollen wrists. I saw tiny cubicle which they were going to lock me up in and I freaked. I burst into tears and began shaking and breathing heavily, I was having a panic attack. They took me out of the van, back in the cell whilst they got a van with more room and then after a long wait, I was off to court.

I was chained again and escorted to the front desk and after booking in I had to be locked up in a cell. My solicitor came to see me and explained the procedure and also apologised for the mix up with my charges which she thought was the trigger for my current situation. She was very right to say that because my emotions had been stirred up and I did not know how to handle myself anymore.

I also saw a duty nurse who had attended to me before in a separate incident, he remembered the case very well and we had a chat about it. He was very friendly and understanding and it felt good to talk to someone who knew which corner I was coming from. After that I was again chained and led upstairs to court, I was still under arrest. I was behind a glassed cubicle with a guard behind me. My case was presented and analysed, I was ordered to pay compensation to the officers in question for the assault, two hundred and ten pounds and also six months engaging with the Just Women Project plus twenty days to engage with the Freedom Project.

Even though I was on bail for a more serious offence, the Judge had gone through my file and was concerned about my mental health and he said prison would not be the best place for me at that time. An act of humanity which was desperately needed and much appreciated. I was free to go, but I was homeless. I was free to walk out, but still imprisoned mentally. I was free, but my soul was bound in chains and shackles...