I wonder if you remember my name.
You stole my toy, my Lemur. Her name was Pomfritte. I bet you don't know her name either. My Pomfritte, do you still have her? Is she locked in a cupboard somewhere? Is she on a tip somewhere, is she covered in rubbish and forgotten? I haven't forgotten here.
Have you forgotten me?
Because of you, the first thing that I can remember is being abused. I can remember other things from being little too. I remember the time we took the shed down in the back garden, my dad and his dad and my mum's brother, I remember taking the pieces down and how we had Greek salad and ham for lunch afterwards. I remember our Siamese cat and how she used go, "Na na na," at the birds and how she'd lie in the sun on the kitchen floor. I remember being small enough to sit on the kitchen table.
But before any of that, or maybe at the same time, I remember the things you did to me. Do you remember them? Do you remember the ways you used to hurt me? How you'd seperate me from the other kids because I was 'bad' and take me upstairs and 'punish' me. It was difficult for you to rape me, wasn't it? I was too small.
Were there other kids? That's what makes me feel so guilty. If it had just been me, that would be ok. What makes me worried is that maybe you took someone else too. That you did the same things to someone else as to me. That by saying something I could have stopped someone else from being abused. But I never said anything.
The creche you worked in has closed down now. The sign is no longer on the door. It's all packed up, the house of horrors is sold. Who lives there now? I wonder sometimes. But that's not important.
I don't know what I would say to you. Please give me back my lemur? I don't even know if I hate you. I hate these memories. My psychatrist keeps telling me that I should tell the police. I don't want to. But what if you're hurting someone else?
I'm a bad girl. And I miss Pomfritte. And I guess what I have to thank you for is that the first things I remember is being abused. But don't worry, for seventeen years your secret was safe with me. And now I can speak of it, I don't really know who to tell.
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