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25 April 2007

The Addict/My Devil

My Devil was a strange mix of needy clingyness and leaving me for weeks without so much as a phone call. At first I thought this was how it was supposed to be. We would meet up and it was all passion and lust though again we never had sex.

I found that to my suprise it was not me who was stopping the sex, he just never actually tried. He would dry hump me for hours and it was me who undid my trousers, me that allowed him access to my breasts – this would have been considerate of him though he had never asked if I was a virgin and the general consensus was that I was not.

Without the red make up on I saw that his skin was covered in strange red marks, I asked to be told that he had a liver problem. I was concerned about his drinking, something that they all did instead of eating. He smiled and kissed me. We would walk for hours discussing the more abstract side of sci-fi.

Back at the flate I would let him and the other boys tie me up, their favourite was to put clothes pegs on me, attatched to a rope/tape thing, then they would pull it off of me. I was so nieve that I did not realise that this was a sexual thing, I thought we were all just mucking about, I also thought that it was a normal part of what boyfriends and girlfriends did.

Now don’t get me wronge its not that I didn’t like this treatment becuase I did but I didn’t understand what it was and what annoys me is by this point they knew that I hadn’t exactly done anything with anyone. I feel that them doing this to a virgin that did not understand what it was was an abuse of me. The thing is I would have probably let them do it anyway – if they had explained – if they had asked.

Ultimatly though I know that the blame does lie with me, I would sit there passively and let them do all this. I never said no and even when I was in My Devils bed I would lie there afraid to react, horny but afraid.

I doubt with hind sight that they even knew what they were doing, My Devil was acting strange, he seemed to like this sort of thing happening but if I was to try and just, say talk to one of the others he would come and claim me away. My eighteenth came and I was wearing the catsuit I had designed, it was flared becuase I’m me, but it was black and looked good with the black lipstick and little silver tiarer.

They came along and the club played Placebo and PJ Harvey and Terravision, and Do Harst and a host of others and I love dancing and would dance the whole night away. I would have if he hadn’t kept grabing me, making me forcibly sit on him, I really begain to resent this, it was the pattern when ever we went out. I wasn’t allowed to be me, I wasnt allowed to dance I had to sit with him, I felt like a prize, I had to be on his arm so everyone could see.

He had been getting thiner and their ramshackle flate with its bare peeling walls stedily filing will the most fantastic graffitti and manga doodles had become somewhere that I didn’t like and yet I was drawn to.

Drug use, extreme to my young eyes, became apparent, people collapsed around candles, strange sickly sweet smells, later there were syringes. I didn’t ask what they were taking, I didn’t want to know, as if not knowing would absolve me of the guilt. I would just sit there and fret about them all, checking vitial signs panicking that they would die. Horrible people begain to hang around their flate, I remember trying to consol My Devil when one of these hangers on stole £500 worth of stuff from the flate to feed their own habite.

My Devils eyes were dull, were was the guitarist, the man who would be a music engineer? And then he turned to me after weeks of ignoring me, I had heard nothing form him, his flate mate had had to sell the one phone they’d had between them, he hadn’t had any money to come and see me as had spent everything on drugs and alcohol, he hadn’t eaten for days. I had wanted to dump him but now he was suicidial and crying at me and I didn’t know what to do.

I could not go and see him very freely due to parental restriction and the fact that I earnt £10 a week doing two sodding paper rounds and that was all the money I had – I would spend £5 of it to get into the Club once a week and then just hope that drinks would appear from somewhere else – I used to smuggle bottles of water in as it was just before the clubs were made to have free water (well in fact it had already come in but wasn’t yet enforced).

Then to systematicially trying to get me to drop my A’levels, why put my self through all this stress? he would ask, I could come and live with them. They would form a band and I could sing and and and and…

I wanted out, I wasn’t happy but I got a phone call from his brother telling me how great it was that someone was finially looking after his bother, caring for him. He was getting thinner and thinner and more suicidial and I was eighteen and I’m afriad selfish. I didn’t want to be dragged down into their world, I saw it as a dead end, I wanted to rescue him but it became apparent I couldn’t and he was becoming more and more restrictive over what I was allowed to do.

Then to his birthday party and to the thing I feel so guilty for, I dumped him, dumped him on his birthday after he’d come to my birthday, and had valentines, I dumped him.

I had been trying to work out how but I had not wanted to do it around valentines day as he’d got me a presant and I felt it would be unfair. By this point I thought of him as The Addict and yet I could not sever the ties. I could not brake off the relationship.

Then his birthday party – he gave me the perfect excuess, he gave me fear of a new kind, he gave me guilt and paranoia.

I do not know what was going through his mind, I think he didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted and my strange combination of horny fridgedness did not help. I was giving out more than a few confussed messages, he had a solution to this.

No that is unfair he said he hadn’t known. His flate mates gave me a huge glass, they told me it was a refersher cocktial, lemonade, refreshers, gluclose tablets fizzing in the bottom, it was a strange yellow colour. I smiled and begain drinking it.

And then its a jumble of memories, nothing much, my female comrade was there apparently I spilt alot of the drink. She went off with her boyfriend.

I dont remember anything, I awoke groggy and confussed, someone was tugging at my jeans – this had awoken me, my trousers and knickers half way down my legs. I tried to scream for help.

I remember struggling out of the bedroom, my female comrade was there and she held me up as I couldn’t walk, there was shouting.

Everyone came to see what was going on, I was confussed and disorientated, laughter over the spiked drink. I looked at him, he tried to reach out for me but my friend pulled me away shouting that I didn’t want to go out with him anymore, ‘is that true?’ he asked sounding lost and small.

‘I can’t,’ I said and then becuase I am me and I knew this to have been my fualt I said what I always end up saying, ‘it’s not you – its me, I just can’t do this.’

He burst into tears and I wanted to hug him, wanted to go to him, everybody was watching but I was in a fog, the aftermath of what ever it was they had given me.

My friend dragged me away and we sat in a park until I was normal enough to go home.

I have found this stupidly hard to write about – I hadn’t realised how difficult it would be.