Slave Girl Read Online Free PDF

Terrified, of course, but there was just something completely horrible in knowing that they would track me down and in waiting to feel them grab hold of me.
    And after I was caught they had an extra punishment for me – and for the others like me – ‘runaways’ and those who couldn’t be trusted to stay put and endure the misery they heaped on us. They took our shoes away and made us go barefoot at all times. Barefoot or not I was determined to get away, even though I knew they would always catch me. It was as if the act of trying to escape was an essential defence mechanism which enabled me to survive there.
    And then, one night, a miracle happened. I climbed out the window, dropped to the ground without hurting myself and sprinted away across the fields. I expected to hear the chase and feel the dogs come for me at any moment, but there was nothing – just me and the night air and the silence. I ran and ran and ran. I know I fell down and tripped into ditches – though I can’t remember doing so – because by the time I got to a bus stop I was covered in black mud from the fields. That night bus seemed to take forever to arrive but I finally climbed on board and paid the five pence fare to Gateshead. It was the best five pence I’ve ever spent in my life.
    One of my brother’s friends had a flat in town. In the dead of night I found my way there and banged on the door until he opened it. I was dirty and ragged, and must have looked completely wild. But, having come so far – having finally escaped from my prison – I was determined that he would let me in and give me sanctuary. And he did. I told him everything that night: I poured out my heart and must have convinced him how badly I needed a safe place to stay because he agreed to let me live there for as long as I needed. The flat was tiny, with only one bedroom. By night I slept on the couch in the living room, by day I sat in the kitchen smoking endless cigarettes and drinking innumerable cups of tea.
    In retrospect, it was a very odd arrangement – and one that looks suspicious: a young man harbouring a teenage runaway – but it wasn’t that way at all. My brother’s friend was a good and kind person, someone who could see that I simply needed some space to recover a little strength. I lived in his flat for three months, hiding out and terrified someone would turn up at the door to cart me back off to that terrible care home. Somehow, though, they never did.
    But I couldn’t stay there forever. Someone would be bound to notice there was a young teenager living in the flat with a man several years older than she was, a school-age girl who never went to school. So before anyone could report me I got in touch with the Social Services – hoping against hope they would listen to me and not take me back to the house in the fields with the men who raped or beat me every night.
    I must have said something right: the social worker listened and promised me I wouldn’t ever have to go back. And I didn’t. Instead, I was taken to a boarding school in the Lake District.
    At first I didn’t settle. I suppose I’d got used to the little flat and being back in Gateshead again. This boarding school, Riverside, was even more out in the country than the terrible care home. But gradually I came to love it and be happy for the first time in I don’t know how long. In some ways it reminded me of my mum’s uncle’s place in Scotland: it was peaceful like that and the air felt fresh and clean. Above all, though, I felt safe. I felt that at last none of the terrible things that had happened to me could ever come back and drag me down again.
    I started doing school work again – maths, English, a bit of science – just like a normal teenager. I listened to music, read magazines, gossiped with my friends … And I thought to myself, ‘At last – something is going right.’
    And I discovered that I had a talent: art. As a child I’d always liked drawing and I could