(Warning: This letter contains sexually explicit references.)

I call these years the lost years …

… because that’s exactly what they were. I was 14, my dad was working 12 hour shifts & I hardly seen him. My mum was a bad alcoholic at this point as she couldn’t cope with the loss of her dad.

My older brother left because he couldn’t cope with her & I had had enough of wiping her sick away, changing her & listening to her slurs. I started to hang around with the local shop gang, smoking weed & drinking.

I was in trouble at school & always fighting. A lad older than me began to tell me I was pretty etc & I felt flattered & wanted. He was 21 & we began a relationship. He took me to a house where I was introduced to heroin as naive as this sounds I really didn’t know that this was what it was.

After a month or so I started feeling really ill & was told it was heroin I had been taking it was the only thing that would make me feel better & now I had to start paying for it myself. So my life of crime started. I stole, shop-lifted & burgled commercial premises for my fix.

At 16 I had my son. I split with his dad & tried to get clean but he was taken away by social services at the age of one & placed with a family member due to my addiction this made me far worse. I was homeless & slept wherever I could, stealing food & drifting in & out of different circles. Eventually I became wanted by Staffordshire police & the girls I went ‘earning’ with & myself turned our attentions to the West Midlands.

I met many girls who were pimped out by Muslim gangs …

… given nothing more than a plastic coke bottle full of water to wash themselves with in between ‘punters’ on the streets of Birmingham. One of the girls I knew ended up this way controlled by fear & drug addiction.

I still see her today on the odd occasion I go to Birmingham walking round with black eyes.

During my time on the streets of Birmingham I had the attitude I was brought up with (that) there are good & bad in every race.

One night my friend & I were approached by a few Muslim men …

… They told me they were Persian & seemed to sympathise with our plight blaming white men for treating women wrong etc., telling us the peaceful ways of Islam.

They were men in their 30s & seemed so gentle. They offered help & I decided to go back to their house as they asked, which wasn’t far. One told me his name was Bal but i found out later this was not his real name he also went by the name of Abdul.

Back at the house I was given vodka & told to drink. Bal made me feel at ease & I began to think Islam was a peaceful religion. One of the men back at the house was very nice. He went by the name of Sam & said he was a Christian convert.

I stayed there but into the next day it began to feel hostile as if I couldn’t leave as the conversation changed into converting to Islam as that I was beautiful I didn’t deserve the life I had & that I need to stay with them.

I was given drugs & more vodka …

… I said I didn’t want to drink but the tone of voice changed & I was told to drink. Men arrived & it was explained they were work colleagues from a nearby kebab house. They smiled at each other suggestively looking at me & talking in Arabic to one another. It came out they were actually Iranians not Persians.

I was asked if I was on the pill & other random questions. I began to feel very uncomfortable & was told to drink more. I kept saying I didn’t want to & the Christian, Sam, told them to leave me alone.

Bal began to tell me he had been meeting white girls on dating websites & made them suck his dick because they were white trash but I was different. He said I was beautiful & he wanted to marry me & give me a good life. He then went on to say for me to never get a tan as he likes ‘white’.

The things he was saying made me feel sick

Later on he left & locked the doors so I went to sleep. He came back ranting, saying he had a wife but hated her & wanted to kill her & marry me as in UK law he could only have one wife. The things he was saying made me feel sick. Dread kicked in as I knew I had found myself in a bad situation instead of a good one that could (have) been the means to an end.

I was just young, naive & desperate for help. I was given more drugs, told it was to help reduce my habit & any drug I wanted they could get. I lay on the bed in the next room & I fell into a drug induced sleep. I woke up feeling pressure on me from behind as I was asleep on my front.

I couldn’t move my hands as they were being held …

He pulled down my trousers & entered my behind. I screamed & writhed as much as I could. When he stopped he put his hands up saying OK OK baby. I felt sick & numb as if my brain was catching up with what had happened like it found it incomprehensible.

I stayed in that room thinking of ways to leave & what would happen next. It felt like hours passed by. I heard doors locking & closing. Sam came in and said they have gone for now. He promised me he was a real Christian & didn’t agree with them. He told me to go home to my family & to not come back to this area.

He opened the back door & I ran & ran. I jumped the train to my home town. I was spotted by police arrested & remanded in a Derbyshire woman’s jail.

It was a hard road but I became drug free. After the court hearing I was bailed to a Christian rehabilitation charity for women based in the Midlands. Here I made a great friend in a girl who was 23. She was forced into prostitution by Muslim men in Rochdale & had also escaped & was now clean from heroin. Together we helped each other through.

I got my son back & started a new life …

… got married & had more children.

Later on in life I went into a kebab house in the East Midlands with a friend & saw his face. I froze & he must (have) remembered me & asked about me because he found me on FB (Facebook). He messaged me saying, “baby why did u leave u must know I would find u”.

He talked as if I was property not a human …

… He found out where my Mum lived & added her on FB. After seeing this I told her he was someone from my past & she needs (to) block him. He sat waiting outside my Mum’s in his car, following me & saying he would shoot my husband. I threatened to tell authorities, blocked him & my family & I moved to another area of the Midlands.

It is now 10 years on. This is my story & the first time I have told it. This is why I joined the fight back.

I truly believe I am one of the lucky ones because I got away. I owe a lot of people my life & am happy that someone gave me a voice.

I am now a massive supporter of MARIAS.


(Note: Some minor editing of grammar and typos.)