June 10th 1996
Its been a while since the last entry as I have been working on project deadlines, revising and taking stock of my whole living situation. Last minute I decided to move back in to No.10 to get out of Harry and Ruth’s way. I still paid rent here and seeing as they both do a ridiculous maths degree it felt unfair to burden them with a soon to be finished language student when they were still in the thick of some god awful exams.
It took a bit of courage and a couple of sleepless nights but I was doing well. I was quite contented back in my little room with Rick Witter and Jarvis staring down at me. I was enjoying listening to my choice of CD, having continuous access to my wardrobe and, to top it all, the housemates were being uncharacteristically pleasant.
All was going ok when, a couple of mornings ago, I was lying in bed listening to the new Manic’s album,putting off any revision and watching the sun streaming through the window. Suddenly, I heard the bedroom door rattling, followed by someone trying a key.
My initial and most obvious thought was that it was the landlord having a nosey thinking I was still away. Still, I jumped out of bed and grabbed my hairdryer, not to pretend it was a gun (!) but because it was the heaviest object to hand.
The door flew open and it was Him.
The look on His face was priceless, He obviously didn’t expect to see me. But He soon composed himself.
“Oh you are here,” He said, looking through me. His physical presence and His lack of emotion unnerved me completely. Suddenly, I was very, very scared.
As if to confirm the fear He elbowed passed me and started rampaging through my belongings, tearing through my newly organised room with venom. I just watched Him, like a stupid idiot I just mutely watched Him ransack my life, again. He was like a man possessed, I became a cowering wreck, ashamed to feel so scared of someone who once meant so much to me.
After what felt like a pathetic eternity but was probably only about 3 minutes, He pulled this battered, treasured tome from beneath my bed. He stood there, without any shame, and just leafed through my most personal thoughts and experiences. I was too stunned and weak to stop Him.
“So this is what you have been busy doing? I have failed my degree because of YOU!!!”
I honestly thought that he was going to hit me across the face as He was so enraged but, He took stock, threw the book on the floor and stomped dramatically down the stairs. I cautiously watched Him go and with one final victorious glance over His shoulder He ripped the phone from the wall and took it with Him in His pocket.
I was in a state of complete disbelief, which still resonates now. My automatic reaction to such a violation was to get out of there. I was petrified of His return. I grabbed my essentials and ran to the nearest phone box and called the only person that made sense at that hideous moment in time…….Ben.
Thankfully he answered and stumbled to get me in a hungover daze. I escaped to the safety of his single bed where I cried for Wales whilst he made me cups of tea and shared his cigarettes.
What now? I really don’t know.
I am furious because I was recovering from all of this. I had regained my sense of self. I was beginning to feel strong. All that has now gone to dust. I wish our paths had never crossed.
Back to square one.