I Never Gave My Consent

by Holly Archer

  I pushed the door open to see Kev walking out of the deserted kitchen, his hands full of vegetables. I couldn’t help but detest him in that moment. I’d been in that horrible bedroom, having sex with those horrible men, and he’d been in the kitchen, stealing vegetables.

  I think that was the first time I felt like I really, really hated him.

  I was still in lots of pain as we drove home and, as he dropped me at the end of my road, I noticed it was almost ten o’clock. He tossed some notes in my direction, but for the first time I didn’t really care how much he’d given me. I wasn’t sure I believed they’d only paid half price, but I wasn’t even that bothered. The money didn’t really mean anything now because, whatever I bought with it, Mum would notice. I’d just hide it under my floorboard with the rest of the cash.

  ‘Holly!’ Mum called, as I walked through the front door. ‘Have you done your homework? You’re in a bit late, are you not?’

  I mumbled an excuse about losing track of time because my phone battery had died. I went straight to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t look any different to how I had done just a few months earlier, yet I was different. Very different. I was a slag now, or so I thought. No one would ever think of me as being anything else and I’d never be able to escape this. I’d just have to accept it. It was all my fault – for being greedy and taking Mr Khan’s money and takeaways and dreaming of making £17,000.

  It seemed so silly now. I was petrified Mum would spot a few twenty-pound notes I’d hidden under a floorboard in my room. How the hell would I hide £17,000 from her? I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head but I was still feeling uncomfortable and it made it hard to sleep.

  The next day dawned and I headed to school as usual. It was a strange feeling. Most teenagers would be counting down the minutes until home time, desperate to be free of classes and teachers. I, on the other hand, wished the day would last forever. As I sat in my IT class, the last class of the day, I could feel the horrible knot of dread tightening in my stomach, as I knew it would soon be time to see Mr Khan.

  I grew to hate the sound of the shrill school bell. As it rang out that day, I wearily picked up my books, one by one, wondering just how long I could postpone the worst part of my day.

  ‘We’re going to head into town and have a look around the shops,’ Jenny said. ‘Do you fancy coming?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t,’ I said. ‘I have to look after Amy. And then I’m seeing Carly. Sorry.’

  Jenny shrugged. ‘OK. See you tomorrow.’

  As she and my other friend, Joanne, walked down the stairs of the English block, arm in arm, my heart ached. I longed to go shopping with them, to look at clothes I previously couldn’t have afforded. The irony was, I now had so many notes stashed under my floorboard that I probably could have afforded a nice new top, or a pair of shoes. I just didn’t have the time, or the energy, to go looking for them.

  I managed to walk home that night before my phone buzzed with the inevitable call from Mr Khan. I quickly changed out of my school uniform into some loose-fitting linen trousers. Somehow it always seemed much worse being with him while I was wearing my uniform.

  I met him on the main road and he drove out to the Wrekin, where we parked up in a secluded part of the car park, in a little lay-by, away from the other vehicles.

  ‘I will fuck you now,’ he said, evil burning in his horrible eyes.

  ‘You can’t today,’ I began, nervously. ‘I’m on my period.’

  It was like he hadn’t heard me. ‘You fuck me,’ he said, ‘or I will set your house on fire.’

  I shook my head, desperately. ‘But, no, you don’t get it. I can’t. I’ve got my period.’

  Mr Khan just looked at me for a few seconds, drumming his long fingers on the steering wheel. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. It always made me anxious when he threatened my family. Now he was saying he wanted to set my house on fire and I believed he was capable of it. But what could I do? I didn’t even have any of the little sponges Kev had given me the night before.

  Eventually, he said, ‘Prove it.’

  ‘Prove it?’ I echoed. ‘But how? I’m on my period, I promise you.’

  He shook his head and let out a callous chuckle. ‘You lying bitch. Prove it.’

  I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there, panic-stricken, frozen to the seat. Mr Khan reached over and yanked at my hair, pulling it so hard I let out a little yelp. Then he grabbed hold of my waist and turned my body round to face him. Without a word, he shoved his hand into my knickers and his sneering expression changed in an instant. As he pulled it back, it was covered in blood. My blood. He looked utterly disgusted.

  ‘Dirty bitch!’ he hollered. ‘You fucking whore, you dirty bitch!’

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. ‘I tried to tell you,’ I said, softly.

  ‘You fucking bitch, you whore!’ he said, again. ‘Dirty fucking bitch. Get out.’

  He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open and practically shoved me onto the stony ground below. I stumbled, but I just managed to regain my balance as I got out. Mr Khan was furiously wiping his bloodstained hand on the seat, the look of disgust still etched on his face. I thought he was going to ask me to go and find something for him to clean it with properly, though what he’d suggest I didn’t know, as we were in the middle of nowhere, miles from any shops, and I didn’t have any tissues on me.

  But before I could get my bearings, he sped off, his Nissan tearing off into the distance. I stood there for a few seconds, naively convinced he would come back.

  It must have been a minute or so before I realised he had no intention of returning for me. He’d dumped me again, but this time I’d done nothing. I’d simply had the audacity to have my period.

  By now, it was autumn and the nights were getting longer. The sun had already started to set over the big hill and I felt a little scared as I realised I’d have to make my own way back home in the twilight. It would take nearly an hour, by which time it would be pitch-black.

  It was then the tears came. I hadn’t cried properly in ages, because I’d just been so numb, but now I was scared. Really scared. I was in the middle of the wilderness, completely alone. Anyone could hurt me here and no one would hear my cries. Salty tears splashed down my face and onto my neck and I realised I had no choice but to start walking.

  As I trudged along the grassy path, I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. This was it now. This was my life. I was at the beck and call of these horrible men and they’d abandon me without a second’s notice. I had no control over them, no control over anything.

  As I sobbed softly, the cool October air on my wet face, my phone started to ring. It was Beaver, the man who’d showed me his bits just a few yards from where Mr Khan had dumped me. Although he called often, I could never really understand a word he said. His accent was so thick and he barely knew a word of English.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, trying to disguise the despair in my voice.

  Beaver started to speak and I was pleasantly surprised. His English was far from perfect but it had improved loads since the night I’d met him.

  ‘Come and meet me now?’ he asked.

  Suddenly I had a brainwave. ‘I can meet you now if you like,’ I said. ‘But you’ll have to come and pick me up.’

  10

  Beaver

  I was standing by the roadside, about half a mile from the Wrekin, when Beaver drew up in his car. I suppose I should have maybe been a little wary – he’d already exposed himself to me, after all – but I was so relieved that I didn’t have to walk all the way home that I just jumped in. He was playing Asian music on the radio and he smiled, exposing his distinctive teeth, as I slid into the passenger seat.

  ‘Hello, Holly,’ he said. I nodded by way of response. It had only been a few months since we’d first met but so much had happened that it felt like years had passed. The car was warm
and, on the back seat, there was a pile of takeaway pizzas. Beaver had obviously found a job as a delivery driver.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a text to Mum, telling her I was going to Carly’s for dinner. She texted back, saying something about how I’d been out a lot that week already and shouldn’t I come home for once? But I just ignored it. I imagined Phil had been kicking off again about how I was never in and I couldn’t deal with the hassle.

  I expected Beaver to drive me back to Telford, so I was surprised when he turned the car back in the direction of the Wrekin. Maybe I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. For some reason I felt weirdly safe with him. He just seemed a bit bashful and silly. I didn’t think he could really do me any harm and I was just glad not to be walking home alone in the dark.

  Beaver parked up and, in his broken English, asked where I’d been and who I’d been with. For a moment I thought I might cry again, as I described Mr Khan and how he’d abandoned me, but I managed to hold it together.

  ‘He has sex with me,’ I said. ‘Nearly every day. And I don’t like it.’

  I said the words slowly, hoping Beaver would understand what I meant. It sounds strange now, but I couldn’t bring myself to use the word rape, because I still didn’t feel like a victim. I still blamed myself for what was happening because I’d taken Mr Khan’s money and allowed him to buy me a few takeaways. It would be a long, long time before I’d be able to accept that he was abusing me, even though I hated every minute I spent with him.

  Beaver shook his head. ‘Stay with me,’ he said. ‘Don’t see him.’

  I let out a sad little laugh – if only it were that easy, but Beaver looked so earnest that it seemed almost sweet. He told me that he would protect me, that I could call him instead of going with Mr Khan, and for a moment I really wanted to believe he could save me from all of these horrible men. I didn’t give much thought to the fact that he was married, and way older than me. I was desperate for something, anything that could keep Mr Khan away from me, even if only for a short while.

  ‘Come with me,’ Beaver said. He gestured to the pizzas in the back and I realised he wanted me to accompany him on his deliveries. I couldn’t face going home and getting a row from Mum, for staying out so much, so I agreed.

  For the rest of the evening, we drove around Telford together. We tried to chat a bit and I was surprised by how we could make ourselves understood to one another, despite the language barrier. I didn’t feel attracted to Beaver – not in the slightest – but he did make me laugh. He kept pointing to things and saying the word in Urdu, asking me to tell him the English version. I felt a bit sorry for him. He told me his wife didn’t really understand him and they fought a lot. I figured he was maybe just a bit lonely.

  As he dropped me at the end of my road, he told me not to meet Mr Khan anymore. He told me I could phone him whenever I needed anything.

  ‘He is horrible,’ he said. ‘You stay with me.’

  For the first time in weeks, I felt like something good had happened to me. At last I had someone looking out for me, and he didn’t seem to want anything in return.

  Avoiding Mr Khan was easier said than done, though. Every time I thought about cancelling his calls, his threats rang in my ears. At night, I’d often wake up covered in cold sweat, dreaming he’d set the house on fire, like he promised. The dream was so vivid I could see the flames and taste the thick, black smoke. Other nights, I’d imagine him coming for Mum and Lauren and Amy, dragging them screaming from their beds and then doing to them what he’d done to me. So, most nights I’d meet him after school, and most nights he’d have sex with me, even though he knew there were a hundred places I’d rather have been than lying on the back seat of his Nissan, legs akimbo.

  Plus, I still had Kev and all the men he’d lined up for me, and that took up at least a couple of nights a week. I still saw the Chinese man in the posh house every Tuesday while his wife was out, and the really old Chinese man was now a regular, too. He’d started having sex with me, but he didn’t last very long and he wasn’t very big, so it was bearable. I’d have had sex with him a hundred times if it meant skipping just one day with Mr Khan.

  The money was starting to make me feel weird, though. There was never as much of it as I expected, certainly nothing like £17,000. If I took any length of time at all, Kev would take money from my cut. One night, we had to drive to a takeaway a few towns away and he charged me for petrol. This pissed me off because of course it was Kev who arranged all of these meetings, not me. But I didn’t protest too much, because the notes just got stuffed under the floorboard and forgotten about. Even looking at the money made me feel dirty and I tried to get rid of it in any way I could.

  Carly loved it because I was always trying to palm my cash off onto her. On one of our rare shopping trips, she saw a top she liked in New Look and I bought it for her, straight away, without even thinking. It was thirty quid, which would have been a fortune to me before I’d met Kev. Now it was the perfect way to get rid of some of my sordid earnings.

  ‘Wow!’ Carly said. ‘Thanks, Holly. That’s amazing. I can’t believe you just bought me that.’

  I shrugged. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said.

  I also bought us loads of sweets and crisps and fizzy drinks. I often wasn’t in the mood to eat, but Carly always was. By now, she was struggling to fit into her size 18 jeans and we weren’t yet fifteen. Rolls of fat escaped from under her T-shirts, and even walking up the hill to the phone box would leave her breathless and red-faced.

  ‘I wish I could buy all of the stuff you buy,’ she said, as she unwrapped a king-size Mars bar I’d just bought her, before taking a huge swig of sugary Coke. We were sitting on a wall, legs dangling above the ground. ‘Why doesn’t Kev ever ask me to do it?’

  I tried hard to stifle a sigh. It wasn’t the first time I wished I’d been overweight like Carly. Perhaps then Kev and Mr Khan would never have looked at me and none of this would be happening.

  ‘It’s not that much fun, Carls,’ I said. ‘You’re not missing much. And he gives me shit money now anyway. He takes the piss.’

  Carly looked at me, eyes wide. ‘Don’t you like it anymore?’

  I shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ I replied, eyes to the ground.

  ‘You said it was easy,’ she said. ‘You said it only lasted a few minutes and then it was done and you got money.’

  ‘Well, sometimes it’s a bit longer than that,’ I answered, desperate to change the subject.

  ‘But, still,’ Carly said. ‘You still get money. You can buy whatever you want.’

  ‘Just leave it,’ I snapped. ‘I don’t want to talk about it twenty-four hours a day. I just do it and that’s that. It’s not a big deal.’

  Carly took another big glug of her drink. ‘Fine. No need to bite my head off. I was only asking.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Anyway, do you want to come for a drive with this guy who delivers pizzas?’

  Carly looked confused. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Oh, just this guy,’ I shrugged. ‘He’s cool, though. But he looks like a beaver.’

  The corners of Carly’s mouth twitched a little and soon we’d both started laughing. ‘A beaver?’ she chuckled. ‘Like, really?’

  I nodded. ‘Really like a beaver.’

  For the first time in months, we dissolved into fits of uncontrollable giggles. It was only when we stopped that I realised I hadn’t laughed like that in ages.

  ‘You can’t call him Beaver, Carly,’ I said. ‘Like, you really can’t. Don’t actually say it to his face.’

  As if on cue, Beaver’s car slid into view. I opened the door and climbed in the front, while Carly stepped into the back next to the big pile of pizzas.

  ‘Hey, Beaver,’ she said. ‘I’m Carly. Holly’s friend.’

  I held the sleeve of my jacket over my mouth so Beaver wouldn’t see me giggling, but I think the joke was lost on him.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘What’s so funny?’

/>   I couldn’t look at Carly because I knew I’d never be able to stop laughing if I did. For the rest of the evening, we drove around with Beaver as he delivered pizzas all over town. He was playing his Pakistani music really loud, and Carly and I thought it would be funny to make him dance.

  ‘Just do it,’ Carly said, raising her hands and wiggling her hips. She looked like a reject from a bad Bollywood movie and I nearly wet myself laughing. ‘Do this, Beaver.’

  ‘Why your friend call me this?’ he asked me, bemused. ‘Why she call me Beaver?’

  I giggled again. ‘She’s just a bit confused.’

  Eventually Carly managed to persuade him to dance for us and he was even funnier than she was. He looked so awkward as he bobbed his head to the music and swung his flailing arms in the air. I was laughing so much I could barely breathe.

  At the end of the night, he went back to the pizza shop and told us to wait in the car. After about five minutes, he brought out a huge cheese and tomato pizza for us to share.

  ‘Wow!’ Carly said. ‘This is brilliant!’

  From then on, I saw Beaver a couple of times a week. Most of the time Carly came too, but sometimes it was just us. I could only see him when Kev’s schedule allowed, but thankfully I usually had a few free nights. It was the only time outside of school that I could have a laugh and not think about all the other things going on in my life.

  We had some really funny times with Beaver. Mainly it was just Carly and me taking the piss out of him, which I did feel a bit bad about, but it was hilarious. One night, he was delivering a pizza to a house on the street where the phone box was, and he left the car facing down the hill, with the keys in the ignition. Just as he came out of the house, I let the handbrake off and the car started rolling down the street. Carly and I were in fits of laughter as he chased after us in a complete blind panic. He managed to jump into the front seat and slam on the brakes just in time. He told us how dangerous it was, but we didn’t really grasp the gravity of the situation. Another night, a few weeks later, I opened the car door as he was going round a really busy roundabout, near to where you join the M54. Carly and I thought it was really funny, but Beaver was very angry.