This story contains mature or graphic content.
After I was helped up by the nice police man, he said, “Do you have any clothes you could put on?” I nodded. He held my hand as we went through the gangs of police officers. We went upstairs and into my small bedroom, and the man said, “I will let you get dressed.” I nodded and got into my jogging bottoms and a big jacket that goes below my knees. I walked out and the man escorted me toward the ambulance. I hesitated because it had a woman and a man paramedic. I was terrified. The police officer said, “Do you want me to come with you?” I nodded, and with him by my side, the paramedic took my blood pressure and sat me down on a bed; I was rushed to hospital.
I saw loads of doctors and nurses around me when I got to the hospital. I wouldn’t let them touch me at first. I said to them, “Get off me, don’t touch me …” Then I saw the police and social services outside. There was a doctor that was an absolute cow. She came over to me and said icily, “Are you going to let us treat you? You are hurt and we are trying to help you, so stop being so resistant.” A nurse (a man about thirty-two) approached her and I heard him say, “She has been raped and she has been beaten her for past few years by looks of her arm, so it’s no surprise she’s scared. Lay off and stop being a cow.” She walked out of the ED.
I was sitting up with my legs tucked up to my chest when I saw my father coming in. I got up from the bed, even though the doctors were trying to get me back in. My father came toward me; I was screaming, “No … get him away from me … no … go away!” The police came in and took him away. The man nurse who had a go at the bitchy doctor came over to me and said, “Did your father do this to you?” I nodded and he helped me onto the bed and I had to let them treat me. The doctors wouldn’t let the police talk to me until the morning because I needed to sleep.
To be continued …
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