I Know What You Are by Taylor Edison

Author:Taylor Edison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-12-12T16:00:00+00:00

I was 13 when I started going round to Hanif’s house. I chose to go there – as much as I ‘chose’ to do anything – because he gave me vodka and because he didn’t like the other guys and didn’t have much to do with them. So it was always only him and me. That might have been a good thing, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was an alcoholic and very violent. In the past, I would have hooked up with someone like Hanif because they fed me. But whereas I had only just set out on the road towards alcoholism, he was a good deal further along it and would never have dreamed of spending money on food that could be spent on drink. Despite the way he treated me though, I kept going back. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was because it made me feel that I did have some choice. Or perhaps it simply saved me the effort of self-harming.

Hanif would hold me by the throat, pinning me up against a wall, and then have sex with me so violently that my hips would be covered in bruises. I don’t think it was violence for its own sake. For me, it was a chance to unleash some of the aggression that was locked away inside me and that I could only release when I was drunk. For Hanif, I think it was all part of a sexual game, particularly when I was drunk and fought back. He could be vicious if I ever actually hurt him though, and on one occasion, after I had given him a bloody nose, he bashed my head on a table so hard I thought I was going to pass out.

One of Hanif’s worst tricks was to shut me in the bathroom and lock the door from the outside. There were no windows in his bathroom and the ceiling light was broken. So when the door was closed, it was completely dark in there. I had always been a bit afraid of the dark as a child, and since the Polish guy had tried to rape me, I had become terrified of it. It was the fact that being locked in the bathroom made me panic that was the whole point for Hanif. As soon as he let me out, he would have sex with me, while I was still hysterical and trying to push him away, because having to fight me to get what he wanted turned him on.

It’s difficult to explain why I always went back to Hanif’s house, despite all the negative aspects of my association with him and however brutal or unkind he was to me. In a strange way, it was almost pleasant to be with someone who was overtly violent. At least everything was out in the open and I knew where I stood, which was preferable, in some ways, to the confusion and bewilderment I always felt when I

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