Juvenile Delinquent

I have gone on and on and bored everyone silly saying how I went bad after being sexually abused by the deputy head of my school as a ten year old.
I hope that now we all know each other and there is some degree of trust between us I can share exactly how I changed and what form the evil took.
I was a popular kid at my primary school. I did not consciously know that until some classroom activity made it evident. We had to list our friends and it turned out that I was number two in the popularity charts, as everyone listed me as their friend. I remember being surprised and a little embarrassed at this, but it made me feel good.
But then the abuse started, during my last year at that school (and for the first term at my next school while I was still in his dance group). I can now see that when I went up to my next school I was a very different person.
All I consciously remember about that period was walking down the Gothic school corridors and thinking I was in Tom Brown’s schooldays. But I was determined that nobody, especially my parents, would know how much I hated it there. I recall thinking, I will get through this, it will be like holding my breath and swimming underwater. An endurance test. I now see that I was displaying symptoms of depression and alienation.
I was determined that nobody would see me as weak so I constantly got into fights. I remember another boy pinching my bag of sweets (milk bottles) and throwing myself on him and punching the hell out of him till dragged off. Boys marvelled that I was an animal. But I wasn’t top dog and soon met my match. I wasn’t fearless, I knew deep inside that I was scared.
But moreover I wasn’t likeable any more. Other kids picked up on my insecurity and all round oddness and I became one of the least popular kids in school.
By the age of 12 I was in a clandestine, unhealthy sexual relationship with the other victim. This did little for my self esteem. I thought the other boys were right to hate me.
Then I started playing truant. Thieving from shops. Soon I was hunting down cannabis.
But I was getting better at faking normality. I gained a kind of notoriety as mad, inspired and dangerous. When an art teacher told me I was gifted, I remember saying how much I loved school and how I’d miss it when I left. I was, of course, lying. But the fool believed me.
I was so adept at deception that I was rarely caught out. Friends were suspended or expelled, while I for the most part had an unblemished record. It was as if I were a double agent. Indeed at one time the head of the local drug squad, (a mason chum of my dad’s) wanted me to find out who was supplying drugs at school. I went scurrying to report this to the headmaster. Everyone praised me. No one guessed.
My sexuality was the talk around the school. I was, they said, a rent boy. I remember losing my temper when asked if that was true. It came too close to unmasking me.
At the age of 14 (or maybe 15) I noticed that an English teacher had the hots for me. So I became a boy like Lolita and pouted and gave off sexual vibes whenever he was near. I didn’t want him sexually, I just enjoyed making him stammer, blush and generally feel uncomfortable. It was a power trip. He resisted my charms, a lesser man would not have.
So there you have it. A devious, self loathing brat. Instead of self harming, I took to writing poetry. I cannot categorically say that I would not have grown up warped anyway. In my defence, I note that the time of abuse is when I started going wrong, at least three years before puberty.
It would take a large dose of LSD to change me again. But that’s another story.
Being honest about this stuff is I hope helpful to me, as I learn to accept the full picture of who I am. But I hope it is also useful to others by illustrating that childhood sexual abuse does not just leave nasty memories, it changes you almost beyond recognition.


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