I Don't Own Jac Naylor or any storylines.

The split second that Alan attacked me, I was transported back to when I was 12 years old. I had been in and out of care homes my whole life. This time I was a St Stephans orphanage in South Bristol. Growing up hadn't exactly been easy and I was the new girl all the time. Now was no different. The other children saw me as a target with my long red hair, freckles and no muscle whatsoever. And I was clever, not just smartish, a real brainbox which as every child knows, is not a good position to be in. And they made sure I knew it, constantly being shouted and hissed at.

"Ginger!"

"Eugh, look at them freckles!"

"Skinny little stick insect!"

"Swotty teachers pet!"

Not content with the verbal abuse, the girls pulled my hair and the boys hid my stuff. The social workers were no good either, they just thought it was me being difficult.

"It's just kids being kids, come on Jacqueline, try to make friends, don't be awkward."

Now, aswell as all this, I was growing up. Developing a figure, well as much of a figure you can get when you have wear a belt with size six jeans. Then of course the bullying got worse. Tormented for being flat chested and looking like a baby began to take its toll on me and I sought refuge in the chapel of the orphanage where the vicar listened to me cry and helped me by telling how The Lord would take pity on me. Everyday I would put up with a torrent of abuse, and the vicar soothed me.

However as my thirteenth birthday approached, I could sense things were different in the chapel. The vicar said I was more grown up and began to do wierd things, like say how I was blossoming into a beautiful lady, and look down my top more. I began to feel uneasy but staying in the chapel meant I could stay out of the bullies way.

It was a Tuesday when it happened. I knew this because it was a swimming day. Swimming day was the worst, I couldn't do and always have been scared of water. The other children preyed on this and would duck me under the water until I was desperate for air. Then when we got changed, the girls hid my clothes in the filthy toilets and laughed at how I had nothing to fill them out anyway. This Tuesday had been a particularly bad session and I trudged miserably back to the orphanage.

"Just you wait, little Jacqueline goody two-shoes Naylor, you're going to get it later!"

"Yeah Jackie Spackie we're gonna cut them ginger plaits of yours right off!"

The oldest girls, twins who were tall, broad and tough. They hated me the most and if they decided they didn't like someone then nobody liked them. Terrified, I ran back to to the chapel, sobbing. The vicar came out to see what all the noise was. After I hadtold him what had happened, he stroked my hair and read me some comforting passages. My hair was long and hung in two red plaits at the small of my back. He stroked all the way to my bum. I hadn't bothered to wear a bra after swimming as a was constantly reminded I had nothing to put in it and the others would have just have hidden it anyway. So my t-shirt was wet as we never had time to dry ourselves properly, and my hair was soaked, wetting the back of it. I began to shiver.

" Do you want to change your teeshirt, I have another one."

Nodding he lead me round into a room at the back of the chapel. I locked the door and began to to change. However, I di'nt notice the small peephole on the wall and it was only when I heard a muffled cough, I noticed a pair of eyes peering at me through a gap no bigger than a choclate bar. Doing what anyone would I screamed, but the chapel was a seperate building away from the others, hence why I went down there in the first place. The vicar charged in, breaking the door down, and ran over to me, holding his hands over my mouth.

" Don't you fucking make a sound!"

Frozen, I sat there, whilst he propped the door back up. He came back over to me and tied my hands behind my back and stuffed one of my plaits in my mouth. I could taste the chlorine mixed with salty tears.

"Don't pretend you don't want this you little slut, tormenting me the way you do. Asking for it wern't you!"

I shook my head and felt my face burn as he slapped me hard.

"Don't lie! You're going to get exactly what you asked for!"

He pushed me down and spread my legs. Undoing my belt and trousers, I began to sob more.

"Shut up Whore!"

I could sense impatience in his voice, as if he wanted this done quickly. Just then, I saw a way out, the evening mass started at five, and looking at a clock behind his head it was half past four already. I had to put him off. I spat my plait out of my mouth.

"Wait please, Why are you doing this, what have I done?"

"You know what you've done, girls like you deserve to be punished!"

"Wha-What do you mean like me?"

"Teasing, playing the victim. Oooohh, help me everyone is so horrible to me, I'm so upset! You're pathetic, you asked to be toughened up! Tempting me. You owe me Jackie!

The use of my name went through me like nails on a chalk board, and I flinched. He smirked at me and went back.

"But wait, please I didn't mean to do any of that, I'm sorry! Please I beg you!"

"Beg me?" The words threw him, and his face changed. "Prove it!"

"Whatever, please don't hurt me, please!"

He made me crawl to him, whilst reciting The Lords Prayer. I could feel my mouth dry up with fear and he hit me hard across the face, screaming at me. Once I got there I was to undo his trousers with my teeth. I hesitated and he hit me again. Just as I had got his trousers down, the door slammed forward and fell to the floor. The head social worker took one look at my tearstained face and the red mark that had appeared my face and screamed.

I was immediatly taken out, and shortly after I moved homes again, becoming the new girl again, only this time it was different, I was tougher. The vicar was right, I needed toughening up. I refused to let him be right about anything else. I wasn't pathetic, I wouldn't ever be again!

Coming round, I could see him leer over me, and I wasn't going to let it happen again. As I saw Lola appear I took my chance, kicked him right where he deserved it. I couldn't believe she had known all this time, setting me up like that. Well I had come out on top this time.

People still wonder why I am like I am. I am a doctor, yet I don't care.

But I know why.

That's why I'm Jac not Jackie or Jacqueline.

That's why men can't get close to me.

That's why I believe sex is a weapon.

That's why I don't believe in religion.

That's why I am like I am.

I won't be the victim

Again.