McDonnell - Girl for sale: the truth from the girl trafficked and abused by Oxford sex ring

Contents

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Epub ISBN: 9781473501614
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Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road
London SW1V 2SA

Ebury Press is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

Copyright Lara McDonnell 2015

Lara McDonnell has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

First published by Ebury Press in 2015

www.eburypublishing.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9780091957810

To my son. I hope you understand how special you are.

This book is a work of non-fiction based on the life, experiences and recollections of the author. The names of people, places, dates, sequences or the details of events may have been changed to protect the privacy of others.

At the vulnerable age of 12, Lara McDonnell was picked out by a gang of men who befriended her, showered her with attention and gained her trust. Manipulated and groomed, her life quickly spiralled out of control as the men trafficked her around the country, deliberately keeping her compliant with drink and drugs. Deeply disturbed and frightened of what the gang would do to her if she tried to escape their evil clutches, it would take over five years for Lara to find the strength to fight back.

This is her heartbreaking story.

Following Laras horrifying ordeal, she found the strength to become a key witness in the trial of Britains most evil sex ring and has since rebuilt her life with her son and adoptive mother.

The shrill ringtone made me jump, even though I was expecting the text. I didnt have to read it; I knew the gist of what it said and who had sent it. As soon as I heard the noise and saw the screen of my phone light up my heart began to beat faster. Tension, anxiety and fear threatened to overwhelm me and I started to breathe faster as I reached for the handset.

B here in 10. Friends here.

Six short words. My instructions. I didnt need any more detail than what was written on the screen. The person who sent it was careful enough to be vague he didnt want to leave any evidence. I knew exactly what was required of me and I knew I couldnt refuse. I shivered and tried to calm myself; my head swam as I attempted to come to terms with what I was about to do.

I sat down on the pretty floral duvet cover on my bed and tried to pull myself together.

Youve done it before itll be over in a few hours. The drugs will help, I told myself.

I hugged my knees and rocked back and forth. My bedroom was warm and cosy. It should have been my sanctuary but there was nowhere I felt safe.

My bed was clean and comfortable. The bookshelf was full of my favourite stories and a sketch pad lay open on my desk. Bradley from the pop band S Club 7 gazed down at me from a poster on the wall. It was a typical young girls room but I was not a typical young girl.

The place I was being summoned to could not have been more different from the room I was leaving. The squalid flat was just a short walk away from the three-storey Victorian house I lived in but it might as well have been on another planet. It was a crack den. The drug fumes always stung my nostrils when I walked in. They smelled like burning plastic and they sparked a craving in me. The drugs numbed me. I knew that, as soon as those fumes filled my lungs, what followed the men and the abuse would be more bearable.

Downstairs my mum was cooking dinner. The smell of homemade casserole filled the house. But I had no appetite I hadnt eaten a proper meal in weeks. I started to work out how I was going to leave the house. I had no keys. Mum wouldnt allow me a set it was her way of trying to keep tabs on me. She was frantic with worry. I disappeared on an almost-daily basis and always after a text message. She didnt know the half of what was going on; she didnt know about the drugs and the men and I wasnt about to tell her.

I was ashamed and I was also scared. How had I let myself get into the position I was in? My life was a complete mess. I didnt know who I could trust or who my friends were; all I knew was that, as soon as the texts came through, I needed to get out.

The man who sent them called it work. It was my job. I belonged to him and I did what he told me to do. He gave me alcohol and a constant supply of drugs; in return I did as I was told. I was there to service his customers.

It hadnt always been that way. Once, I believed I could trust him. I believed he was my friend but, increasingly, he terrified me. I knew that if I refused what he asked then he would hunt me down and he would hurt me. It made no difference to him whether the police or social workers knew. As far as he was concerned, they couldnt do anything.

I reached under my bed and felt around for the screwdriver I used for breaking the lock on the window. My hands were shaking as I wedged it between the window and the frame and popped open the catch that held it shut. Slowly I pushed the window open. Mum was still cooking downstairs. The sound of the crockery and the fan on the oven masked the sound of the window sliding open. I had broken out many times before and nimbly climbed through the open space, onto the security light outside and jumped down into the garden.

As I did so the light came on. I saw Mum look up and stare out of the kitchen window.

Lara! she cried. Where are you going?

But I was gone. There was no way she was going to stop me. It was dark and the cold night air hit me as I ran off. I was wearing only a hoodie and a pair of jeans. Other clothes would be provided for me where I was going. I would be made to wear the tarty underwear the men insisted on. The thought of it made my skin crawl but I didnt have a choice.

My phone trilled again. I glanced at the screen as I ran over the bridge. The spires of Oxford University shone in the distance.

Where r u?

On the way, I texted back hurriedly.

I rounded the corner of the estate and a gang of menacing-looking teenagers loitering there eyed me suspiciously. As I hurried past they said nothing.

The door was open when I arrived and I walked into the dirty main room. A stained sofa was placed in the middle of the room in front of a widescreen TV. The air was thick with crack fumes. Mohammed was waiting.

Where the fuck have you been? he hissed, his eyes dark and bloodshot.

I I I had to get out of the house, I stuttered.

He nodded towards the small, cluttered bedroom.

Get in there and get that lot on, he ordered. Through the door I could see underwear laid out on the bed. It was cheap and tacky adult lingerie.