Chapter 1

To understand why I am so readily placing myself in my neighbour’s thrall, I should firstly explain how I arrived at this point in my life.

Even to this day, the ‘alternative lifestyle’ commune into which I was born, and where I spent my early childhood, is repeatedly portrayed as home to a bunch of religious fanatics responsible for all sorts of wicked transgressions. I can’t speak for those currently living there, but my own recollections of life in the commune are entirely different from the nonsense spouted by the hysterical bigots who have made it their mission in life to have the commune closed down. Repeated claims that children living at the commune are systematically abused and sexually assaulted have never been substantiated. My own experience suggests that the accusations of impropriety are baseless. It must have come as a great disappointment to the bigots when the eight teenage girls removed from the commune ten years ago all turned out to be perfectly healthy virgins.

My early life in the commune is a collection of hazy but pleasant memories. I haven’t seen or heard from my parents since I was thirteen years old. After the state authorities removed me and seventeen other children from our parents’ care, we were prohibited from contacting them, or anyone else connected with the commune. Even when I turned eighteen, and I was released from the controlling influence of the state, I was sent on my way with a stern warning to keep the commune and my parents at a distance. Rightly or wrongly, I have obeyed the advice of my state appointed guardians, since that is what my strict upbringing has taught me to do. Nevertheless, to me, the commune was a happy place that isolated itself from the corruption and violence of the outside world.

That’s not to say that my life in the commune was easy. Far from it. Discipline and hard work was the commune’s mantra. The commune’s leaders created and imposed strict rules on those living in their community. But to call any of them religious fanatics is wrong. Religion played no greater part in the commune’s lifestyle than it does anywhere else in the modern day western world.

As I said, my life in the commune came to an abrupt end ten years ago, when the police invaded the commune and took twelve girls and six boys from our parents. We were all made wards of the state. Nobody cared about the trauma that such a move created for us or our parents. Although some of us were put in foster homes, I and five other girls were packed off to a privately run orphanage called Sunnybridge. The regime there was also one of discipline and hard work, although I felt considerably less safe at Sunnybridge than I did in the commune. The six of us were constantly being examined by medics and psychiatrists who never revealed why we were such fascinating subjects. One by one the other girls from the commune reached eighteen and were released from the orphanage. Eventually, I was the only one from our group left at Sunnybridge.

Had Tom not lived at Sunnybridge, I’m unsure whether I could have survived the harsh regime until I reached eighteen. He was the son of one of the administrators, who lived in Sunnybridge’s staff quarters. Tom had considerably more freedom of movement than any of Sunnybridge’s inmates. He shamelessly used his privileges to his benefit. He flirted with all of the Sunnybridge girls in his age group. The extra treats he could supply made him a popular visitor to the older girls’ common room. He rarely favoured one girl over another and he constantly referred to us his harem.