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So, i've been putting this off writing this here, but its still spinning round in my head so i'm just going to put it down - this is after all what i intended using this space for.

A flashback from no-where, no mini one pre the biggie, just wham. I did mange to talk some of this through with my counselor (LA) this week.

The first part is my memories of the event, nothing censored - just how it was - the second part is some of the discussion that LA and I had around the event.

The abuse had been going on for about a year, so i was 10.
I went to the house as pre-arranged on the last visit - all three of them were there, and i dont know, there was a strange atmosphere, just something different. I wasn't really sure what to do as they didn't initiate anything - after a bit i decided to take my chances and leave (i got away with this sometimes if they were too pissed or stoned) - not today, he shouted at me to get in the room and dont fuck him about today.

So i overheard their conversations, and the one line that sticks in my mind was the doctor was coming to get rid of her baby - time passes and i am feeling really nervous, not sure what is going on, i've been shut in the room and then the secret doorbell rings. it must be the doctor.

I heard them all go upstairs, i sat in the room getting more and more anxious - after what seemed ages, the doctor went. Botht he men came into the room and he was carrying a balnket and he put it in my arms and said i needed to look after the baby - i sat there, with this blanket in my arms with a baby inside - i couldnt see the baby but i could feel it was heavier than just a blanket. I just remember sitting bolt upright. He told me i needed to feed the baby otherwise it would die, i just carried on sitting there holding it not knowing what to do. The other man took the baby off me and put it on the couch. He said again i needed to feed the baby, i kind of sort of knew that baby's sucked their mums boobs and they had milk in them, but was at a loss at what i was supposed to do. He came over and said lets see if you have any milk for the baby, he took my t shirt off and sucked my nipples for only a second or so and said i didnt have any milk for the baby - i remember being scared that i did have milk for the baby, i had no boobs at all at this age, completely flat chested. The thought of having milk coming out of my nipples scared the life out of me.

So, i was going to have to make some milk, i remember so clearly that they sort of said this in a helping me way and i needed to make the milk because the baby would die with out it. I kept looking over to the baby wrapped in the blanket on the couch. He tells me that there is only one way to make milk when you havent got any, that is i have to be good and swallow the stuff that comes out of the end of his willy - that helps make the milk, the more you swallow the more milk you make, if i was sick it wouldnt work and i wouldnt be able to make any milk for the baby.

So two rounds of oral sex followed with the constant reminder to swallow - i was gagging and retching but it was for the baby.
Straight after he sucked my nipples again but still no milk, i remember being somewhat confused that i had swallowed this stuff and it wasnt enough to make any milk and also scared about how many times i was going to have to swallow to make some milk.

I was sent home, maybe tomorrow if we do it again it might be enough for the baby.

I went home, kept thinking about the baby, i knew it would be hungry, i kept squeezing my nipples to see if any milk would come out, i remember thinking if some milk did come out in the night i would hqave to sneak out of home and go to his house to feed the baby.

No milk produced by morning, i went to school, i kept checking, still no milk. i got home from school and the day before they told me they wanted me there after tea. I remember not wanting to go, but also wanting to go because if i was good and did some more swallowing i could feed the baby - i went round early, the two men were sitting in the kitchen smoking and he smiled and said i was early, i said i come to see the baby - he laughed and said the baby was dead because i didnt feed it. I went in the room to look for it, it wasnt there, he said it died that morning and they buried it in a box in the garden because it was small, i remembered thinking it was small because i couldn't see it in the blanket, and remembered thinking of my dad burying a rabbit in our garden in a box and the baby was smaller than that.

I remember crying, i had killed the baby, i didnt feed it, it was my fault, the poor baby. He told me i didnt swallow enough stuff and maybe if i had been good and swallowed all the times before i might have had enough to feed the baby. The guilt was immense, i remembered all the times when i was sick, or when i spat it out, why didnt he tell me then it was for a baby, i would have tried to be good.

She was upstairs and she called me up, i was crying and she was lying in bed, she said did i know about the baby, i said i did, she confirmed to me all that i already knew and felt, she wouldnt forgive me for not feeding the baby and now its dead.

I cried and cried, i remember the funny feeling in my tummy, knowing what i had done. He told me i had better go - so i did, i didnt know what to do with myself, i had to stop crying at some point and i did, and i knew that the baby died, i had killed it, and i didnt mean to, but i was so sorry in my heart.

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So the next 25 years pass, and the minute details of the events fade, i dont process it, there is nothing to process, i knew i had killed a baby and that guilt and shame sat in the back of my locked away head for all these years, never spoken about, because why would i wanrt someone to know what i had done, knowing it was enough, i never thought about the actual incident, it was just the knowing that the baby had died.

So the flashback happened, full, vivd, near enough in 3D, it shook me to the core, how could this memory that i had buried so well be coming back to life, i knew i killed the baby, i didnt need to see a replay. It would have been somethin i never would have talked about, i dont think i would have told LA about it, it is just one of those situations that are buried deep, i know about it, but no need to air it.

2 days of this flashback, the guilt is mounting more and more - i had a counseling session, what do i do, do i cancel, do i try and just push it down as much as i can for the hour or do i tell her?
Two days of no sleep kind of gave it away i guess.
So we went through it - in more detail than i will write here, but this is the bones of it.

Did i actually see a baby? No
Did i feel the baby move, cry, wriggle? No
As an adult - does swallowing semen produce milk? No
Did the woman look preganant, did she have a bump? No
You remember them saying the doctor came to get rid of the baby - not deliver the baby.
Did they show you where the baby was buried? No
Why couldnt the woman feed the baby?
Couldnt they have gone to the shops to buy formula milk?

Okay......As adults reading this, you will have known there was no baby.

For 25 years i have believed there was baby, i killed it - fact.

LA is telling me that they lied to me, they did it to scare me, they did it so i would do what they wanted me to do, they did it so i would keep going back, there was no baby, it was all part of the manipulation, part of the grooming, part of anything to keep me there.

Now? I'm still processing it, i can logically see what LA is saying, and she is right - i think. How do you go from knowing something so true in your heart for 25 years to then discover it isn't true, there are other explanations - none of which are easy to accept.
It feels easier to know i killed the baby, i lived with that for 25 years and have accepted it.

I struggle with how did i not put this all together myself and come to this conclusion - after all, i do know that semen doesnt make milk! The answer is simple i know, but hard - it happeded to me as a child, it is what i believed as a child, i have never processed it as an adult, never put an adults perspective on to it, i've just always known the baby died and lock that memory away.

I keep having mini flashbacks of other times they reminded me of the baby, and then thinking LA has got it wrong, but i keep going back to the facts, and deep down its obvious - but its so hard to get my head around, i feel confused, i feel stupid, i dont feel free of the guilt? Shouldn't i feel elated?