The Grandfather.

His name was John but everyone called him Jack. He used to look after us (myself and my sister) during the school holidays while my mum worked. He was a quiet man who never talked too much or even seemed to show much emotion. He was a hard worker and his body showed the years he had spent in physical labour. He smoked regularly and would sweat a lot in the hot weather. We were never close. We remember having to give him a kiss hello and goodbye on the cheek, but other than that I do not recall any affection at all. He lived with his wife, (my Nana), the Matriarch of the family, in a house surrounded by almond tress. 180 if I remember correctly. We spent much of our childhood either helping with the harvest of the almonds, or playing amongst the sour sobs that grew below the trees in winter. There was plenty of open space to play and hide.
Every one seemed to love him. He was quiet and gentle and I don't ever recall him raising his voice. The family always said "he has the patience of a saint" as he used to calmly deal with life and family.
We used to call the grandfather 'Papa", but we cant say it now...not with out much effort. He was all the things I have said above, but he was also much more. When we were 8 years old, he held us down by our wrists on the boot of his car, and with anger I did not often see in him, He Raped us. He seemed angry, he was forceful and it hurt. He went right inside us, hard and pumping. And when he stopped we got down from the back of the car and quietly went away. We felt so much shame, but he didn't seem to care. I hate him for it. He used to push some strange object in to my skin, so it hurt. It was made of wood but had sharp metal ends that would burn. This was not the only time he hurt us.
My name is Claire, I am 8 years old and this is my story.

Melanie's story

This is a video we made with the help of a friend of ours. One of our insiders is called Melanie, she is 9 years old and this is about some of the abuse she suffered at the hands of friends of the family who looked after her during school holidays and before and after school.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yckRRqPxU4

The Story Behind the Video

In this small sleepy beach community in South Australia her world was turned upside down. While staying there with friends of the family, she was placed in a cage with another girl aged 12. Her name was Michelle Mitchell. They were kept in this cage until the man came for them. He would sexually and physically abuse them and then put them back in the cage when he was finished. We don’t know how long this went on for or how many times it happened. One night Melanie escaped and ran down the beach to hide behind the bridge that leads to the town. She desperately clung to the side of the bridge hoping that her mother would come to her rescue and save her from what had been happening. She didn't.  Instead the man found her and hit her across the head for running away.  He put her back in the cage with Michelle.

Melanie remembers Michelle being shot and dying in that cage. Michelle's blood crept over the cement floor towards her. As Melanie huddles in the corner of the black metal cage, trying to stay away from Michelle’s blood, all she wants to do is curl up and die too, so this will all end.

To Melanie, the blood that we shed when we self-harm tells the truth of what happened to her and Michelle.

Under the bridge runs a river/creek going out to the sea. Richard pushed Melanie into the river. He told her he hated her and wanted her to die. He pushed her head down under the water and held her there about 5 or 6 times. She was gasping for breath. Eventually he pulled her out of the water. She was crying, he said “shut up bitch”. Someone else inside our system took the emotion for her and she stopped crying. She collapsed exhausted on the sand. She lay there for a while trying to get her breath back. He took her back to the shack. He tied her hands to the back of a chair so she was facing it and bending over the front of the chair. He pulled out a cane, and whipped her bottom again and again. He had no compassion. It hurt.

In the Arms of an Angel

This movie is made for the part of us that had to endure being sold for sex at 8 years old. She spent nights alone in hotel rooms with strangers.

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8Q9-RGqwhk&list=HL1383564804&feature=mh_lolz