Taken up to Peter Wright's room - had my clothes taken off and was 'ridden like a blow-up doll'. There was a strong element of disgust seeing the sperm.... huge amount of entering in / initiation. I had a sense of having accidentally broken something that you like - now had to pick myself up and make myself whole; when they left I was 'in an altered state' - hadn't managed to put the pieces back together. Whilst I was on the way back from the room I was spotted by the matron who said 'I know what you've been doing, you dirty little boy'. Which caused me to define myself as that; I changed - I split off part of myself; I was really grown up - at 11 I did stuff that only grown ups did. It didn't particularly matter that it was horrible - it gave me a sense of status and making choices. I didn't tell my abuser that I had been spotted by the matron.

The whole thing was minimised, contained, encapusulated. I'm not worth anything anyway, so I might as well do what he says. He seems to really like me. Somehow I got comfortable with it - though I don't know how I got there - he was a fat ugly guy... Fear was the driving emotion; I had to do what he said but also hero worship - kids look up to people.

I didn't question it - it just happened. That authority that was so abusive did have an undercurrent of pleasure; I was comfortable after a while with being his sex toy.

He never said 'don't tell anyone' - he just knew that I wouldn't; I was completely controlled by this man - but I felt betrayed when I discovered that there were other sexual partners. It made me feel rejected again and I got resentful of that; I gave myself to him, but he went off with other boys. Betrayed and I was glad when he got caught because he hadn't honoured the commitment I felt he had made to me.

My abuser got caught when the matron called in the headmaster and he got caught. However when the ballon went up and the parents were called in, when I asked by my father whether anything inappropriate had ever happened, I said 'no'. I was no longer connected to the truth - this was a decision I made; there was nothing for me to gain by shopping this guy, but also a fear that I could incriminate myself; if I was a bad boy, I definitely wanted to be a bad boy in secret.

If things go the wrong way, the unconditional love for your parents becomes a reason for protecting the parents from the knowledge they don't hear.

I lived for 30 years of my life without acknowledging that I was a victim. I lost my innocence; I had a truncated childhood. I became disoriented about intimacy and sexuality - most of my pleasure was from taking drugs; developed a pattern of disengaging emotionally - sex became disconnected from relationship. I could have chosen heroin addiction as a route to oblivion - and this would have been to escape the legacy of the abuse. It's scary that it's still bringing up waves of emotion (even now)

The CPS refused to prosecute the case for lack of evidence that could be sustained in court.

I'm getting better. I can say 'I hope you guys can look at yourselves in the mirror and realise what you've done'. I'm on the road to forgiveness.