In October 2016, a horrific memory came up. My age had been fifty-one.

Throughout my life, I suffered depression. I grew up in a cramped cottage with warring parents and little money coming in. I naturally explained my problems to this.

Only this.

Without my realisation, an uncle once lived in my toddlerhood home. People scarcely mentioned him and I kept gleaning over this detail, thinking it irrelevant. My memory had been of his face rearing over me. I have now come to learn he raped me in my toddlerhood.

Between the age of 11 and 23, I kept a diary.

This diary has enabled me to establish assault sites in the village, for Uncle Dan took me out in the pushchair. He then committed horrific acts on deserted roadsides.

With these diaries, I have been able to journey into a past I didn't know existed.

My journey begins here.