All we really need is love

Did an early, late, sleep shift at a home I’ve been working at for some time, and was warned ahead that they had a new placement there; a vulnerable CSE girl (one whom has suffered from child sexual exploitation).  She was sixteen, but was tiny and looked all of thirteen really, and was so damaged by her experiences: raped by members of her family and even prostituted out for a while against her will, you could clearly see it etched on her pinched little face.  She was an engaging, likeable kid, but had already attempted suicide by running into busy traffic, so we had to keep an eye on her at all times.  She talked openly about her life history; abandoned by her mother as a toddler, she was for a time brought up by various family members, and the abuse both sexual and physical was constant; and even when she found herself a boyfriend in Birmingham, he pimped her out to the Asian gang network there.  One of the carers took her to the doctors to register her there and to talk over her problems, and when she came back she was in floods of tears – she had requested a female doctor, but it was a man, and that was just not what she needed just then.  She said through choked sobs, “He’s doing nothing to help my depression, just told me to talk to people.”   I assured her we were all there for her, and would do everything we could to help her through this painful episode in her life.  And we will; but she still carried on weeping into her hands for what seemed ages, wondering what the point of her life was.  Later, together with another girl in that home and another member of staff we went out to a supermarket and got a DVD, chocolate and face packs for a ‘pampering night’ to try and cheer her up; she saw some luminous loom-bands in the store, and even though she was sixteen and sort of past the age for that kind of thing, she was delighted when I bought them for her; a small act of kindness that allowed her the space to just be a kid.  And slowly back at the home she began to relax and even asked if I’d make her some supper, as she had refused to eat all day.  She eventually made her way to bed with a sad little smile on her face and had a hug from the female carer on the landing before settling down.  The manager and team there I know will do everything they can to help her, but all this poor soul needs is to be loved by someone…  I try not to take this stuff home with me, and managed not to cry while sitting with her, watching her dissolve into the misery of her life’s horrors, but on the way home the next morning I had to pull off the road for a while and just let the tears come.