Other people's business. Part 2.

So it's the early hours of new years day, and we're making our way home from a fancy dress night out, after a pretty damn good night. We're walking around the town centre of Bradford, past the lovely grass-over-a-hole-creation that is the urban garden (for those who aren't from Bradford, it was going to be a shopping centre, but it's been...put on hold, indefinitely, and is now a fenced off park) and we see a group of five guys in the park. They're shouting at someone, what sounds like "get the fuck over here", so we edge back the way we came, font being in a fit state to defend ourselves due to the ridiculous nature of our costumes. but as we back off we notice that they're shouting at someone else.

Shouting at a woman, stood in the centre of the group.

Obviously, we can't just walk away from this situation, leaving someone vulnerable like that, so we hid behind a nearby wall to see how things are playing out, phone in hand ready to call the police.
As we're stood there, one male grabs the woman by the ears, shakes her head violently, screaming in her face. from where I was, it looked like he head-butted her, but I'm not 100% certain. Still, we judged that to be enough aggressive behaviour to need an intervention, so I rang the police.

At this point, we're all hiding behind a wall, looking like something from a bizarre whack-a-mole game, heads popping up over the wall to get a better description of the people involved, but trying to stay safely out of sight. While I'm on the phone to the police, going through the usual how-many-are-there, can-you-get-a-description, the shout goes up that the man has punched the woman square in the face, and as I look over the wall she's handing something over to one of the other men, and the first guy grabs her arm and they take her coat off. At this point we're all terrified of what's about to happen, and are readying ourselves to go intervene if the police aren't fast enough. They arrive just seconds after this,  and the group obviously saw the car coming and started to walk away from the scene, but the car heads them off. We stand around impatiently, trying to see where the woman has gone, and if the police are taking her out of harms way, but no one can see her anymore.

The officers get back in the car, alone. No one can see the woman. The group of five men walk away, around a corner, out of sight, whooping and cheering, like they've won some sort of victory.

after  no more than a minute, I hear a scream.
I ring the police again, the operator tells me that after the officers spoke to the group, all of them, including the woman, said that there'd been no incident, that they'd send a car round to check anyway, but that it was, officially, a false alarm.

I can't describe how sick I felt, hearing that, after there were ten witnesses of her being punched in the face, the woman couldn't admit that anything had happened.

Not angry at her, I hope you realise, but sick with guilt, for not going over when the police where there. Maybe, with ten other people there, she'd have had the courage to tell them what happened. Sick with the thought that she might have to live with the man that attacked her, that she might suffer that kind of attack on a regular basis, and is too afraid to speak out.

And sick with frustration, that even though there are ten witnesses, that the police couldn't take any action  because the victim was too scared to speak out.

So without any kind of finality, with heavy hearts, and tears in our eyes, we had to head home once the second police car had passed. I hope, with all my heart, that the young woman got away while the first police car was there; she stood no chance of defending herself alone - high heels and a tiny dress that restricted her movement - and that she didn't know them, that it was just a random attack and she managed to get out of the situation because of our intervention.

But, sadly, I doubt it. From her reactions, and indeed, her assailant's actions, it seemed as though they knew each other.

I liked to think that I knew that this sort of thing happened, and understood the situation that the victims were in. But in my mind, it was always a past victim, someone who'd finally gotten away from their situation, and could look back on their reasons to stay in that situation - with a partner, or a friend, or family - and realise that  although they'd had  such a damaging relationship, that keeping quiet about it only makes things worse.
But seeing it for real triggered all kinds of horror in me, the realisation that this is someone's reality, this is there everyday, makes me feel so... abhorrently guilty that I'm sat in a home where I feel secure, around people I trust, who I can feel safe around, and that I assumed to understand the pain and anguish that a victim of abuse goes through.

x.S.x