OUR LITTLE GAME

After years of hell, Ceri-Ann Morgan, 28, from Cwmbran, South Wales, was able to break free from the person who should have protected her the most...

-  HOLLY MEI-YU STAFFORD AND ANAIS SEELY

Splashing around in the water, the beach was a normal outing.

With my two brothers running around Swansea Beach, my mum, Agatha*, now 53, and dad, Carl, now 55, watched us from a distance.

We’d tend to go to the seaside quite a lot, and at age four, it was clear that I was a daddy’s girl.

‘You’re like his little shadow,’ Mum would always say.

And it was true – we had a great relationship.

Whether we were fishing or watching the TV together, I didn’t want to leave his side.

And with my mum working late or going out to play bingo, it meant that Dad had the responsibility for the night.

‘Bath time!’ he smiled.

And Dad would always try and make it a fun experience.

With floating toys and entertaining stories, I could feel my eyes getting heavier by the second – a routine that I was familiar with.

Lifting me out of the bath and plonking me on top of the toilet seat, Dad reached for the towel to dry me off.

Only, when he did so, his hands hovered over my down below area – then he lowered his head to my privates.

Licking and touching me, I had no idea what he was doing – this wasn’t part of our normal bath time routine.

‘This is our little secret, sweet,’ Dad would repeat, clutching my cheeks with his hand. ‘This is our little game.’

And just like that, I assumed that this was something everyone did with their dad – at just four, I thought he’d made a new game for us to play.

One that we would play at least four times a week, when Mum left…