Laura Patterson, 22
Running around the green, I tapped my friend Paul on the shoulder.
‘Tag, you’re it!’ I laughed, dashing off.
It was summer 2001, and I was playing with Paul by the flats we lived in.
All us kids knew each other on the block.
After an hour, Paul went inside to check what time his tea was.
As I waited by the entrance, I noticed a man on the landing.
Balding with some tufts of hair at the back and sides, he was holding a camera.
I was 5, outgoing, adventurous – and living in such a friendly area, I started chatting.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked him curiously.
‘I’m taking pictures of graffiti,’ he smirked.
I sat on the cold, hard floor, weeping in terror…
