I appreciate this may sound rather abstract, almost prose-like, but the following is the very real first-hand account of a spiking victim.
Download Festival. 2025. Sunday.
The morning of, I had already re-read my swirly, pink handwritten itinerary in preparation for the day ahead three times over. I had raced my eyes over the same schedule, acting as though it might be rewritten at any moment. Excitement regressed me to the childlike impatience of waiting for Christmas Day to arrive. My plans were already welded onto the forefront of my brain before the clock was given a chance to catch up.
I rooted around clothes strewn messily on the floor of my tent. Searching for my last outfit of clean clothing from the depths of the festival-induced wasteland.
Emerging into the sunshine, I was met by my camp neighbours. Some returning from a night shift, some preparing to replace those weary warriors, and some in the same boat as me. The boat in question, being that of an excited punter ready to seize the day, sat in a circle of camp chairs. We began scoffing down a breakfast with as much nutritional quality as cardboard in superficial attempts to prepare us for the day of drinking ahead. We eagerly discussed the respective bands we were excited to see. One band cropping up on everyone’s list: Korn.
Troops were rallied. A singular bottle of suncream was being tossed between the less organised. Smears of white lathered on our arms, our war paint was applied and ready. We marched across the campsite. Some more artfully than others, managing to avoid the tent lines that seemed to blend in with the grass even in the harsh light of day.
We wove our way through the crowds of Download's finest and beelined our way toward the bar. Typical agents of mischief, we had befriended a bartender the previous night and had been promised discounted drinks if served by him. We scoured the bar, searching for that familiar face. Upon success, we were met with pints of a pale pink cider. Wicked grins grew on our cheeks. In the company of our new friend, we went and settled on a patch of green, bouncing words over the chords of the festival that was humming around us. In total, we garnered three pints from our associate. Challice's full, we disembarked in search of a good viewpoint. Being the last day, our dancing bones were weary and ached with fatigue. We opted to perch atop a hill instead of battling our way to the front. Here, we were free to spin and bounce along to the raucous music being thrown at us from the stage, but also more than able to sit and rest if necessary.
I sat there, enchanted. The air rippled in chromatic harmony in time to the music. My third pint sat on the floor in front of me. Half-full. I leaned into the warm sensation that began to wrap around me, and I fell through the looking glass.
“Once we got to the top of the hill with Floss's friend, she started to go a bit mute, and was just smiling quite a lot. She then commented that she could see the air breathing or moving above the crowd, and I joked that the LSD I had taken was affecting her. Half the things I said to her wouldn’t be processed, and after a little while, she started to lose self-awareness.”
Everything fell away from me. It was as if gravity had chosen to evict me. Everyone else remained tethered as I watched the Earth become smaller and smaller. Further and further away from me until it was just a small dot in the endless landscape of space.
Pulled from the darkness, my eyes began to adjust to this new environment I found myself in. Thrown into the depths of a pool of tar, my limbs ached with each attempt at movement. Wading through such immense resistance, I gave in to this newfound paralysis. A feeling of fatigue washed over me. My limp body was dragged by the current, surfacing only briefly to be met by bright lights stabbing through the dark before I fell under once again. A hundred hands seemed to be gripping me. Thrashing me to and fro, but to no avail. My body slowly regained autonomy of itself, enough to prise my eyelids apart. I peered down at my body. My muscles but concrete slabs encased in a mimicry of skin. I hardly recognised what was in front of me. The weight of my head lulled me backwards. Paralysis possessed me once again.
Fear prickled. A spiked intruder climbing my spine. Inching up my neck. Fear. The only sensation tempting me to surface again. I felt as though I was peering through my own eyes. Sat in the confines of a blackened room and watching the perspective of someone else. Through my lashes bled those same stabbing lights. Primitive urges fuelled by the same fear forced me to clamber out of this room and outside myself.
Objects began to come into focus as I blinked in disbelief. I looked down at hands that couldn't be mine. Wires protruded from the top of my hand. Instinct moved me to remove this. I was met with other hands clamping hold of me, forbidding my movements. Startled and confused, I threw my vision toward the owner of my new manacles. He looked at me, fear painting his face too. “You need to leave it in,” he said. The tail end of his sentence quivered slightly. His face was pale and flat, but his eyes were bright and intense.
“What-“ I started, but found no words to follow. “Do you know where you are?” Another voice intruded.
Were they talking to me? They couldn’t be. That's the kind of question you ask a patient. I turned to the interjecting voice only to be met with a starched green uniform. St John’s Ambulance.
“Is everyone okay?” I started. I turned back to him. The only one who held any familiarity. “Are you okay?” I asked frantically. “Are you cold?” I ask.
He gave a weary smile. I could see the exhaustion weeping from his face. Upon inspecting my body once more, I saw more and more wires leading from my body to a machine. Mother fear returned and took control of the strings of my marionette. Repeated attempts to rid my veins of these metal intruders were made. My world ebbed and whirred and collapsed, plunging me under once again.
For those few hours, that is all my brain retained. Flashes of fear, struggle and confusion. The following hours, i am left to rely on the testimonies of witnesses.
“I had to catch her and ensure her head was safe as I put her in the recovery position. Floss tried very hard to stay conscious, but this was a losing game. Over the course of the next 1.5 hours, over 10 staff were involved in protecting the area while the egress was ongoing, and ensuring the paramedics could do their job.
They took ages to arrive, and multiple times I had to stop Floss from falling down the hill after losing consciousness. Even after they arrived, the ambulance couldn’t arrive, so I ended up helping the paramedics with holding the drip bottle and the torch for them as they struggled to find her veins. In the end, they put it in her hand, and whenever Floss would regain consciousness, she would loudly declare that she didn’t know what was going on, multiple times, and begin to take off the needle in her hand. Many times I had to restrain her, along with the paramedics, and this made her feel more trapped and scared, which was incredibly hard to watch.”
“During this time, Floss would be 60% passed out and 40% trying to help everyone around her who was helping out. She kept offering them layers or blankets that she didn’t have, and also sometimes coming back to normal, although this was very rare. Whenever I’d say, “You need the help from the paramedics, and that’s why you have many things attached to you”, she seemed to only understand for a split second before loudly proclaiming that she didn’t want them on her and attempting to take them off.
Finally, the ambulance arrived, maybe 2 hours after the collapse. Once we arrived, I carried her with the medic to the welfare bed, and then got started with the witness statement.”
On paper, I did everything right. I didn’t share drinks or accept any from strangers. I was surrounded by friends. I didn’t take any drugs. I did everything right. Many would argue I did more than most, without even intending to be vigilant. Yet, it still happened to me.
Following the incident, I have made efforts to get my hands on the witness statement written by my friend and witness, but to no avail.
Following the incident, the organisation who Download festival forwarded by witness report stating that in order to ensure the safety of others, the suspected spiker would need to be alerted of my full name. These communications were entirely over my head, only forwarded to me by my witness.
Following the incident, my friend informed me that medical staff were insistent I was on ketamine and my state was self-induced until they saw my ‘staff’ wrist band. I can’t help but fear for other young girls who may be taken less seriously. When I questioned my friend, I was curious as to whether he would have recognised what happened to me as being a spiking in a stranger. The answer was a resounding ‘no’.
Following the incident, people whom I have told have had a range of reactions. My own behaviour was questioned more than that of the suspected spiker.
Following the incident, I knew I wanted to write about it. This meant making my parents aware before publishing the details online. This would mean having to recount details of my temporary paralysis and unconsciousness to the very same people who grew me, raised me and have loved me since before my first steps. I cannot iterate how gut-wrenching this is. Watching your father’s eyes shine and fall to the floor as he hears of how vulnerable his little girl was left in, all at the hands of a stranger. I only hope that you, the reader, will never have to do this.
Following the incident, I have been exposed to the inadequacy of festival welfare teams. I was perfectly cared for and looked after, but it was clear that there were issues, including understaffing and a clear lack of organisation. I am eternally grateful to my responders and cannot stress enough how this is not directed towards them. I thank Dom, Tom and Phil with all the earnestness my heart can hold.
Following the incident, I will continue to enjoy festivals. I shall continue to trust people, and I shall continue to be grateful for the treasured friends who supported, cared for and listened to me. I will be more aware of spiking. I will be more aware of the signs of spiking. I will protect and look after myself and those around me.
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