I’ve never written any details of the physical abuse Mr Boss Man and his runners did to me. But I’m going to now because they haven’t come near me or my flat for over a week, and I’m beginning to feel safe. So here goes… At the beginning it was mostly threats. I’d be held up against the wall with a kitchen knife to my throat, or I’d get slapped, backhanded round the face. After the first 3 weeks it started to get worse. I’d get slapped then punched hard in the stomach, or the
Apparently I’m not just any old drug dealer…no I’m a CHILD GROOMING drug dealer. I mean what the fuck?! It’s so bloody obvious the police think I’m living in la-la land and making it all up, because nothing, absolutely NOTHING has happened to Mr Boss Man and his runners. To add to that, not one word has been spoken about the fact that I’ve spent the past 9 months being trapped by them. Which leads me to conclude that the police think I’m some drug dealing crime boss. If that
I am in limbo right now. Do I start putting the pieces of my life back together? Or should I just admit defeat, and accept the likelihood of being charged for a crime I didn’t commit? I’m beginning to loose faith in the justice system. Everyday I see Mr Boss Man and his gang of drug dealers strutting about in their designer tracksuits, full of cocky arrogance without a care in the world. Yet I’m left feeling like a nervous wreck, tormented by flashbacks of what they did to me
Apparently Mr Boss Man has decided to expand his empire and open up a nursery. For the past 3 days I’ve had an endless stream of young teenage drug runners turning up on my doorstep. All pleading with me to let them stay while they do their shift, or asking for money to get food because they’re hungry. But what’s most upsetting is that they.are all in the same situation…in debt up to their eyeballs, working for free to pay it off, and very obviously terrified under all that g
I’m SO bloody ANGRY. Mr Boss Man and his group of nasty, knife wielding drug dealers have put me through 7 months of absolute TORTURE. Physically and mentally. They have broken me, destroyed my home, rinsed me dry, incriminated me, stripped me of my dignity and quite literally ruined my life. Yet earlier this afternoon, the word goes round that they are back. Not only are they back; Mr Boss Man has new runners working for him. Worse of all, the runners are young teenage kids.
It’s been just over a week since the raid and I’m still numb. I’ve been evicted from my home. None of the gang have been arrested. I am still under investigation for possession with intent to supply. I am broken, numb and spend every day getting progressively more suicidal. Mr Boss Man turned up on my doorstep today. I normally worry about what weapon he’s armed with, whether his levels of agitation are high enough to end up using it. But today, I didn’t give a flying fuck ab
Today I danced in my knickers while I was cleaning my flat! I can’t believe I’m saying that. I didn’t do it because I wanted to. I did it because I COULD. The police FINALLY came! And it was terrifying and traumatising and things went horribly tits up but right now I don’t give a flying fuck because I can now dance in my knickers whenever I damn well feel like it, and oh my God freedom feels good! I got raided the day before yesterday, and let me tell you the feeling of RELIE
I haven’t written anything on here because I have literally been speechless. About 3 nights ago after the shenanigans at the hotel with the kid, I hear the sound of my intercom. Its Mr Boss Man and the gang member who originally trapped me. I told them to go away- they refused. For four minutes straight they buzzed my intercom. The buzzer is as loud as a fire alarm so it got to the point where I had to unscrew the entire intercom system and take it off the wall to stop the so