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One of the dealers was SHOT LAST NIGHT. The customers all came running to my door. I was paralysed with panic and had a literal nervous breakdown on the spot.

Then they kick my door in, start screaming and threatening me to serve them with the shotters blood on their hands. I am not a drug dealer! I have no drugs to serve! Even if I did I would NEVER sink as low as to risk someones life by handing them a potentially life threatening drug in exchange for cash.

I screamed I was calling the police. I sobbed and cried. I felt NOTHING towards the dealer who had been shot. I despise this gang so much I felt NOTHING.

The police didn’t come here.

Then this morning Mr Boss Man and another shotter turn up and get NASTY. Tell me if I kick off about them dealing from here I’ll get consequences. The new shotter is carrying a nasty looking big kitchen knife. They smirk as me as they tell me the pack is going to be planted in my home whether I like it or not. Inform me that if I kick off, nothing I do or say will make them leave.

Im going hysterical. Still. Screaming shouting crying sobbing begging pleading for them to leave.

They won’t. I wish I could instead. I’d going to a cheap hotel- anywhere that isn’t here.

Defeated. Desperate.

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