• County Lines


My involvement with the police wreaked havoc. The trail of carnage and destruction the police left behind for me to clean up is still- to this day- being cleared. The area in which their actions caused the most negative impact is spending my time at home on edge, nervous, panicky and paranoid, terrified that a bright red battering ram is going to come through my front door.

The reason behind this, is a result of repeated past experience combined with the knowledge that there are no good outcomes.

I must clarify that the tension and relentless anxiety are not in relation to fear of repercussions due to the outcome of a drug raid. The tension is as a result of the “BANG” as the battering ram goes through your front door, becomes a constant nagging anxiety that it will happen again. You come to realise you’ve always had subconscious reassurance from the knowledge that the police, fire services and paramedics will be there if you fall. When you lose that reassurance, life instantly becomes more dangerous. As a victim, who was wrongfully accused of being the criminal; every movement you make, word you speak, and action you take is done with the greatest of care. Always ensuring that you’ve covered your arse. Making sure there’s a plan A-Z. Zero tolerance comes into effect, and everyone around you is pushed away. You trust nobody but yourself. When you’ve been failed by the people who are there to protect you, serve justice to those who have done wrong by you, and care for you when you are not able to yourself- life becomes exhausting.

I live through each day always on edge, constantly looking over my shoulder, suspicious of everyone, nervous, jittery and filled with fear and dread.

It’s quite frankly miserable.

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