When I was 13 my mum died. I went back to school and none of the kids would talk to me. I guess it was out of awkwardness because they didn’t know what to say.
That’s when I met N.
N was a rebel. A naughty kid. One of the kids I was never likely to associate with. But she was the only kid who brazenly walked over to me and said “sorry your mum died, you look sad, let’s go out together at lunch for a joint. It’ll make you feel better”.
We were total opposites in every respect. Ying and yang. Our personalities clashed, we had nothing in common and were openly honest about the fact that neither of us really liked one another. But we never lost contact. We are ‘shit hits the fan friends’. We can go for years without speaking, but when shit hits the fan- we are always by each others side.
But how do you tell someone a gang of drug dealers kept you imprisoned in your home for 8 months using it as a base to deal drugs from. In that time asking the police for their help on 6 seperate occassions while enduring horrendous physical and mental abuse day in, day out. Then 8 months later when your desperate pleas for help are heard and the police finally show up- you are the one arrested and charged for dealing drugs?
Oh and by the way, let me just make a quick call to one of the 14 year old gang members to order twenty quids worth of class-A’s, and hope he doesn’t stab me with a kitchen knife he stole from my kitchen when I go and pick up the drugs…
That last part would actually be true if I were to call them and order twenty quids worth of drugs. Literally.
Anyway, back to what I was saying. I finally managed to tell N the day before last. So it was a lovely surprise to see her standing on my doorstep within 24 hours.