Part XIII Plans and Pizza

It’s been a long time and I’m sorry. It’s January and I don’t know about you but I’ve tried not to feel blue and its just not gone down as I’d hoped. January really sucks and the rain hasn’t stopped. If your like me and not yet a home owner then the looming February rent to pay (which is actually much higher than a mortgage would cost me) is making you feel a bit sick and your praying to god everyone actually pays you on time. So yes ‘Anxious Annie’ has reared her bitch self and taken a hold of me the past two weeks so I’ve been in a rut. I mean I’ve also been super busy working my ass off too so have been zonked out most nights by 10pm. I’m not going to complain though because I am my own boss which is what I always wanted. I’ve had my fair share of arsehole bosses, the worst of them whom my blog is based on so I am eternally happy that I no longer answer to jumped up woman-haters or shit managers.

As some of you read, I wrote a post in support of the ‘Times Up’ movement regarding the treatment we received from the police when we complained about ‘R’, we were effectively dismissed, not taken seriously and there was ‘obvious’ stereotyping. I was told by an ex-copper now turned successful crime author that I should base my blog on the truth – yes those were her words. This really shocked me and it hurt fucking bad that someone not believe me yet AGAIN and that they genuinely thought this blog had been written by some fantasist attention seeking female…YAWN I got upset and let it fuck with my equilibrium (one of my besties always tells me not to let shit fuck with my equilibrium, I should listen to her more). My response was normal, I’d put something out there that is controversial and speaks badly of the police (which I found out after formally complaining about them that not many people like because they don’t want to believe it) but lets be clear now shall we – everything I write here is the truth, sadly it did all happen. I quickly realised that not everyone reading what I write here is going to like it, and that’s ok. C’est la vie that’s life! I am waffling now so I’m going to apologise for my shit lazy ass miserable self with my first world problems and excuses of late and hope you enjoy it! Happy New Year too (its a little late I know but I hope its going well and it will be your best yet, unless your a prick and I don’t like you then in that case I hope you stub your toe REAL bad).

I left you with Lolly. Sweet, dainty, elfin Lolly. She left a lasting impression on me because she was so different; she seemed destined to be a star or a casualty, or maybe both – like Amy Winehouse maybe. Lolly like all the girls needed me to save them and this new rule ‘R’ had made me more determined to get my plan sorted. After we got back from her meet, ‘R’ arrived to the flat for his daily fuck. Fucking bastard I thought, but hey like I was going to say anything. Serena and Susie were there too and he took Lolly off into the bedroom to have his way with her, Serena looked relieved and I felt it too but still some poor girl had to endure what we all had too. 20 minutes later Lolly emerged with a bit more cash in her hand and her tights now not worth wearing, ‘R’ left quickly after and had bought more supplies; condoms, towels and toilet roll. When he left Susie quizzed Lolly on one what he’d done to her, shaking her head with disgusted saying

“My god, your crazy girl, crazy, why you let him do that to you?”

Susie knew the answer but she asked anyway, I think we all asked ourselves or each other at times to deflect the fact we hadn’t yet made a stand against his criminal behaviour. We were all guilty of accepting it in some way shape or form but none of us were strong enough or brave enough to do anything, maybe some of us were used to this we didn’t see it as wrong? I know Susie – the hardened one amongst us must have seen some crazy stuff, she’d told me about the time she worked in Germany in a ‘super-brothel’ where they have rooms with panic buttons in case they have trouble, they also had security guards on each door too. Susie said she’d been with a guy for hours and he’d been on the usual; cocaine and whiskey and turned nasty because he couldn’t get a hard on…. urgh I knew the type we had them all the time on the weekends, the lads who’d been out all night coming in early hours of the morning on the weekend coked up to their eyeballs and a bad case of ‘shrivel-dick’. They’d then get mad at the girl because they are pumped up from the snow but their man-hood wont do shit, and yet its not their fault, no of course not its her fault. Same for Susie in Germany; this guy had turned aggressive and tried to strangle her but luckily she had a panic button and a security guard! What did we have? Jack fucking shit and it bothered me all the time. Anyone could come in and attack us as well as steal our money, rape or even kill us these thoughts were always present in my head but ‘R’ would tell me I was ‘hysterical’ whenever I suggested it.  We were so vulnerable in many ways, like sitting ducks and I felt anxious 24/7.

I’d not been very good with messaging Robbie back and to be honest the thought of us being together terrified me. It so true what they say when you’ve been hurt so badly you just expect it will all end up ‘tits-up’ so I’d gotten to the point where I thought why bother? I mean yes, I definitely believed it was love at first sight but I also thought I had a tendency to romanticise things and so didn’t make it a priority. I certainly wasn’t off him but because he had the wife and son to deal with I wasn’t going to the one pressing, no one was going to label me a home-wrecker

My priority was making my plan, the one in which was going to ensure we all got out alive. I’d seen too many girls come and go and it frightened me, sometimes I wondered if they were just smarter than us lot who stuck around and then sometimes my mind raced with all things dark suggesting they met horrible fates or at least would. It sounds mad to say it but everyday felt like I was dicing with the death and I just knew that if I didn’t do something then that impending doom was going to come true. Emily had got in touch with me and I’d managed to text her a few messages, I let it play out politely first asking her if she was ok and what she was doing. We exchanged niceties and then came the message I’d hoped for. She didn’t hold back at all and let me know exactly what she thought of him; she was also surprised that I was still there saying that she thought I had more intellect. It shocked me a bit but I needed it, this all coming from an 18 year old girl; even she who I had thought was really messed up and had questioned at times if she even had a conscience clearly had one even she was bloody shocked at me being there. I told her the truth, I said I was scared and I told her I wanted to get help. She agreed with me and so that she became a little part of my plan. Bloody hell we were beginning what would be a long fight. I asked her if she would email me a short statement (as such) about what he did to her, thankfully she agreed and the next day I received it in my email. By this time I was fully paranoid though, I felt ‘R’ had me bugged just like the flat had been that day when I’d heard it in the car. Paranoia is such a bitch and it weighed down on me so hard, I wondered if he would hack into that email and find it then do something to me but I risked it anyway. Who else to trust though?

Lolly had left and I had messaged her a few times at ‘R’s’ request but then I she’d ignored it many times. Fuck I didn’t blame her! I was also really worried she was still being pimped out though or getting herself into awful situations so I decided to text her from my phone this time. She replied. Thank the lord she was alive!

Me: Can I ring you? I’m not in the flat, on way home just wanted to catch up?

TeenLolly: Sure, I’m free now

We spoke for nearly 30 minutes and she was just like Emily; totally different than what she’d showed me. She was articulate, intelligent and also told me she wasn’t coming back as he was a creep and she didn’t like him. She was now in London already, it was weird as growing up as a teenager you’d hear about these teens who go missing or go off to the city and run away from home but someone like me from little old Norfolk had never known any ’til now. Agreeing with her I let her know that I wasn’t into him either and wanted to get the fuck out. I asked her where she’d come across him and it was always the same thing ‘On the internet’.  A predator on the internet promising vulnerable young women a better life then grooming them and trapping them in a flat to be pimped out and earn him money as well as be on tap for whenever he had the urge.

“I’m going to go the police about him ya know?”

“What you gona say?”

“Dunno yet but this has to stop its fucking wrong, I’m scared because he’s getting worse, how old are you really?”

“He made me a fake ID, told me not to tell you, said it would be fine, I just wanted to earn some money to get away but I wasn’t going to sleep with that creep for free”

“I know hun, he’s a sicko, I honestly felt sorry for you and wanted to do something but I just feel so scared”

“I know, I get it. When you going to go to the police?”

“Well like I said, I dunno yet, I need to get people to support me, I can’t do it on my own. They won’t believe me and its deffo power in numbers in this sito”

“Ok well i’ll tell the truth”

“Will you? Your not scared?”

“Nope no way, give them my number”

“Great! Well I got another girl to email me a statement thing so I can take it in the station with me”

“I can’ do that just yet as I have no way of emailing but when I do I will, ok? Stay in touch though and you can give them my number”

“Diamond. Thanks, I got to go, I’ll call you soon”.

Oh my God. Another one. This plan was going to work but the people I really needed on side were Serena and Ash. Susie never really experienced ‘R’ abusing her in the way the others did, as I said – she was too old for that pervert her tits too big, her figure too juicy. ‘R’ liked the ‘ironing boards’ the tiny petite ones thats why he chose the kids. I have no doubt in my mind he’d have gone younger eventually. I reckoned I could trust Selena, we got on fab like a house on fire, she’d tell me about the books she read and cliche as it sounds I’d get lost in the worlds of the tales she told me and it was moments like that that got me through the shit. I’d bonded with her even more after being sent out on an ‘overnighter’ with her to The Atlantic hotel in Liverpool. I still have a picture of us dolled up off to ‘entertain’ and it wasn’t so bad going in pairs. She looks so baby-faced in the pic and has huge fake eyelashes on that make her look like Twiggy. That night was a blast actually, the guys were really nice super drunk and on a stag do, they weren’t getting anything up that night thank fuck. I really hated the fact ‘R’ was forcing me into these situations but then It was £650 cash in hand after he’d taken his £350 fee. Serena and I had these pair of lummox’s ordering us Domino’s pizza and movies from the hotel TV. They had eventually fallen asleep by 3am and so we legged it with the cash as soon as we could. We laughed and laughed like Thelma and Louise – we were very lucky that night.

Ash was a funny one, she always had been. I had sussed out that in Liverpool families often hate each other one minute and the next minute are posting pics all over Facebook gushing about each other like nothing ever happened. I didn’t work like that and that’s why I hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with my dad, I don’t forgive and forget so easily. Ash had always been stand offish with me, it was ok she though I got it. She thought I was some posh wanker and who wanted to keep all the jobs for themselves but she’d got that wrong. I didn’t want any of the ‘jobs’ and happily went out to get her more work so she could pay for her baby. Over the months she’d relaxed a bit with me and when she loosened up we’d have a right laugh taking the piss outta people or doing impressions (mainly me doing impressions, I’m quite good ya know). Ash’s dad had recently got out of jail or something like that and had reappeared in her life getting his new girlfriend to work at the flat too. I found this so fuckt up that her own Dad had his girlfriend working in a brothel where his daughter worked? WTF. Oh well it had seemed to be working for them at the time so who was I to judge? They were desperate for cash and they saw what Ash was getting, I guess that’s why many get into crime anyway, the less privileged in society wanting material things that they weren’t going to get unless they did it in unsavoury ways, stories of those who’ve come from nothing are rare and its bloody hard to get ahead when you’ve not been shown how. I felt the same though, I got that bit too, I wanted a nice car, nice bags, good clothes, to appear successful and rich but had no other way of getting there other than doing this either. Ash would be the hardest nut to crack she was likely to go one way or the other, her upbringing meant that she inherently hated the police, she’d only recently gotten her electronic tag off herself and regularly referred to them as ‘scum’ ‘pigs’ and ‘filth’. No way would she back me up even after what ‘R’ repeatedly did to her, she forgave him too just like she did her parents. Its a cycle depending on what day you catch them on its like wondering who your going to get and I had to play it the right way. I thought about it all the time and knew that out of all of us she had probably endured some of the worst abuse from him, but what I did know for sure was she wasn’t recruited in the way the young girls were, they were recruited in a much more sinister manner involving them being drugged and raped in hotel rooms or fancy mansions all over the North West. It didn’t matter though, none of it was ok. I was going to start chatting to Serena about it and ask her views on Ash helping us. I trusted Serena now too.

I’d messaged Robbie back and we’d agreed to meet finally as I’d been putting him off and it wasn’t on purpose it was genuinely for an easier life from ‘R’. Robbie had said that whether I liked it or not he was coming to mine with pizza and a bottle of wine, thankfully I was still allowed home at nights when I wanted to now and since coming out of hospital I had an excuse that I wasn’t afraid to use but I hadn’t managed to get anyone to do the phones, in all honesty I needed the commission from the bookings that would go through and only I could make the money like that. Robbie said he had BIG news for me and it actually filled me with dread. I wanted him to be everything I imagined about true love but I also didn’t want to feel pressurised into something that might end badly but then he’d dumped his wife and family for me? That was some heavy shit and I already had heavy shit to deal with but speaking with Robbie made me more determined to end up out of it and lead a normal life. I was excited for Pizza but also afraid to eat in front of guys too, now I was out of hospital I cared a bit more about what he thought of me and I had that thing most girls do where they’re afraid to eat for fear of being looked at as a fat pig with no self-control….. yup most girls are nodding right now?

Anyways fuck the pizza for now, I had to get in touch with Lolly again so she didn’t forget about what she’d promised and I had to get Ash ALL the jobs and keep her in my good books. Plus the more she was booked out the less chance she had of that creep choosing to fuck her after he’d done a day in the office as the star accountant he was from 9-5.

 

Love Lo xxx

 

He lied… Part XII

He lied. Turns out like most other men I’d come across this one was no different. I should have known he had absolutely no intention of inviting me round for just ‘coffee. Oh no, more fool me; once again I’d believed a man. I didn’t want coffee anyway, I much preferred tea just like he’d served and this little lie I’d let go. It turned  out we both love ‘Yorkshire Tea’ too – result! Robbie was the perfect gentleman when I’d been round, he tried no funny business and had even got the custard creams in (I’d happened to tell him whilst in hospital that they were my fave). We’d spent two hours laughing and joking awkwardly whilst I sat perched on his black pleather couch feeling riddled with guilt that it belonged to him and his wife. I looked around the room of his modest terraced house in a shitty part of Southport. MDF, black pleather and red everywhere. I hate red. It not only reminds me of flat 16 where sheets and lamps were red but it’s just a tacky colour for a home; shiny red backsplashes and feature wallpaper with red flowers is gross and I hoped badly that it was her choice and not his. I couldn’t live with a man who didn’t like traditional interiors and instead liked what I snobbishly called ‘classless tat’. Pictures of his beautiful son were everywhere, with only one picture of them together – their wedding day. God I wished I hadn’t clocked that pic but at the same time I couldn’t help but look as he boiled the kettle. I wanted to see if I could spot any odd body language between the pair of them, as I’d once read in my mums ‘Take a break’ that body language showed us so much more than we realised. She looked glum and he looked hung over, her dress was rank and it wasn’t me being bitchy it was just not nice and drowned her tiny petite Filipino frame. I was no body language expert but that didn’t look like true love and happiness to me!

Two hours spent with the man of my dreams had made me feel even better about my future, though I still had no idea what was going to happen. I wanted him badly but I wasn’t going to be a mistress and certainly not a home wrecker. He’d asked me about what I was going to do now I was out of hospital, I told him how I still wanted to go back to college and become a vet. Robbie encouraged me and said I should go for it, no man had ever encouraged me to do something good for myself, not my dad, nor my ex husband, actually only one teacher Mr.Hanton who always told me I’d end up as an author. Robbie was genuine, calming and most of all he believed in me. There were many questions about ‘R’ and he informed me he’d spoken to Kath the nice nursey who had listened to me break down that day in hospital. She’d broken confidentiality by telling him but I didn’t mind, I was glad he knew because other than him I had no one I could tell. My old friends wouldn’t understand and my new friends Susie et al wouldn’t either, not yet anyway. Robbie only got the information I gave him, he knew the bare minimum, as I couldn’t have anyone steam rolling my plans and freaking out after realising what danger we were really in.

That night was busy on the phones and rob had text me several times yet I hadn’t replied. I couldn’t, I had no time to though I’d read them.

“Shall I bring pizza to yours one night next week?”

Yes yes! I loved pizza and him so that was a plan. I’d have to sort a night off with Ash or Serena so I could spend it phone free and I’d pray to god one of them would do it, I often felt totally alone in this and was desperate for more girls to offer to take the phones but they weren’t total mugs like me. Even if I was ‘off’ I was never was phone-free because they rang me every 5 minutes. They always needed constant reassurance or to be told if someone was a time waster or not, I’d become quite hardened to the time-wasters like a tough land-lady not entertaining the dick heads. Problem was even though I saved all punters numbers in the phones they often rang from different digits. We used to calls all the time from unknown numbers, ‘R’ told me to answer these too as men were just protecting their identity; poor men needing to make sure they were safe from being caught out by their wives, and obviously they didn’t want us girls having their real number in case we felt compelled to call them afterwards because obviously their performance in the sack was mind blowing… dick heads! I didn’t agree with taking bookings from unknown numbers but hey I had no power so just did as I was told. This one lad would ring all the time, divulging his sick fantasies about young kids, he would ring all the time telling us he was in Maccy D’s in Kirkby waiting to kid nap little boys. It made me so sick and angry and all I wanted to do was report him, it got so bad at one time I’d said to ‘R’ I was going to but he went mad at me saying the guy wasn’t doing anything bad and just being an attention seeker. Serena would listen to him and abuse him and Ash would hang up, he often rang up to 100 times a day, getting the number off the various websites ‘R’ had up offering ‘his girls’. When I think about that sick caller I often wonder and pray to god that the bastard has been caught and locked up. To me, it should be simple; we report those who are committing crimes, but not in Liverpool. You don’t snitch, you don’t grass you just accept, keep your head down and move on.

The day after my ‘tea-date’ I was back in the flat, Angel was supposed to be coming but she’d cancelled last minute with some rather crazy excuse about her family. The girls always had elaborate, crazy stories as to why they couldn’t come in, the more crazy the more credible it seemed to them, none of us wanting to just say

“I don’t feel like being fuckt for cash today, in fact the thought is making me sick, and to think of you touching me too is quite frankly going to send me over the edge”

Maybe their tales of woe and misfortune were true? I felt shocked at myself for feeling angry that Angel hadn’t turned up, it meant I might not make as much money as every booking that went through I got a percentage of. Ffs I’d not got anyone else who I could pass of as a ‘teen’, Ash had been seen by everyone it felt and we always needed fresh meat. Susie couldn’t do them either as she was so obviously ‘seasoned’ and offered a totally different experience. ‘R’ had rang me saying that we had a couple of new girls and would I look after them. Of course I would, that was my job but I also had definitely taken the role on as carer too. I realised I was a madamn/maid and felt a real sense of responsibility for them. Susie’s ‘care’extended only to certain girls and since she’d been hitting the ‘lemmo’ harder she had become less bothered especially when it came to the ‘teens’. It was an obvious jealousy as she grafted and put the hours in but the teens just got everyone most days. I didn’t blame her for being miffed at them, she saw them as playing at it and naive and stupid, she saw it for her as a legitimate source of income and profession.

That afternoon the first girl ‘Isabel’ arrived, she was 6ft tall with huge boobs and a baby face. An hour late wasn’t acceptable I’d warned her but luckily her guy was running late too so she managed to get their two minutes after he’d arrived. It was John the reg and as you now know he loved to be the first guy with the new girls. He was a sure thing. 40 minutes later (John always pushed his luck with time limits) she’d got her money and told me she was off to the shop for cigs, she’d be coming back though… Yeh heard that one before and sure enough she was gone.

“These bloody girls”

In her thick Hungarian accent Susie then said

“Stupid girl, told me she was only 14 and off out after this to go drinking in a blokes flat”

“14? What the fuck Susie?, 14? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. She said only 14, she looks so big though, but now she say it I believe”

“Oh god, this is terrible! I need to ring him”

I was so cross I shook. I was petrified and rang him immediately, luckily it had just been me and Susie in the room when she told me. I didn’t want Ash hearing that especially as she’s a young mother. Why had I bothered ringing him when I knew he wouldn’t care? I’d heard the exact things he’d say in my head before ringing him and yet lets face it he couldn’t do anything anyway. I got the whole ‘well its not our fault these bloody girls look so old now’ or ‘they come with fake ID I don’t know if its real or not’. The truth was he NEVER EVER checked them for anything other than whether they were willing to sleep with him for a job, their willingness was the test. The young girls who were barely in their teens turned him on, and later that afternoon confirmed it even more when I was sent the second underage girl of the day to ‘look after’.

“How old are you?”

“16, I mean 18” she said as she nervously giggled

“Where’s your ID?”

“Oh I have it, I gave it to him, he said he was bringing the photocopies for you tonight, I just look real young ha!”

“Ok, well he tells me your name is Lollipop but Lolly for short ok? And your here to make money for drama school?”

“Yeh I want to be an actress or something, I don’t know yet but I want to live in London and become famous”

“Wow, nice! Ok so have you done this before?”

“No, but I will be great at it I sleep with people for free all the time, may as well get paid for it I’m very eager to learn”

There was something so ‘Lolita-like’ about Lolly, a tiny tiny little thing, size 6 tops and about 5ft 2 inches tall with mass of long blonde curly wild hair which matched her demeanour. She was weirdly charming and innocent, sweet and just fairy-like, definitely child-like. A 90s style mini dress hung off her minute frame and her tights were ripped with only a small leather jacket to keep her warm in the rainy gloomy autumn days of Liverpool. She looked like Taylor Momsen as Jenny in Gossip Girl but not as old.  She also reminded me of Cassie from Skins too, massively in fact and that made me realise even more how vulnerable she was. I shouldn’t have been making her work; I should have gone straight to the ‘bizzies’ there and then. I was disgusted in myself and well, whenever people say there’s an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other – well I now understood.

Off we went to a rich business mans pent house apartment in the city centre; his apartment was in one of the ‘poshest’ buildings and looked fab. ‘R’ had asked me to take dear little Lolly to her 4 hour booking (yes 4 hours because she was so young). It was odd because I’d not put this booking through myself ‘R’ had arranged it privately which was a first. I quickly realised after dropping her and waiting in the Starbucks whilst I decided whether I was going back to grab her or not that he’d set this up because he clearly was involved in some horrible ring of disgusting ‘men’ who liked pre-pubescent teens and it reminded me of ‘Taken’. Christ, I literally had to pinch myself all the time because I couldn’t believe half of it was going on. I’d had to escort her because ‘R’ was concerned she would go missing on the way, he was right she was certainly the type to go missing and I couldn’t understand where her family were and why they weren’t concerned for her safety; but neither were mine.

It dawned on me the severity of the problem, how many under age girls there truly were who were wayward, missing, vulnerable and at the mercy of disgusting predators who offered them food, shelter, money, mobile phones and attention. I’d also been informed that she would be staying the night and I was to feed and water her. I couldn’t wait to take her for a burger and nurture her after all she’d need it after that booking for 4 hours. I was terrified it would put her off; I didn’t want these young girls getting frightened. Still I wondered how he came about getting the girls, Serena had told me recently that she’d been drugged by him on their meeting for her job as a ‘receptionist’ and when she came round in the seedy hotel room he tried to make out everything was all ok and she’d fallen asleep. He’d also taken her out to some rich friends house who was away, it was a mansion in Greater Manchester and he’d once again abused her – this was before she was a semi-regular in the flat. There was way more going on than I realised with way more people involved too, I preferred not to ask him, he fed me constant bull shit anyway and so from that day with Lolly I decided to start writing things down. Names of girls, punters who wanted the super young, and accounts of what the girls had told me.

Emily had disappeared whilst I was in hospital but had popped up on my Instagram as someone to follow. She had seemed to have converted to Islam and was quoting passages from the Quran as well as posing next to pics of her boyfriend who was the reason she’d converted according to her ‘captions’. She was living in London and working in Boots which I was so happy to see, hopefully not doing anything dodgy anymore and I wondered if she’d perhaps tell me how ‘R’ had come to meet her too because despite everything else he was doing, this clear and obvious pattern was emerging and getting worse. It seemed ‘R’ was sourcing his girls in the most unsavoury and predatory ways and I wanted to hear from Emily what had happened to make her leave. I sent her a follow request and hoped she’d accept.

I was outside ready and waiting an hour before Lolly was due to emerge. I wanted to make sure she didn’t go anywhere, partly because she’d have at least £600 in cash on her but also because this was prime opportunity for her to disappear. Out she came with 30 mins to spare, he’d let her leave early and tipped her an extra £180. I let her keep it and told her not to say a thing, she was totally un-phased by it all and seemed in a daze, almost drugged up. Back we went to the flat walking through Chapel Street past Kurt Geiger where she dragged me in and bought the most ridiculous shoes that had 6 inch heels and made her even more like Bambi on Ice. She was a darling and I wanted to adopt her, I would definitely ‘save’ her and the rest very soon. ‘R’ had told me not to give her any of the rest of the cash and we now had a new rule: We keep the cash for the new young girls and only give them little bits at a time, that way they have to stay……

I agreed reaching a whole new low.

 

Out,out; Part XI 

As soon as she handed me my prescription I legged it. Thank the Lord! This was a day I genuinely didn’t think I’d see in the first 3 weeks of my 6-week stay. I had truly believed I might die, I knew at times I’ve been a ‘DQ’ (as my sister used to call me which stood for ‘Drama Queen’) but I had felt really frightened as I’d never been unwell like that. I’d had the shock of my life and realised it was my body reacting to the way in which my mind felt. I’d worked myself into this situation because I was messed up and knew it too. Allowing myself to be abused by men, as well as abusing myself and I knew it would end badly but I couldn’t let it. I’d accepted I was weak and an easy target so had let myself become his ‘modern day slave’ – frightened to go home to my own bedsit and scared to even go to the shop for milk for the girls.

Now I was out I didn’t know what to do, in my head a plan to go the police would happen but I had no idea when or how to execute this. In less than 24 hours I was on Mersey rail travelling back to the only ‘friends’ I had in flat 16. Disappointed but reminding myself every minute that I was going back with purpose which was to gather support from the girls so we could all go to the police; power in numbers. ‘R’ had reminded me so many times that ‘we’ had police protection and the fact that police officers used our ‘services’ meant we were left alone. Whenever he spoke about it, it felt scripted like an episode of Prime Suspect but I believed him, I believed everything he said because that’s what ‘men’ like him do. Constant mind games; I was so on to them now but still had to amuse him by playing along, just for a little while until we could break free.

I was glad to see Susie, Serena and even Ash, my first day back ‘R’ made me feel special and threw a little party for me. He announced in front of the girls how he’d missed me whilst parading his fresh meat ‘Baby Angel’ in front of us telling her she was in safe hands now I was back. Serena was right, she looked pre-pubescent, minuscule like a Bratz doll with a big head and tiny figure yet HUGE tits! I was jealous of someone with such a natural well-proportioned figure and ‘R’ was openly all over her in front of us like she was his girlfriend, we’d not seen this before by him. It was weird. I found it weird because she seemed to like him, either she was a shit-hot actress or she bloody liked him?! Poor girl I thought. Off he slinked into the spare room with Angel to go and dip his dick. Serena and Susie rolled their eyes knowingly whilst Ash looked relived. Ash had, had it pretty bad since being on ‘tag’, he’d punished her pretty bad daily and forced her to give him what he wanted telling her that now she was on tag she was drawing more attention to the apartment and could only stay if she ‘apologised’. I had no words, just rage and sadness.

I still felt rough and had lost a lot of weight, ‘R’ had agreed I could just do the day shifts from the flat and go home at night but I must stay on the phones still. Great, no rest for the wicked! That first day back after he’d left, Angel was back to back with bookings. They came in non stop for her because ‘R’ knew what the men wanted and that was ‘young’ he told me that the younger they are the more money they make and we needed ‘cash cows’. It never failed to shock me that there were so many men wanting to pay for sex with a girl who was advertised as a ‘barely legal teen’ offering A-levels. The phone was hot just for her and one request from a total freak really got me that day. This creep rang up asking to book Angel for 1.5 hours with A-levels included however he also had a special request; he wanted her to wear a maternity bra and pretend to breast feed him! ‘What the actual fuck is wrong with him?’ I shrieked and we all giggled like nervous schoolgirls. Angel was up for it which shocked me even more, I wondered if she really needed the cash or was just into that?! Bizarre.

Though the girls all got on pretty well they were after all, only at the flat for the mere fact they needed cash. When they sat around ‘dead’ and one particular girl was getting all the bookings there was an obvious scent of jealousy in the air and they would start getting agitated meaning I was under more pressure to get everyone at least one booking in a shift. I especially felt the pressure from Susie and Ash, after all Susie sent hers home to Hungary where her mum and sister ran a nursery and Ash was a single mum who had a gorgeous little boy and dead wood family members to support.

That first day back was made a whole lot better by bald-nursery (who’s name btw is Robbie) asking for my number on FB. I liked his name so much because I liked Robbie Williams which sounds pathetic but we do associate people with names and that’s why I hated Jessica’s because to me they were husband-stealing prune-eating freaks! Obviously I waited ten minutes before replying, I didn’t want to look too desperate but also didn’t want to seem like I wasn’t interested! 10 minutes to me seemed like a good amount of time to make someone fret but not sweat! Within two minutes he’d text me, asking how I was and whether I wanted to meet for a coffee the next day. Dammit, I’d never be allowed to get out of working so I had to construct a reasonable and credible story that ‘R’ wouldn’t ask too many questions over. If he got wind of me having a boyfriend I was toast! Just like he reinforced his BS beliefs on us, having a boyfriend was a no-no. We were told men were no good for us and stopped us making money, that as feminists we shouldn’t allow any man to tell us not to do this line of work. Ha! Feminists? Now whilst I truly believe there are some strong characters in the industry that are feminists and do the job to feel powerful, us girls certainly were not. We were all controlled by ‘R’ he was our pimp and even Susie needed him yet she was the strong one. It was obvious he didn’t want us having boyfriends because they got in the way of his criminal activity, there was just too much at stake for him, he didn’t give a fuck about us earning money for ourselves, it was all about him. Narcissistic, egotistical, sociopath ‘R’ with his harem of girls.

He wasn’t having it, and I couldn’t be bothered constructing a lie that made me more anxious than I needed to be so I arranged to meet Robbie 2 days later for coffee at his house. I found it strange that he would invite me to his house he shared with his wife and son but I figured that meant maybe he was a respectful man who was literally inviting me round for coffee and a chat. Someone wanting to be my actual friend was a hard concept to grasp, I was so used to people having ulterior motives; especially men.  Robbie didn’t make me feel scared or unsafe normally my mind would be racing with all possible worst-case scenarios but not this time. I had nothing to wear and by now it was September and I hadn’t realised how much harsher the north was compared to little ole Norfolk with its hazy Indian summers that I remember stretching to the beginning of October. It was much colder and drizzling daily, permanently grey and I had realised why they said “Its grim up north”. One thing gave me comfort and that was that he’d already seen me at my worst so anything more was only a bonus. Spending money on new clothes to meet him for coffee wasn’t an option; I needed to save every penny I got from the flat so I could do something with myself. Unsure what the hell I would do but somewhere in the back of my mind I still wanted to get a degree in Veterinary medicine so I could hug dogs all day. Ha – no way! I didn’t even have any A-levels due to my dad’ moving us to NZ right in the middle of 6th form and just before my mum would have qualified for a fat-as pension.

I couldn’t wait to see Robbie and knew he felt the same; I was going to go be respectful and not sleep with any man in the house they shared with their wife. That was scummy and though I’d made some questionable choices I wasn’t a bitch like that I wouldn’t have done that to any woman – even ‘Jessica’. If Robbie and I were going to be together there was no way I was going to be easy, I didn’t want to be like that, I’d learnt from my mistakes? Robbie wouldn’t have thought like that though but still, I wasn’t doing it, I was going to attempt self-respect in some areas of my life – even if there was none in my ‘work’ life.

I was actually pretty put off sex, I was around it 24/7 and it had started to knock me sick, most men had started to make me angry too and I had begun to stop believing that the men coming through the flat were a ‘small percentage’ of the male population. In fact quite the contrary, I realised most men coming through wouldn’t have been described as the ‘type’ to see escorts but that’s just it, who is the ‘type’? Us girls saw them all; truckers, barristers, factory workers who travelled from Ellesmere port to spend their wages, politicians , business men, footballers as well as Police officers.

One notorious criminal in Liverpool used to book girls all the time to various hotels in the city centre, I had no idea who he was but the girls explained quickly realising he wasn’t ‘small-time’. I’d not known it but I had bumped into him whilst walking to the shop one time and Susie had said it was him, he’d developed a bit of a ‘thing’ for me, always trying to persuade me on dates with him. I knew he was a ‘wrongun’ and he definitely terrified me, so much so I’d crane my head out the flat’s Juliet balcony to check he wasn’t standing outside the shop so I could go in peace without fear of being harassed. I’ve always known crazy when I came across it, he was always coked-up, agitated and paranoid, one time during my hospital stay I’d sent Susie off to him but this time he was in a shit-hole hotel. Susie had text me saying she was scared and was leaving, she was never scared so I knew this was bad – turns out he choked her threatening her that she’d better do as he said. I believed her. Susie never lied. A few days before I’d gotten sick I’d gone to get provisions for the girls from the corner shop, two pubs at the end of the road stand opposite each other and he was stood outside on that hot summers day on his phone. As I went to walk past wit my head down he grabbed me. Nobody had ever grabbed me like that before, hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt genuinely fearful

“Darling, where you going? I’ve not seen you in ages, why don’t you call me ever?”

“Oh sorry I’ve been working non-stop, I promise to call you soon”

“Babes, you wouldn’t need to work if you were my girl, take my new number now, where you off to now?”

“To the shop then I’m back to work, I will call”

“Ok make sure you do beautiful, I’m off, the fucking Busies are flying round here and I can’t put me ma through this shit again, don’t forget to call me tonight”

Promising him I was going to call him hopefully was enough for him to believe me and piss off hounding me, I’d never been good with saying no to men either, worried that rejecting their advances would hurt their feelings or make them mad so I’d given in many times before to men who made my skin crawl. I was glad he was the type to have a new number every couple of days, was he being paranoid about the police looking for him or not? No idea, but what I did know was there was a bloody helicopter circling and I didn’t want to be in their eye-line so was lucky to have escaped his grip on my hip that day. Now he was the type to use our services, I sensed danger all around him yet he was handsome and charming in his own way. Not long ago I saw him on the TV coming across as a totally different character to what I had known.

One more day to wait until I saw my true love, excited was an understatement; I was so glad that the hospital had given me an outpatient’s appointment for that afternoon. I was going to skip it and instead go to his then get home in time to get back on the phones. I had two precious hours alone with him until ‘R’ would start bitching at me again. I realised how much I’d enjoyed my break in hospital, though terrified and sweating like a beast it had been such a relief from this hellish existence and the only thing keeping me going was Robbie and the belief that what ‘R’ was doing was wrong and I would put a stop to it. It had been so busy in the flat in the few days I’d been back and was feeling exhausted already but hadn’t been tempted by the coke offered to me immediately upon my return. Susie seemed to be sniffing a lot more these days; her light was dimming more each day. ‘R’ said it was busier now because the poor sex-starved men had survived the summer holidays with their wives and kids and were now desperate, oh the poor men. Bastards. Angel was coining it in still and Ash’s bookings had soared because the disgusting ‘men’ seemed to be into hot felons. I started working it into my sales pitch too! We all found this hilarious making jokes that maybe we should all go out and commit some crimes as crime paid. I wondered if anything else could shock me. A part of me hoped not yet I was always intrigued by their odd requests and fantasies.

During my teens I’d developed some OCD tendencies, one included praying seven times each night that I would live a long, happy, successful life (I actually chanted those words) and then I’d cross the fingers on my left hand at the same time. If I messed up I’d start again and wouldn’t sleep until I was satisfied it had been done correctly. Now at night I found I was chanting again but this time it was

“Please help me get out and make everything ok and ‘R’ go to jail and let me live a long happy successful life”

Love Lo xx

I’m a fuck up get me out of here! Part X

I’m in love for the first time. That teenage shit isn’t the same as this. This is deep and meaningful and I knew it was after he’d asked for my ‘Facebook’. I casually gave him my add (I say casually but we all know inside I was screaming with delight), and quickly sifted through pics to find one where I considered myself to be ‘Hot’ there was none. I’d decided he was my Richard Gere, and I Julia Roberts as ‘Viv’ except somehow spending sprees and polo were probably not on the agenda. I was over the moon with the gifts he’d got me from ‘The Asda’. Omg I’d totally forgotten to mention! After the two hours we’d spent together where he sat on a cleaners stool in my infected ‘cell’ we’d totally connected and the next day (his day off btw) he bought me in a stack of DVDs one being Bram Stoker’s Dracula, magazines and a cute teddy bear as well as a card that I still have (I’m sentimental these days as I have nothing from my childhood due to mum and dads house being repossessed – everything had gone). This time it was pure love and I was ok with being a modern day ‘Pretty Woman’ though it went against what I thought I believed in. He was better than Richard Gere anyway, he’d risked awkward questions and raised eyebrows from the other nurses when coming in to see me on his day off. I felt like the luckiest girl alive whenever he was around but I did feel bad too, I felt for his wife and son because I hated women like me….

Meanwhile, my ‘spike’ had stabilised however I wasn’t really getting better or at least docs didn’t think I was. I’d made little progress considering all the combinations of drugs they’d seem to have tried. Just as I was settling down to Jeremy Kyle in the afternoon, a herd of Drs waltzed in! They hadn’t even knocked and to be honest this made me quite cross! What if I’d have been naked?! Jesus that was rude! These Docs were from ‘The Tropical School of Medicine’ and they’d been sent by Dr.Fox (yes his real name) to see if I had had some crazy disease that they’d never seen before. The longer I was in there the more the crazy ideas I had about my illness, in 2005 when living in Pahiatua (the weirdest dump I’ve ever lived in) I’d been bitten by a white tail spider, my leg swelled and track marks had started to appear down one thigh. My mistake was to have left my window open at night, which was always something I took for granted growing up in rural Norfolk. Did I know I’d been bitten? Hell no! Only when I went to the doctors feeling unwell with a huge boil at the top of my right thigh did I find out. It popped later after the visit where I’d received a rather large needle in my arse cheek and apart from the scar I’d never thought about it since. Could it have caused some horrendous disease that laid dormant only to reappear and kill me off shutting down each and every one of my organs?! I fucking hoped not! Christ please no!

I told the tropical medicine guys about the spider, instead they quizzed me more on the country’s I’d visited; England, New Zealand and Borneo as well as 8 hours in Abu Dhabi on my journey back but nothing crazy where I’d needed pills before going! I’d lived in NZ since 2003 and it was now 8 years later, surely the spider’s venom didn’t lay dormant for that long? Maybe it did and that it came out when victims were stressed to hell? They poked and prodded and came up with illnesses I’d never heard of (which for a self-proclaimed hypochondriac was saying something) Brucelosis or TB or possible swine flu? I considered myself a bit of a pig so to me that made sense! Either way they’d made a decision they were going to treat me with a generalised anti-biotic that would make all three of those beastly diseases piss right off! Thank fuck!

A little while later some strong af anti-biotic had been intravenously administered making me sick all night, for four hours actually. I had small bruises on my knees from spending so long on them, my legs have always been skinny but were ‘pins’ due to the fact I’d not held a single thing down for weeks. When I woke up I was a mess, I probably looked like someone who had spent all night partying with Michael Hutchins, my hair limp and smelling like stale digestives and sick, my mouth was dryer than a… well you know the saying 😉

Not a single drop of sweat crept out of my body the next day after spewing all night and I’d even inhaled a ham sandwich from the cart. I use the word ‘Ham’ loosely, it probably contained more eyes and lips as it was processed to shit it looked more like ‘luncheon’ the type they make into a bears face for kids, a nasty bright shade of pink, oh well it had tasted bloody lovely.

Serena had been texting me the ‘goss’ regularly from the flat and keeping me up to speed on the girls and ‘R’. It had turned out Ashleigh had gone out a few weeks earlier whilst she was supposed to be ‘working’ and she’d gotten ‘on it’ punching a bouncer, the police had turned up and arrested her. She’d been charged and spent the night in the cells. Ash had only just come clean about this as the courts had decided an electronic tag was the only was she was gonna learn, it was getting fitted the following Monday. Ash needed to earn and learn but she’d been shitting herself about wearing the tag and working! I couldn’t believe she was even contemplating working! Ash, did earn a lot and ‘R’ had been freaking out that he’d lose a tonne of money. Or was she was perhaps going to ‘tell’ on him? I doubted it; I knew that was going to be my job. He was always so paranoid people would hear the girls in the flat which I thought was strange considering he reinforced the fact prostitution was in fact legal in the UK every single goddamn day to me, It was like he recited it reassure himself like dictators do- enforcing their propaganda. Serena told me Ash was distraught because she couldn’t work, but not because she’d been arrested! Oh well at least her and ‘R’ were in the same frame of mind, she wanted to work! I couldn’t wait to get better but not because I was desperate to work, though I was desperate for money and at the age of 26 all I had to my name was my back pay from the benefits, literally not a bean more. I had no idea why I still sometimes tried to kid myself I was better than these women; I was their equal if anything I was lower, shunning opportunities I’d had that they hadn’t, I only tried to convince myself I was because it made me feel better, truth was I needed the money and could totally sympathise with Ash and the others; whether I liked it or not the girls were my friends now and I weirdly missed them, especially Serena and Susie.

Susie had been sending me the odd text asking if I was ok I could hear her funny sounding adopted Scouse accent whenever she said ‘Love’ through her thick Hungarian tone. Every time she text it said ‘Hi Love. You ok, when you back? Kisses’ she never did ‘XX’ she always wrote the word. Susie was so sweet I felt she understood me, I felt behind her tough ‘take no shit’ persona that she too had begun to hate the men she saw. This shit was wearing down the toughest girl I bet could do this ’job’ and that wasn’t good to see. I really couldn’t help but like Ash and I felt without me the girls wouldn’t earn what they needed and that upset me too. I wanted them to get their ‘goal’ so they could get the fuck out, we all had ‘goals’ but the posts moved every time we ran out of money. On the times Ash and I worked alone together she was sweet, so naturally pretty and I realised the shit she got off her family for what she did. One minute they all supported her especially when she was buying them 50inch screen TVs or iphones, or when she was clothing her sibling’s ‘baby’. She’d even spent 4k on her own ‘baby’s’ christening and she’d gone all out even having a special dress handmade to wear; it was back when the ‘greek goddess’ was banging in Liverpool, long, white with a gold detail on the high neck, she had looked so elegant when we’d gone along, invited as her ‘friends’. It was a lovely afternoon and she knew how to put on a spread. It had made me see a strong survival instinct in her and I admired her more after that. I’d seen first hand the people in her life and who she did it for. She was a good girl. They used her meaning everyone else she came across often did too including ‘R’, he exploited the fact she was young, ‘dumb’ and a single mum. I was just like Ash though sans bebė, we came from different backgrounds but we were similar, having felt the immense pressure to get my family out the shit since mum had gotten ill choices were made all along the way.

There had been a new girl added to the workload though and Serena told me her name was ‘Babyfaced_Angel’ or ‘Angel’ for short, she was super young looking and ‘R’ had bought her over to the flat. She had jet-black hair and the face of a pre-teen. It made me sick and it was obvious to me he was a predator and a serious one too, not one Id fabricated in my head as I’d told myself often I had. Serena said she’d had bookings all day and during the hour and a half she hadn’t been in one, ‘R’ had taken liberties. He helped himself because he couldn’t help himself.

Two more sweat-free days went by and Dr’s promised that just one more and I could go home. I shit myself, elated, but terrified, ‘R’ had hounded me the past two days with manipulation tactics, passive aggressiveness and outright threats. Serena had told me he had been frequenting the flat more since I’d been unwell and his behaviour becoming more erratic and unprofessional. Though he was nothing more than a pimp he had held some credibility with an air of professionalism in the beginning. I knew with all bad people it was only a matter of time until they let their true colours blind you, and even though I knew went along for the ride to the inevitable destination; a glutton for punishment.

Bald-nursey had sent me a cryptic message on fb asking me for ‘advice’ ha! Who the hell would ask me for advice, that was hilarious but obviously he didn’t really know me yet. In some roundabout way I figured out what he was saying, he was saying he liked me so much he’d not stopped thinking about me and said as much. I felt all hot again, but in a good way, fuck that sounds so crap! I had burning in my thighs like never before and If only I had Jilly Cooper’s talents I’d describe it like that for you.

I needed one more ‘Spike-free, sweat-free’ day; I needed bald-nursey to leave his wife in the kindest way possible and ‘R’ to fall off a massive fuck-off cliff. I had given myself 48 hours for all three to happen or I was even more up shit creek. I needed a plan to get out of two situations and into one.

Love Lo xx

 

 

 

Boomerang Girl; Part IX

Hello, and greetings! I bet your wondering how many times it took me to get the roman numerals right on this one? Well all of about 30 seconds because Google is my BFF!

So my spike; well it had dropped a bit and it had now gone from ‘raging and ravaging’ to only ‘assertively trying to kill me’ which was much better! My thighs were no longer sweating, just my pits, tits and bits. Winning. I’d even had a visit from Aunty A and she’d bought me bananas, grapes, ginger beer (non-alcoholic obvz) as well as a pull out from the ‘Daily Mail’ on ‘How to dress like Kate’. Well thanks for the thought Aunty A but I’d need about 10 years in finishing school another 4 stone gone as well as to throw out all my short skirts and leopard print and I just wasn’t prepared to do that! I was more likely to succeed at being like Pat Butcher than friggin Kate Middleton who had recently married ole Will!  I guess it was her weird way of trying to be kind and help me through a difficult time, and lets face it she had no idea why I was really in there and she’d have died if she did.  Deep down inside her she’s the kindest lady I know besides when I’d had my lovely mum and granny around.

I’ve digressed sufficiently now.

I’d also had another visit too but this time by ‘Dec’ a lovely chap who had long hair and a beard who totally resembled Jesus. He obviously fancied me and I wanted to like him too but I just didn’t, it was a shame as he was kind and funny he’d even bought me in a poem that he not only wrote but I’ve still got! Dec and I had met one night in Southport when I was with ‘Baya’ and ‘J’, he’d been cool, danced like Austin Powers and asked for my number (we know I can’t say no right?). I’m glad I hadn’t said NO, Im glad that he came to see me that day armed with pound-shop treats his dog-eared expression of adoration for me and most of all because he nipped to the Macdonald’s and came back with a ‘Fillet O’ Fish’. Fuck yeh! Total winner! I’d never met a guy who’d done anything so kind like that before, James had always mumbled ‘Get it ya self’. Nice.

Life was looking brighter but I still had that bastard ‘R’ hounding me to death and now I knew where the expression ‘He’ll be the death of me’ came from. I was convinced this might ring true here though I hoped not. I’d asked Dec to do me a favour and bring me some forms from the job-centre as I had decided I was going to apply for job seekers allowance and when I was out of this hell hole I wasn’t going to go back to another. The little sweet thing had done and in a few days I’d been told that while I was incapacitated in hospital I would be able to getting a back- payment of nearly £700!! Woop woop! I was a millionaire and ‘R’ could go fuck him-self and not some poor young girl for a change! Though we know that wasn’t going to happen the scumbag.

I’d worked out it was the love of my life married bald nursey’s shift tonight too and had, had this confirmed by miserable Anne who was one of the day shift nurses. I couldn’t work out if Anne was so miserable she resembled a living Eeeyore or whether she was sarcastic af and just hilariously funny. How could I look attractive in hospital I wondered? Maybe I should try to knock something sexy up from my open back paper gown and hope he likes it? Jesus he’d already seen me at my possible worst (hopefully and surely it cannot get worse?). I had no makeup with me, as it had been the last thing on my mind when I took myself off to A&E 4 weeks earlier. Oh well, I could only dream anyway as he was taken and not just ‘taken’ he was married and I needed to remember that because I had wanted to rip the eyes out of the girls that James had been dipping into. Every single one of them I’d hated, and especially Clare who’d moonlighted as a good friend too, I’d felt betrayed, sick to the very pit of my stomach vowing to never to do that to another woman as it was pure evil. So for now I was ok with him touching my wrist and talking to me softly and giving me tingles (yes, he did give me tingles and not the type you rude lot might be thinking). As mentioned before, I’ve never been the type of female to have ever dreamt of ‘happily ever after’ and thought more about how successful I would be. Fairy tales to me had been fantasylands filled with animals that spoke, they certainly didn’t include tall handsome bald nurses. I had never ever dreamt of a big white wedding, and the one I’d had with James had made me feel very silly/anxious and embarrassed on the day and not because I knew I was marrying someone I was going to divorce but because I felt like a dick. I still marvel at beautiful wedding dresses but the idea of spending a shit tonne of money and wearing white just doesn’t sit well with me, its like wrapping yourself up as a fucking gift to a man! I’m not a gift babe; I’m a goddamn queen!

I saw his big tall shadow looming outside my door ‘Yuss’ he was coming to do my Obs obvz! Phew! My ginger beer bottle and two ‘Get well’ soon cards sat there pride of place on my little pull out dinner table attached to my bed. He smiled and said I was looking better, it was August 14th and I felt like I had to write it down like Cadie did in ‘Mean Girls’ but I didn’t. I just smiled and thanked him whilst being painfully awkward and British by replying with

“Thanks, so do you”

I mean he hadn’t needed to look better like I had but I said it, just like when someone wished me Happy Birthday and I said it back like the douche bag I am. This time he did look better, more handsome, mature, and a little rough and like a real man. Sure he was thin but he wasn’t puny, he could definitely save me from ‘R’.

That night I felt happier, the happiest I had felt in a long time, I wasn’t on the phones at night so that was a bonus but I felt calmer and it was because of him. It was this calming demeanour he had that soothed me, maybe it was because I did genuinely love him, It wasn’t the type of ‘love’ or lust I had felt before as a naive young girl who was simply vying for the attention from some undesirable who just happened to show me some. What most guys before him had wanted was to get their end away, and I quickly realised it wasn’t because they liked me it was because most hot-blooded males in their late teens and early twenties can’t bloody help themselves! I had my fair share of those dick heads and this time I was dealing with a man; in hindsight the BS I’d had from James had made me learn what I did’t want. My heart had been broken into millions of tiny pieces during that time and (cliche but true) I’d played a mixture of Carol King and Neyo’s love songs (wtf right?) on repeat whilst crying into some shit mug of weak tea. It took months but finally I was over the idea of ‘needing’ a man so this time I felt (though in the worst position of my life in other areas) quietly confident when it came to dealing with love interests. No more chasing them, texting them back and wondering when they would reply, no more fucking games! I just wish I’d have been able to treat ‘R’ that way too, its weird how shit scared I was really of him, he who really was puny and certainly didn’t act in anyway shape or form like a man!

Calm, serene and content I felt that night, waiting for round two of ‘obs’, there was a lump in my throat as I was so scared it would be another ‘nursey’ and maybe he’d have been tending to someone in a much more serious condition than mine, whatever mine was? He appeared for round two, I was over the moon, now was my chance to speak to him I thought and find out more.

“Hi, its nice to see you!”

“Its nice to see you too, why you still awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I hear everything in here and its difficult to doze off lately, plus whenever you come around I like it because I’m lonely”

“Do you want some sleeping pills? I can see if your allowed some? and why are you lonely? Have you no friends nor family to visit you, what about your husband?”

I explained briefly my situation regarding my parents and my twat of a husband.

“What about you? What does your wife do? And Haydn told me you have a son?”

“My wife is a nurse, but we don’t really see each other, we lead separate lives and my boy is my pride and joy, he’s nearly four”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that about you and your wife”

I wasn’t frikkin sorry!! I was bloody ecstatic!!! I felt cured! Like when you see those people on God Channel (yes I watched at times because it made me giggle) who are suddenly cured and can walk, then leap out their wheel chair. I wanted to leap out the bed, kiss him on the lips for him to then carry me in his arms into the sunset. But not the Southport sunsets as its grim, but somewhere nice, somewhere beautiful like Cornwall or Norfolk. It was destiny.

That night he stayed in my room for two hours; we laughed and joked about stupid things, which luckily we both found so funny. My humour is ridiculous and I’d been watching embarrassing bodies on the hospital TV which we then pissed ourselves at too (cruel considering the state of my boobs). He asked me what my dreams were and I found myself saying things I’d never said before such as wanting a quiet life in the country with a couple of kids and Golden Retrievers. Most days Id spend my time writing best sellers and he’d do the same, it sounded bliss and until this day I’d never wanted any of that with anyone; just the Retrievers and lots of them.

I was getting better, he was breathing life back into me but I was so scared to leave now, as I knew it meant going back to my life with ‘R’ having full control over his harem of girls.

Not only did I have dreams of a happy marriage and wonderful life, but also I dreamt also of the police locking that rapist pimp up and being done with him. He’d get what he deserved, surely? Call me evil too, but I even fantasised about the abuse he’d get behind bars; I’d heard the general prison population disliked sex offenders a great deal, especially the kiddy fiddler ones. The police would help me, I just knew it, I mean after all I’d convinced myself I was doing no harm or was I? I realised I wasn’t just not sleeping because of my illness, but that in fact my mystery illness had been spurred on by my conscience. Thank fuck I have one. I wrestled with that bitch 24/7, every single moment in time that passed I thought of his crimes. Sitting wondering how I’d been silent and remembering a phrase I’d read once ‘Silence is Violence’. I had to do something, but then who was going to believe someone like me? Nobody. I’d just have to get out of it all myself and pretend it had never happened. I was a ‘boomerang’ girl I’d have to go back to him until Id worked out my plan.

Love Lo xxx

 

 

Reasons to stay alive; Part VIII

He was the reason I should keep inhaling and exhaling, the reason I wanted my ‘spike’ to come down so I could get better and we could run away together. He was also the reason I wanted to stay there forever, forever being nursed by him.

My heart sank. He was married too. I’d even cheekily asked if he was still with his wife to which ‘Haydn’ replied “Yes he’s married, lives with his wife and kid”.

“Oh”.

I didn’t really know what else to say to that, that was the end of it for me. No happily ever after saved by my prince who was going to help me out of this shitty mess. My spike could sky rocket for all I cared, no one gave a shit and I felt so fucking miserable.

Haydn was the other male nurse on the ward, he was small ,thin and very tanned, in fact I’d genuinely thought he was Asian until I was informed he’d just been to Cyprus. That to some of you might make me sound bad, but it was an innocent observation and he even later on told me “Nobody believes I’m English”. Phew it wasn’t just me then! Haydn was funny, he whistled and sort of sauntered in and out of my room with a very happy disposition, I’d not only assumed he was Asian but I’d also convinced myself he was gay too, which was because Id never met such a happy smiley bloke before (I was very presumptuous and naive back then, thats what a Norfolk countryside childhood did to me).

Anyways I was crushed, my heart was in some black hole knowing it would never be loved and I was dying and that was ok because as I mentioned I felt like a total loser and an absolute joke. My friends from school were working high powered jobs or marrying rich folk in the city and doing exactly what it is was they were supposed to be doing. Clare was marrying a professional sportsman, Lizzie was working in Dubai and running her own PR firm (Daddy had been a PR superstar in London) and the rest of them were ‘lunching’ in London together talking about life and forgetting about me. I didn’t fit their circle, I never really did to be honest, I never felt good enough/rich enough or posh enough and now my situation proved my point.

For three nights in a row he’d attended to me, touched my wrist so gently it sent shivers up my sweaty body sort of like when someone strokes your hair and it feels lovely. This felt lovely too but in a way that I wanted him to never stop. He’d ask me if I wanted anymore water in his west country burr, of course I did! I had been constantly thirsty since arriving but also wanted water because I wanted him to have to come back in my room again. The first three nights he asked me a few questions such as where my family were, what did I do; normal everyday questions that were very embarrassing for me.

“Oh I work as a receptionist in a brothel” Yeh it wasn’t exactly going to go down well so I figured I’d lie and tell him I still worked in fashion. He’d probably seen my notes but was just being polite.

I was completely infatuated with this tall, skinny, tattoo covered bald headed male nurse! He wasn’t even my type, I usually liked hair ;). On his right forearm (the skin I did see was very hairy which I found odd considering he was so bald) was a tattoo of the Union Jack and what I thought looked like a monkey from the ‘Planet of the Apes’ until he laughed and told me it was a lion.

The next night he was gone, I was pining for him like a teenage girl, distressed and emotionally drained. I didn’t want blonde nursey, I didn’t want happy Haydn I just wanted him. For four nights I cried myself to sleep I had no idea where he’d gone and wondered if he was ever coming back.

I wasn’t just crying myself to sleep because he’d gone and disappeared off the face of the Earth but I was still frightened and had no idea how to get out of ‘R’s’ grips. In those 5 lonely days and 4 hellish nights ‘R’ had the balls to visit me in hospital, he’d given me the  main ‘work’ phone now and expected me to continue to make bookings via the BBM channel. Of course I didn’t say no, I couldn’t say no and by now you know this is my issue. Can’t say no to giving people money when Im skint, I can’t say no to lending a friend I know either wont give my dress back after wearing it out or the type to return it  with ciggie burns and I certainly couldn’t say no to drugs when I was that low and frightened to fall asleep in case I’d missed a booking. ‘R’ like many sociopaths and world class manipulators made me feel he was doing me a massive favour by giving me the responsibility of the phone whilst I dying in my isolated hospital bed! I should feel grateful, proud that no one back at flat 16 was as good as me at getting the girls punters! Jesus Christ what a friggin talent I had. How grateful I should feel that he wanted me back and like he kept saying “Your talented! You should be so happy I’m keeping your job open for you”.

We all know it wasn’t a real job; there was no security, no tax, no sick pay, no holiday pay nothing but stress and palpitations. I have to say since getting my first job aged 13 I have had my fair share of shit narcissistic wanker bosses and ‘R’ wasn’t the last either. From side room 7, Ward 15 at Southport and Ormskirk NHS trust hospital I was running 50 girls single handedly from my bed. I’d say at least 20 at the Liverpool apartment and around another 30 dotted over the North West but predominantly the rest were holed up in an apartment in Manchester City centre above the Premier Inn.

I’d managed to get out of night shift which started at 9pm and stopped at 8am! Lucky me. I’d had to say no to that part because most of time I was drifting in and out of consciousness after my meds at 9pm. Yum, Tramadol, codeine and an IV line to stave off the spike! Best bit about hospital besides him. 

I was exhausted, still sweating like a Bitch, still ‘down-Lo’ and still no closer to getting away from ‘R’ or getting closer to the other ‘R’ aka ‘Him’. That glimmer of hope, that fantasy of having a normal, stable, happy successful life was once again gone in the blink of an eye. Doctors were still totally clueless as to what I had and I’d refused point blank to let them do a lumbar puncture! Absolutely fuck that! Didn’t they know I’d read every single ‘Take a Break’ magazine my mum had ever bought and I’d read many times about how those dreaded needles the size of a telegraph pole pierced your spine and in some horror cases paralysed you! I’d told them “just treat me for what you think it is please” but they’d told me it wasn’t that simple. So for now it was plenty of antibiotics via IV and pain killers for the constant horrendous migraines that woke me up every morning just before the noise of that bastard phone did reminding me it was now my ‘shift’.

I needed to tell someone, I just had to. Maybe if I couldn’t have him he’d be my friend anyway and I could get him to listen to me offering perhaps some sound advice. Then again I didn’t want him to think of me as another ‘fuck up’ one thing I’d learnt is that blokes don’t like crazy according to James who’d told me daily I was crazy as well as having AIDs

Worryingly now Id started to freak out that I actually did, that working in that environment had somehow given me a new air borne strain.

Fuck sake, I just had to pray for a miracle.
Thanks for reading my blog you bunch of beauties xxx stay tuned for the next part

I’m not dead: Part VII

First of all I’d like to admit My knowledge of Roman numerals is shocking and before every blog post I google this shit! Enjoy!

For most people the idea of 4 weeks in hospital sounds like hell; for me it was fucking bliss! I felt safe, I was fed 3 times a day and I was warm at night (ok so not just because of my through-the roof temperature). On one hand I was petrified because I really did feel like microwaved shite, convinced I was dying and baffling doctors even more by the day; and then there was the other side that left me feeling elated, free and finally able to get the fuck away from that psycho ‘R’.

It was day 3 and I showed no signs of getting better, my temperature was still ‘spiked’ (if I had a quid for every time I heard that friggin word) and I was still shitting through the eye of a needle, spewing my ring and screaming at the nurses to get me a fucking ice bucket! Apparently they don’t have an ice machine in hospitals which I still find absurd! I was sweating my pre-enhanced tits off, well it was dripping off my chest and even my thighs, I mean who the hell knew your thighs could sweat? Mine had never sweat before but now even my eyelids were sweaty and I lusted after a cube of ice like you couldn’t believe. I now knew how Renton felt in trainspotting and I needed a fucking hit (of ice not coke or meth) but instead I settled for Luke-warm tap water. My aunt was away and they’d called my ‘next of kin’ who happened to be my first husband still at the time. A blonde smiley nurse came in with a phone on wheels, it looked like it was from 1985 “your husband is on the phone'” my fucking what?! The bloody cheek of him! Still nevertheless I took the call hoping someone was going to feel sorry for me. Yet again I was wrong and instead he spoke to me like a piece of shit telling me that I’d got AIDs from being a whore. James ALWAYS called me a whore long before I’d ever ventured into this world so in hindsight, if you call someone something enough they will bloody become it. I need to explain that James was a weird germaphobe and always telling me in arguments that I was riddled with AIDS which I found most peculiar though it all made sense when going through his sock drawer that fateful day I caught him out after I found a specimen pot in a plastic sandwich bag with a laboratory form ordering tests for 1. The clap, 2. The ‘HIV’ and a load of other diseases that hadn’t been discussed at my rather lovely private all girls school (though shout out to Mrs Gafford who was a gem!). What the hell was he worrying about having all these crazy STDs when he was only sleeping with me? Oh right, hmmm yeh he wasn’t! Turns out me and miss waif-like blonde weren’t the only girls and in fact he’d not only ordered these tests from the GP but his other girlfriend had mentioned in a text I’d found on his phone that she too was taking a test;  a whole different type of test though! Yup! You got it! She was possibly up the duff! Great.

Anyways I’ve digressed again but you guys needed to know that bit I felt. So I’m in hospital with a ‘spike n’ a half’ and I’m still dying though I’m not dead. Thank fuck. I’m terrified of dying as you lot already know. So day 3, no one has visited me and of course they’re not going to, I was being silly, blonde nursey was sweet but I was in ‘isolation’ as they didn’t know what type of lurgey it was I had so I had little human contact. By the way you also need to know I’m in my hospital bed being harassed to fuck by ‘R’ on the ‘work’ phone (your probably wondering why I’m even bothering but he petrified me) he’s asking me when I’m back and I kept telling him I was really sick wishing he’d believe me. That afternoon a nice nursey pops into my room, she’s small with cropped hair and mum like demeanour. ‘Kath’ (yes her real name!) asks me if I can think of anything that could have caused me to get ill? Urmmmmmm ….

I start to cry, tears streaming down my face, salty little drops of misery and regret landing in the corners of my mouth (probably the only nourishment I’d had in a while). Kath is a total Hun and she’s telling me it’s all going to be ok, and I wanted to believe her sooo badly, in fact I wanted her to adopt me right there and then. I told Kath most of it, mainly about the drugs and how miserable I was and even admitted that I was for the most of it (meaning during my drug taking) suicidal. Yes, I have a fear of dying but I had also been very suicidal wondering what the hell I was doing and wanting to never wake up again, I couldn’t believe I was even in this position to begin with it wasn’t supposed to happen to me I just really wanted my mum even at the age of 26. I had the perfect opportunity back then to tell Kath about ‘R’ as I knew what he was doing was criminal and that he was a evil bastard rapist but I was too scared still.  After an hour of Kath comforting me she left my side and in came a gaggle of doctors staring down at me firing questions at me I don’t remember whilst prodding my stomach. Another IV line fitted with different drugs to try and bring down this bastard spike. They left and I drifted off until I was woken by a terrifying bald figure standing there looming over me and holding my wrist.

It was the night shift and this nursey was a bloke! A gruffly 6ft odd bloke with a bald head and the most soothing voice that sounded like he’d just finished ploughing his fields in Cornwall. Wow. I was definitely high on the all the drugs I was being pumped with but this bloke was beautiful and an overwhelming indescribable feeling of ‘he’s mine’ came over me. He held my wrist so gently and told me he found it easier to take my pulse that way than using “those bloody machines”.

Love at first sight is real and I wanted to stay awake all night just so I could speak to him when  he returned. I was already technically married but I was going to marry this man……

stay tuned

Love Lo xx