Same Game Different Players

I dropped out of school and ran away from home at 15 Years old. 

I was born and raised in Hackney, so I thought I'd seen and knew everything about the piss stained  pavements and gutter stenched streets I was proud to call home, but as it turned out I didn't know shit. 


A witness said a local drug dealer, Sweet-Boy, picked up all his new recruits and circled the block with them in his Mazda 3 a dozen times, plying them with blunts and Courvoisier to loosen them up before he ridded their small souls of their innocence. It didn’t take long for him to spot their victim, a young woman walking the streets alone at 23:19pm. He pulled over, got out and followed her. He pointed for two of his strongest goons to follow suite, all three of them lurking in the shadows as the darkness swallowed her. 

“Got ‘ya,” he snuck up behind her and pulled her hoodie up in one swift motion. Trapping her arms and head inside and knocked her onto the ground... 

Later that year Sweet-Boy disappeared, and two of his goons were found dead. 

Both the whiteness giving evidence and the victim were my friends. 


I am Special, and this is my story.