This isn't so much about me, but its her anniversary and she's a big part of me story..She spoke like a pikey bare knuckle boxer swung blows, she was as beautiful as rain and she was my friend. She is my friend.
Her beauty was complex, inside and out. If you looked closely,her face betrayed her, her very soul bore every violent act upon it. It showed in her smile, in her laugh. But only if you knew, if not she was just moody, beautiful moody. I stupidly believed because she was hurting, if I took some of that on and helped it'd make it better, for both of us. Unfortunately, life just doesn't work like that. Things don't happen just because you'd like them too, more's the pity.
Follow me reader, on a story of sorrow, through the streets like veins flooding into the city, to sunny hackney. I tell you now, this will end brutally. Redemption is not here, just my broken heart laid bare in East London's red light district.
Lola begun prostituting after she left home at 15, we met two years later in the plasticky smoke of a crack house on commercial road. She helped me distract the dealer, nothing but eye contact between us to convey the message of what was about to go down. It went well, I got three white when I'd payed for one. A friendship and heartbreak was sealed there.
Lola was known everywhere, from strip clubs and parlours in Soho to flats in deepest south London, and that's what caused all the trouble. Our addiction formed together, she took me into the underworld. I loved it.
We partied with gangsters and rock stars, Lola always sorting me out with hotel rooms. So when she asked me to drive her around the flats, come up and get the cash- check she was ok, score and meet her back at a set time I was more than happy to do it. But Lola was playing a dangerous game, so more dangerous than I knew..
Turns out she started to dip the clients, ripping off the wrong people, borrowed too much cash. She got a call, all was cool she said so I left and when I came back she was on the pavement bleeding really badly, unconscious. I jumped out the motor, leaving it still running and tried to pull her up and that was when I saw her face. It was smashed to pieces, someone called an ambulance and I put her in the recovery position. Fractured skull, broken jaw, broken arm, broken ribs, she was put into a coma in the hospital because her body wouldn't cope with the pain. I received a phonecall telling me that this was merely a warning, she was to fuck off out of London, if she survived...
When it became apparant Lola was going to survive, I got her a place in rehab in Bristol. Phoenix futures or some shite, she went. She left after two days and I heard nothing for six months... I got on with life, as much as I could. I was a raving junkie by then, so I made my own way but that's another story.
Lola got involved in porn movies up in Bristol, really nasty stuff, dressing her up to look like a child, whipping and beating her, choking her unconscious and filming them fucking her. She tried to show me one day, I lasted two minutes and that was a push. The tv/DVD combo went over the balcony, DVD still inside. Fuck, I had forgotten about that.
Anyway, she got in the same trouble but saw her dilemma and ran home. I put her up, I wish I hadn't. Maybe she would still be here.
She started street work, needing me even more as she was weak after the previous attack and scared and the women seemed to sense that and would attack her trying to get her to move elsewhere. No, you fuck off grandma!
I also took the cash before she left with a punter, in a car or around the corner to the church yard, as quite often they decided they didn't want to pay up. It also let the guys know she had someone watching out for her, because they could really scare her. Forcing her to do things, hitting her, trying to rob her.
But she told me it was the guys who thought they were OK, Mr Nice, trying to stroke her, kiss her, touch her hair, like they knew her. Like they owned her. She would often creep from my sofa into bed with me, so as not to be alone, to be held by someone - you know?
So when we got the chance to clip someone, we would. Clipping is basically leaving with the punters money without paying, and we thought we were so fucking clever. Lola would bolt whenever she could to our pre arranged place, I'd sit there praying she would turn up and not be subjected to the filth of mankind. Dirty, smelly men with severe self entitlement issues. Sometimes I'd help, I'd run around wherever they were and shout 'POLICE' and she could run then. That's what happened that fateful.June night. He was a trucker, met him outside Mc Donalds in the carpark. He actually propositioned me, but Lola gave me the wink and walked him off. I knew my part, this had been our clip park recently as truckers came and went so regularly it was easy pickings. Nothings easy pickings, let me tell you. Nothing.
But that night we got away, £40 he paid for sex and Lola dipped his wallet. That night seems like a movie in my mind, its as if she knew... We drank and smoked, smoked, smoked. The Smith's on full blast, 'sing me to sleep'
God, this hurts so fucking bad, deep in the cell of my heart... There is a better world, there must be.. I remember her swinging around the room, all hair and heels, tits and teeth. Jesus, you'd have loved her, until she robbed you. She robbed everyone, even me in the end. But not in the same way..
The next month was much the same, Bob Dylan, somalian drug dealers, begging, stealing, borrowing, clipping, prostitution and drugs. So much crack we couldn't smoke it quick enough, so we started injecting it too. Snowballs, we thought we invented it! Ha ha.
Lola had this scam, we could sell chip and pin readers from shops £50 a go. Easy money, so we took a pair of pliers and snips to George in Asda and managed to get three. It was then the fatal mistake was made, I went to sell them just a mere 10 minutes from home but Lola didn't go home as agreed, she went to Mc Donalds car park and ran into the truck driver we clipped and robbed. All this I learnt much later, first I arrived home with the drugs and waited and waited. I done some drugs and went looking for her, a pointless excercise. She was long gone by then.
It took the police three days to take a report of her being missing and then they done sweet fuck all. It wasn't until her mutilated body, partially decomposed, turned up in a cement mixer that I heard anything. By then it'd been two weeks, I knew she had come a cropper. I heard the news report before the police rang, and I knew. I just knew, I was asked if I'D her but I couldn't do it. God, why am I crying- this was so long ago.
I feel bad I didn't I'D her, didn't see her but I couldn't. My imagination is bad enough from all the reports I heard.
They saw her being taken on CCTV, not much was made of it. A prostitute murdered? Par for the course, surely? No. No its not. She was just turned 20, as in three days previous to her killing. She was smoking her life goodbye, just to get high and we treated it as a game but even the winners lose it all I've come to learn. I miss you big head, I always have a pipe for you if you come back? I still owe you £75 ,
Ginger87 added 12 Minutes and 39 Seconds later...
No, I have nobody around me that knows my situation. I'm pretty isolated, I'm unsure how to help me.. it cheers me up to know you enjoy my writing though x
Ginger87 added 4 Minutes and 51 Seconds later...
Yeah having cash is a problem, I'm struggling at the moment. Drug use back to where it was before my last rehab stint in April. I've no motivation at the moment. Hopefully this blog takes off so I can start writing my book...