‘About Me’ the tab says! Well where do I start? I feel like I’m a person from nowhere and I have never had the opportunity to lay down roots. I was born to Army parents in Malta and soon after moved to Germany for a while then onto Singapore. I would be here all day if I were to rhyme them all off. Every few years another posting would come up and we would be on the move again! My travels have taken me all around the world. I’m a grown woman, shall we say a woman in her very early fifties! I’m a mother and a grandmother. I now live In Europe and have a life in the sun and a loving man by my side. In my forties I returned to further education and graduated from university with undergraduate and postgraduate degrees.
My writing 'career' has begun with Betrayal, plotting the next book already!
Below is a snippet of BETRAYAL
BETRAYAL
The man slapped Helen hard across the face, and grabbed her by the hair, throwing her onto the bed.
Helen could taste the blood spurting from her lip, and though she was aware he had slapped her hard, she felt no pain. She struggled to pull away and tried to curl her body into a ball for protection, but he was too strong for her. Helen was like a rag doll in his hands.
He easily overpowered her and began ripping the clothes from her body. The sadistic bastard was enjoying her pain, especially when he penetrated her. He thrust into her so hard she cried out. Fortunately, he had no stamina so it wasn’t long before his body slumped on top of her.
She pushed him away in disgust and jumped up from the bed. “Get out, Addie!” she screamed. “Get out!” Helen pulled a sheet around her naked, trembling body.
Addie began to laugh. “I’m not going anywhere until you give me what you owe me,” he said, as he sat up on the edge of the bed and began to get dressed. “Now, where’s my fucking money?”
Helen licked the blood from her bottom lip. “That’s rich. The punters usually pay me, not the other way around.”
“But I’m not a punter, I’m your fucking pimp, and don’t you forget it you little tramp.”
Helen knew what he had just done to her was a form of punishment, because she hadn’t handed over his share of the money. She worked the streets, and he was her controller. She also knew one of his roles was to provide protection for her from others, but he wanted his share of her earnings. His expectations were always high. She held out a wad of notes.
Addie grabbed the cash from her hand, and pointed his finger in her face.
“If you try to keep anything from me again,” he growled, “you’ll be fucking sorry.” With the threat hanging in the air, he walked to the door and slammed it behind him as he left.
*
Helen lay on the sofa feeling ill and sorry for herself. Since Addie’s visit to the bedsit, over a week ago, she had decided her life had to change. She knew the first thing she had to do was quit heroin, so she had started to wean herself off the drug. It wasn’t going to be easy.
It was her fifth day, and she wasn’t coping well. In an attempt to take her mind off her cravings, Helen thought about the way her life was turning out. At the age of 20, she realised it was getting worse, instead of better.
Her entire life revolved around drugs and prostitution. The more she prostituted herself: the more drugs she could score. It was a cycle she wanted to stop, something that had never been her choice in the first place. Sometimes Helen blamed it all on Addie, at other times she blamed some people from her past.
If I hadn’t run away from the care home to find Ash, I wouldn’t have met that bastard Addie!
Ash was an older boy Helen had befriended when they both lived Cranston Hall. She had felt safe and cocooned in their relationship. Unfortunately this had come to an end when he had left the home to live with a family somewhere in Gloucester. Helen had remembered looking for it on a map of England.
She was only 14-years-old when she ran away from the home. Addie had promised to look after Helen. “The Good Samaritan,” instead, he had taken advantage of her and had helped turn her into the wreck she had become.
Gripping pains interrupted her thoughts as she felt her stomach doing somersaults. She made a grab for the basin at the side of her bed and heaved last night’s pizza into it. She groaned aloud as she felt the stomach cramps begin to take hold. Aches and pains were ravaging her body - and not for the first time. Her insides felt as if they had knotted together.
Feeling like shit Helen thought a little hash might help her through the pain. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and rose up from the sofa. She frantically searched around. Helen hoped to find a bit she may have left lying around.
“God!” she cried out. “How the fuck is anyone meant to find anything in this shithole?”
What had once been a homely room was now a tip. When Helen had first moved in, she had cleaned it up. Overtime though, she had lost interest in it. Now, the bedsit looked worse than when she’d first set foot through the door.
*
My writing 'career' has begun with Betrayal, plotting the next book already!
Below is a snippet of BETRAYAL
BETRAYAL
The man slapped Helen hard across the face, and grabbed her by the hair, throwing her onto the bed.
Helen could taste the blood spurting from her lip, and though she was aware he had slapped her hard, she felt no pain. She struggled to pull away and tried to curl her body into a ball for protection, but he was too strong for her. Helen was like a rag doll in his hands.
He easily overpowered her and began ripping the clothes from her body. The sadistic bastard was enjoying her pain, especially when he penetrated her. He thrust into her so hard she cried out. Fortunately, he had no stamina so it wasn’t long before his body slumped on top of her.
She pushed him away in disgust and jumped up from the bed. “Get out, Addie!” she screamed. “Get out!” Helen pulled a sheet around her naked, trembling body.
Addie began to laugh. “I’m not going anywhere until you give me what you owe me,” he said, as he sat up on the edge of the bed and began to get dressed. “Now, where’s my fucking money?”
Helen licked the blood from her bottom lip. “That’s rich. The punters usually pay me, not the other way around.”
“But I’m not a punter, I’m your fucking pimp, and don’t you forget it you little tramp.”
Helen knew what he had just done to her was a form of punishment, because she hadn’t handed over his share of the money. She worked the streets, and he was her controller. She also knew one of his roles was to provide protection for her from others, but he wanted his share of her earnings. His expectations were always high. She held out a wad of notes.
Addie grabbed the cash from her hand, and pointed his finger in her face.
“If you try to keep anything from me again,” he growled, “you’ll be fucking sorry.” With the threat hanging in the air, he walked to the door and slammed it behind him as he left.
*
Helen lay on the sofa feeling ill and sorry for herself. Since Addie’s visit to the bedsit, over a week ago, she had decided her life had to change. She knew the first thing she had to do was quit heroin, so she had started to wean herself off the drug. It wasn’t going to be easy.
It was her fifth day, and she wasn’t coping well. In an attempt to take her mind off her cravings, Helen thought about the way her life was turning out. At the age of 20, she realised it was getting worse, instead of better.
Her entire life revolved around drugs and prostitution. The more she prostituted herself: the more drugs she could score. It was a cycle she wanted to stop, something that had never been her choice in the first place. Sometimes Helen blamed it all on Addie, at other times she blamed some people from her past.
If I hadn’t run away from the care home to find Ash, I wouldn’t have met that bastard Addie!
Ash was an older boy Helen had befriended when they both lived Cranston Hall. She had felt safe and cocooned in their relationship. Unfortunately this had come to an end when he had left the home to live with a family somewhere in Gloucester. Helen had remembered looking for it on a map of England.
She was only 14-years-old when she ran away from the home. Addie had promised to look after Helen. “The Good Samaritan,” instead, he had taken advantage of her and had helped turn her into the wreck she had become.
Gripping pains interrupted her thoughts as she felt her stomach doing somersaults. She made a grab for the basin at the side of her bed and heaved last night’s pizza into it. She groaned aloud as she felt the stomach cramps begin to take hold. Aches and pains were ravaging her body - and not for the first time. Her insides felt as if they had knotted together.
Feeling like shit Helen thought a little hash might help her through the pain. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and rose up from the sofa. She frantically searched around. Helen hoped to find a bit she may have left lying around.
“God!” she cried out. “How the fuck is anyone meant to find anything in this shithole?”
What had once been a homely room was now a tip. When Helen had first moved in, she had cleaned it up. Overtime though, she had lost interest in it. Now, the bedsit looked worse than when she’d first set foot through the door.
*