Hardit Singh's Blog, page 3

Bhai Balwant Singh Rajoana

If you hear the word Sikh, you may not realise that it is away of life for many people around the world. You also may not be aware that itis a lifestyle that is about spirituality and the service of humanity.

Bhai Balwant Singh Rajoana 
However, the word genocide is a term I'm sure you have comeacross and it has surfaced in our history numerous times. This is what ishappening in India as you read this. The calculated killings and injustice tohuman beings, who choose to live the Sikh way of life, is today's reality.
On March 31st a Sikh named Bhai Balwant Singh Rajoana, hasbeen sentenced to death and is to be hanged in India. To explain how events led tothis ruling here's a brief back story:
During the 1990s, the then Chief Minister of Punjab, BeantSingh, was responsible for the mass genocide of young Sikh men across Punjab.Balwant Singh Rajoana could bear the carnage no longer. He was involved inmasterminding a plan to execute the man responsible and save thousands ofinnocent lives. In August the Chief Minister's car was blown up and theminister was killed, no innocent people were injured or killed in this attack.
As a result the number of Sikh killings dropped dramaticallyovernight. Rajoana accepted his guilt and has spent the last 17 years in jail.He is due to be executed on the 31st of March. Rajoana did not appeal hissentencing, as a stand against the corrupt and failing Indian legal system.
Rajoana gave up his life so that the lives of tens ofthousands of others could be spared. His mother shed countless tears over 17years so that thousands of mothers would not have to. One of the first thingsBhai Balwant Singh Rajoana said in his will, was to donate his body organs tothose who needed it.
There have been numerous cases where individuals in the pasthave been convicted of killings, in India, and this includes innocent civilians(the Mumbai bombings, an example) and still those convicted weren't given thedeath sentence. Bhai Balwant Singh Rajoana took out a man responsible forbutchering Sikhs, just as Hitler was executed to save the Jewish people. He isnot a terrorist and yet he is being treated as such. The simple fact is thatBhai Balwant Singh Rajoana is a Sikh and this is why he has been sentenced todeath.
Amnesty International have already condemned the Punjab policefor their human rights violations and their short report can be read here.
If this goes ahead he will be the first person to be hung inPunjab in over 20 years! India has previously called for a moratorium on thedeath penalty; however there has been no word of that from the IndianGovernment as they look to go ahead with this execution.


Please create awareness of this issue, I know it's difficultto do, but pretend this is one of your family members going through this injustice,what would you do to help?

A quick pause for thought

It's funny, I always believedthat writing my first novel would be tough and any novels that followedwouldn't face the same rigour. But I'm at the stage right now of writing mythird novel and currently bumping along, writing scraps here or there, and notgetting in that space, where it becomes a compulsive behaviour to continuewriting the story formed in your imagination.It's tough when other areas ofyour life are facing challenges, as it can create a ripple effect on everythingelse, especially if those other areas of your life are not strong.I've decided to challenge myselfwith this novel and write something that isn't in the Crime genre. Right nowI'm describing it as a drama with a romantic twist. I've had the urge for awhile to write something with a heavy romantic theme, but have been afraid ofthe story turning into a pure romance novel. Of course there's nothing wrongwith romance novels, however, I believe that my writing mind would probablyending up giving romance novels a bad name.The main idea behind writing thistype of novel was to allow time to research my future books, which will includepolice procedural, however, as of now not too much research has been conducted.Once I feel secure that my story has enough drama along with the romanceaspect, I hope that will unlock me to dive into the research.My grand plan is to work onScreenplays during the edits of my work. This will allow me to continuewriting, but using a different tool to deliver it, which will also give me abreak from novels.When looking at the big pictureof what I want to achieve with my writing, it can be a little scary. Of coursethere's fear of what if I fail etc, which I try and convert into drive anddetermination, but sometimes that's not always possible and you are forced toponder the what ifs of the situation.The good news is that life changesso quickly. If you're in a place of challenge right now, it can always getbetter with time. Humour me for a moment and look back at the last five yearsof your life, I'm sure there's been achievements and challenges that wereovercome that you didn't expect was possible.I guess it all comes down to theold adage, "Take it one day at a time." That's not to say don't plan and dream,but perhaps focus on building great productive days and this will lead tosomething you could have never imagined.

Excerpt Of My New Novel - Traffic

Available Here On Kindle


Chapter 1
Melanie Swift analysed her face in themirror of the ladies toilets. She could see a partial red handprint on hercheek, where her last client got slaphappy. Her hand quivered as she touchedthe sore spot.She closed hereyes and squeezed out tears, quickly wiping them away in anger. She had criedenough today, and not only that, she stole a bottle of vodka from the storageroom and managed to get blind drunk. Now she was tired of feeling sorry forherself, and she couldn't take any more self-pity."Just get throughtoday," she said. "Just a few more hours and you'll be ok." Her eyes betrayedher words. They were fatigued and her gaze was long. She balled her hand into afist and held it tight.Her mind drifted to the last evening she spent with herfamily. After tucking in her younger sisters, she joined her parents fordinner. She imagined for a moment that she was there. She found a way out ofthis slavery and was now in the only place she wanted to be: home. An innervoice told her that this would soon be a reality, and before she could continuewith her fantasy, a protruding thought pulled her out of it. A couple weeks after Melanie met Diego, her boyfriend upuntil the day she was taken, she remembered how he brought her a designer coat.She never mentioned her love for fashion to him, whichonly a few close people knew. At the time the gift overwhelmed her, and itimmediately slipped out of her mind. But even in a drunken haze, she hadclarity on this odd circumstance.  The door suddenly swung open – whichinterrupted her thoughts. A girl walked in and stood beside Melanie, as shepeered into the mirror. She was here for the same purpose — she placed hermakeup bag on the counter and then unzipped. It was a welcomed distraction, asshe didn't want to even spend another moment thinking about Diego. The thoughtof him now made her sick. Melanie quickly applied her foundation, mascara,eyeliner and lipstick. When she was done, she stared back at herself in themirror. Her face was now relaxed and her hands were steady. Her eyes were nolonger filled with sorrow; they were wide and alert, but vacant. She playedwith her blonde bangs until she liked how they framed her face. Melanie glanced at the girlnext to her and immediately knew that she hadn't been trafficked for long. Shewasn't using waterproof mascara, which was essential here, in case you gaggedon the client's penis or your own spit ran into your eyes. "What's your name?" asked Melanie."Theresa.""Take this." She handed hera bottle of mascara from her own bag and told her she could keep it beforewalking out.Melanie walked along a shortnarrow passageway that led back to the club and just as she rounded the corner,she began to feel lightheaded. Before she could slow and steady herself, shestumbled in her high heels and fell to the floor – her knee taking the brunt ofthe impact."Shit!" She quickly graspedher knee, and rocked back and forth trying to fight back the tide of pain. Thiswas her fault, she knew – everything was her fault. Besides still feeling theeffects of the alcohol, the only food she had eaten all day was a cereal barand it was now late evening. She got to her feet and rubbed her kneecap untilshe was able to walk again.At the end of thedimly lit corridor Melanie opened the door to the club. Her eyes adjusted tothe soft purple haze that filled the room. She turned the corner and stoppedmomentarily to get a view of the tables. The club was almost empty but it wasstill early. She spotted her client on the other side of the room, sitting athis usual corner table. He was a businessman who was old enough to be herfather. He visited her like clockwork – every Saturday night at 8pm. As Melanie madeher way across the room she saw Sally – her pimp – fanning out pictures of thegirls on each of the tables. She passed by her without saying a word andconsciously looked away. When she reached the table, her client was talking onhis phone. He smiled as she sat down. Melanie flashed her practiced smile andnoticed he hadn't taken his eyes off her cleavage since she walked across theclub.The client's namewas Martin; he had a full head of grey hair, which was brushed back. Melanienever asked his age but guessed he was in his early fifties. She learned thathe was a loner and he told her that he would regularly relieve himself with theaid of his large porno collection. She didn't know whether this was supposed toimpress her, turn her on or win her sympathy. The only thing it said to her wasthat he was a dirty old man, with a lot of time on his hands.She looked downand picked up one of Sally's leaflets. It looked bland, cheap and behind thetimes, which summed up this club. There were grainy pictures of all the girlswith their statistics. A paragraph below contained their likes and dislikes,which Sally plagiarised from an escort site. She looked at her profile and readwhat her supposed tastes were. It said she was a giver and her biggest turn-onwas to fulfil a guy's dirtiest fantasies. It went on to say she was a sophisticatedgirl who loved getting down 'n' dirty and would leave you wanting more. Thepunch line at the end said, "Please fill my tight, wet, empty hole and youwon't regret it.""Hi, sweetheart,sorry about that. What you got there?" Martin slowly removed the leaflet fromMelanie's hands. "Mmm… nice, but I don't need to read this; I already got thebest girl."He liftedMelanie's hand off the table and kissed it. His exalted smile nauseated her.Martin exhaled andstood up. "I can't wait another second, lets go." Melanie led him toa door at the side of the bar and up a flight of stairs. A man dressed in blackmet her on the landing. His name was Fernando and he worked for Sally.Fernando rose fromthe chair and pulled out an earphone. He lifted his baseball cap and scratchedhis head. "Evening Martin," he smiled and held out his hand.Melanie continueddown and turned left at the end of the corridor. The room at the end was hersfor today's shift.  The room was likeall the others she had been in – dingy walls, loosely fitted carpet and apungent smell of perfume. A small window, admitted little light, and a lampfilled the room with a soft glow, creating an inviting ambience. The largewindow below was boarded up. She thought for a moment how it could've beensmashed. Besides the large slab of wood nailed onto the window frame the onlything out of place was the bed. It was a king size with silk bedcovers thatrested on a firm mattress and the steel frame ensured that it was sturdy –allowing clients to hammer away without fear of injury. As soon as Melaniestepped inside, she moved across to the desk and put down her makeup bag. Shetook out a tube of lubricant and squeezed a generous amount into her handbefore putting it down her mini-skirt and into her panties."Don't get startedwithout me." Martin stood in the threshold and looked on with lust in his eyesand a satanic smile. Melanie quicklylooked away. She stripped off her clothes with her back to him. A cold hand thensqueezed her shoulder. She cringed when he kissed her on the back of the neckbefore breaking away from his grip. She turned around and did her best tosmile.Martin held herface with one hand using his thumb to gently brush her cheek, and with theother, he rubbed himself hard.Melanie moved tothe desk and pulled open the middle drawer. She ripped off the square foilpackage from the large snake of condoms and gave it to Martin. While he slippedit on she lay on her back with her legs spread.There was noforeplay. Martin wanted to use every one of his twenty minutes to push himselfinside of her and fulfil whatever desire he had inside his head. During thesetwenty long minutes, Melanie tried her best to focus on something else, but asusual, it was no good. Her mind always returned to her dark reality, and itconsumed her, there was no getting away from it, when a man – in this instanceold enough to be her father – was using her to fulfil his dark fantasies andfeed his rotting mind. Her only lifeline was hope. Hope of getting out of hereone day, and escape the darkness that shrouded her life.When Martinfinished, his phone rang, as if whoever was calling knew that his appointmentwas over. He moved to the edge of the bed with his back to her and pulled outhis phone from his trousers, which were hung over the bedpost. Melanie lookedat the bedside table on the other side of the bed and saw his wallet. She couldsee half a dozen twenty pound notes poking out. Her mind, like a pendulum,swung between going for the prize and leaving well enough alone. Withhesitation, she made up her mind. Martinexhaled after putting down his phone. "The wife." He shook his head. "She wantsto know where I am every minute of the fucking day. By the time I get home, wegot nothing to talk about. Women!" He then turned his head and smiled. "Nooffence, love." They both dressed in silence, and whenMelanie was finished, she waited for Martin. She glanced at his wallet againand regretted the missed opportunity. She picked up the wallet and tossed itover the bed, when she saw Martin slipping into his jacket. He opened the wallet and counted out fourtwenty-pound notes. Then he took out her tip – a five-pound note. With a flickof the wrist, it floated towards her. He exhaled before saying. "I'm tempted tomake this a double appointment." His eyes were now rooted at her cleavage."Maybe next week," he said, talking to her breasts. He patted down his pocketsand winked at her before he left.   Melanie sighed before she dropped down onthe bed. She ran her hands through the top of her long hair. She wanted to cry,but she was afraid to. Instead, she got up and tidied the bed. She glanced atthe clock and saw that she had five minutes until her next appointment. Afterthat her schedule was free and she would have to wait for whoever stepped intothe club and became aroused by her picture and the spiel that came with herprofile. Saturday nights were the busiest. Sheremembered last Saturday. She saw more than twenty clients, which meant she hada long night ahead of her. There was a knock on the door. "Mel?"Melanie recognised the voice. She got upand opened the door. Fernando stood there holding one of hiswhite earphones. It was rare to see him without his iPod. "Your next client is here. Shall I ask himto wait, or send him up?"Fernando was one of the few who didn'ttreat the girls like animals. Even though he worked for the people who werekeeping her here and forcing her to give up her body, she was grateful for therespect. Everything that she took for granted before this life seemed like aluxury to her now. "You can send him up."Fernando nodded, plugged his earphone backin and proceeded down the corridor. She watched him until he turned the cornerand then closed the door. She looked up at the small window near the top of theroom. She previously attempted to loosen the board nailed across the windowbelow, but there was no give. She lifted the chair behind the desk and placedit beneath the window. She took off her heels before stepping onto the chair.The top window was too small for her to fit through, and even if she couldsomehow get through the boarded up window, there was nothing but a big drop tothe concrete below. This, of course, made her question whether to go throughthe trouble. Another stark realisation came to her – someone was desperateenough to try it. It was her first time in this room, andthe window offered the best view down the alleyway on the side of the building.In all the other rooms, the only thing she could see was the side of theadjacent building. As she peered through this window, she could see an openingin the alleyway. Melanie saw what she needed to, what she hoped for. From whatshe could make out, there was a small clearing at the end of the alleyway thatled to a residential street. She already knew that a locked gate blocked thefront entrance of the alleyway beside the club, which meant if she wanted out,she would have to find a rear exit.It didn't take long for her next client tomake his way up. When Melanie heard the knock, she was fastening the strap onher heel. She opened the door, and the client that stood before her was a manshe didn't recognise. "Melanie?" he said in a monotone voice.Melanie nodded and stepped back. She onlyregistered the strong smell of alcohol once he walked past her. His hair wasbushy and uncombed and he had stubble. As soon as he walked in, he began toundress without saying a word. The man's cold demeanour sent a chill throughher body. His eyes were empty as he stared at the bed while removing his jeansand socks. As Melanie undressed, she was more than aware that he paid noattention to her. It was as if he were the only person in the room. As soon as Melanie was naked, he moved hisgaze from the bed to her high heels. He analysed every contour of her body andthen, as if turned on by a switch, became alive and stepped towards her. Hegripped her shoulders and effortlessly forced Melanie down to her knees.Without saying a word, he pushed himself into her mouth and started moving hiships. He then grabbed the back of her head and used it as leverage. He wasaggressive, pushing Melanie down further than she wanted to go, causing her togag. She placed her hand firmly on the man's abdomen to gain some control butfound little relief. Since saying her name, it took him fiveminutes to say anything else. "Take it," he said, hesitantly, and then let outa fake sounding moan. His running commentary increased, as he got comfortable.He continued to force her down onto him, ignoring resistance. As Melanie jerkedherself back to breathe, she immediately felt hands underneath her arms. Beforeshe knew it, he pulled her onto her feet. Melanie recovered while the manstared into her eyes. He then put his mouth onto hers before pushing her backon the bed. His aggression continued as he thrust himself inside of her. He gotlouder, and she briefly wondered if he could be heard in other rooms. However,her tired and aching body dominated her thoughts. Fifteen minutes into the appointment andthe man still didn't let up. Her weak body infected her mind, but the need forsleep diminished the feeling of being violated. Then without warning, sheinvoluntarily moaned and immediately felt a rush of anger come over her. Howcould I enjoy this, she thought. But deep down she knew there was alwaysenjoyment, a hint of pleasure. No matter how small and how deep she tried tobury it in her mind, it was always there. A paradox. She knew under her fakesmiles and moans there was a grain of truth.After the man climaxed which was an eventin itself – shuddering and almost screaming to a halt – he wiped himself off.He then reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.He offered one to Melanie. Even though she didn't smoke she accepted, butdeclined a light."I'm going to save it for later.""Got a long night a head of you huh?"Melanie nodded. "Something like that."He talked and smoked while he lay in bedwith nothing but his boxers on. Melanie tuned out and was now thinking aboutthe paradox. She wondered if the scales would ever be tipped. If at some pointthe feeling of self-deprecation and being violated emotionally and physicallywould diminish, and the grain of truth – her enjoyment – would blossom. Whenshe came out of her thoughts, the man was still talking. He told her that thiswas his first time with an "escort." She wondered if he knew about herpredicament and was just being polite or if he was blind to everything thatwasn't wearing a pair of high heels.A knock on the door put an end to hischatter. "Sir," said a man. "Your twenty minutes are up."The man put out his half smoked cigarettein the ashtray, on the bedside table, and returned it to his pack. He got tohis feet and quickly dressed. When the door opened, a grinning man who stoodabove six foot leaned against the sidewall. As soon as he let the client leave,he stepped forward to block Melanie's path. Since Melanie first saw him two weeks ago,she could sense he was trouble. His name was Ronny, and he was in his latethirties but looked older; the combination of a beer belly and jaded complexionsignified that his bad lifestyle was already catching up to him.  He was completely bald, by choice, notwanting to let the hair grow only around the edges of his head. At first she only had to put up with hisperverted looks, but now he would whisper into her ear, sharing what he wantedto do to her. Melanie guessed that she was his new toy, since most of the othergirls already experienced his adolescent games. She tried her best to hide her fear, buther trembling hand gave her away. Ronny stepped through the threshold forcingMelanie back. "It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you," he said calmly.Melanie wasn't fooled; she knew there wasno kind and gentle side to him. Before she could even look around for a weaponRonny gripped both her wrists, raised them above her head and pinned themagainst the wall."You're so fucking beautiful, you knowthat?" He audibly sucked in air as he looked Melanie up and down and then slowlyexhaled while he settled on her grey eyes. Melanie couldn't bear to look at him; sheglanced at the floor behind his big frame. "Look at me," the rasp in his voice madeher flinch. She looked up into his eyes and saw thehunger within him; he looked possessed, with his deep stare and his grin. Hereyes widened and her legs felt as if they were about to buckle."You look so fucking sexy when you'rescared… vulnerable."A muffled call from somewhere down thehallway got his attention. They both looked toward the doorway. The call cameagain; this time it sounded closer. "Ronny!"Ronny looked into her eyes for only amoment; the hunger and smugness were gone. All she saw was emptiness in hisblank expression, as if the spirit that possessed him left his body. He let goof his grip, and as Melanie let her arms drop, she realised her hands werepartially numb. Ronny walked out without saying another word, his big bootsechoed down the hallway. Melanie moved towards the desk and satdown on the chair. She picked up her compact mirror and tube of lubricant anddropped them into her makeup bag. She could feel tears rolling down her facewhile she zipped the bag shut. She wiped them away and then ran her handsthrough her hair, squeezing a handful of locks in each hand. Her elbows droppedto the table as the tears flowed. She cried quietly, afraid that someone elsewould hear.

Chapter 2
The makeshift break room was located past the other bedrooms andadjacent to the landing. As she passed the other rooms she could hear therhythmic sound of the springs in the mattresses being worked, accompanied bypanting and practised commentary that would rival an experienced pornstar.Melanie often thought that some of these girls were trapped on a set filmingthe world's longest porno. Some of the more experienced girls tookpride in the way they looked for their clients and the service they provided.It was as if they had accepted this life and had made a decision to make themost of it. Melanie didn't understand this rationalisation and never asked themfor an explanation. As she approached the door to the breakroom she could hear the television, but didn't hear any voices. She opened thedoor and immediately saw Theresa. She was sitting on the worn couch watching thedraw for the national lottery.The room was sparse with furniture.Besides the tired green couch, there was a scared coffee table and threeuncomfortable wooden chairs. Everything was pointed to the 15" portable thatsat on a stack of yellow pages and telephone directories. Theresa looked up and smiled briefly. "So, you feeling lucky?" Melanie glancedat the screen.Theresa shook her head.Melanie took a seat on the couch next toher. There was a long silence between them and Melanie knew she had to talkfirst."If you ever want to talk about anything,I'm here to listen."There was hesitation before Theresa said,"Thank you.""I know it would've helped me."Melanie left the door open for Theresa,thinking that she would talk whenever she was ready to. "They said something about training melater today. What does that mean?" Her voice was soft and clear, and Melaniethought it was a London accent. "It means they're going to take you into aroom and… have sex with you until you stop fighting."Theresa's disconnected demeanour changedlike a flick of a switch, she was now frozen with fear. Her body lurchedforward and was rigid. "They're going to want to get all theinitial shock and fight out of your system, before you start seeing clients.""No… no," she whispered. She stood up andwent to the window and pulled at the handle."It's locked and you can't jump that fardown.""It doesn't matter if I could, theythreatened to kill my family if I tried to escape." It saddened Melanie to see Theresa's desperation.It was the same desperation she went through and knew every girl, who becametrapped in this world, would go through. But to Melanie's surprise, Theresaturned around and leaned back against the window. She closed her eyes and tooka few short, deep breaths. When they opened there was no trace of panic anddesperation. Instead, there was only calmness, which Melanie couldn'tcomprehend. Theresa walked back to the couch and sat down. "Ok, ok," she whispered. She whisperedsomething else, but Melanie couldn't understand what she was saying. She thentook a few more deep breaths, before asking the question. "What happens inthese sessions?""You sure you want to hear this? Perhapsit's better if you –""No. I want to be prepared."Melanie was struck with awe. The resolvein Theresa's eyes was something she had not seen before from someone so young.She was still an adolescent as many of them were, but she had a maturity thatMelanie admired."There will be three of them. Two to holdyou down, whilst the other, you know. Each one will have their turn. They willhit and slap you into submission. Even tie you up if they have to.""How long does it last?""As long as it has to. Until they thinkyou have no fight left, and are willing to follow instructions."For a moment, Theresa looked incontemplation. "What if I explain to them that I'll follow instructions and dowhatever they want? Show them that I don't have any fight in me."Melanie shook her head. "It won't make anydifference. The training is not just to discipline you; it's also for them.They're going to want to have their way with you. These are dirty old men, whowould like nothing more than to be with a young innocent girl."Their conversation was cut short with thesound of high heels approaching the doorway. Two girls entered talking andlaughing; they walked around the coffee table and sat down on the woodenchairs. They were discussing the tips each of them made, and then one of themshared a story about a client who in her words "couldn't get it up."Melanie could see that Theresa was lookinginward. She wasn't panicking or complaining about her fate, she had alreadyaccepted it. She sat up straight on the couch, with her hands clasped together.It was as if she had a secret reserve of life experience she could call uponthat went beyond her adolescent years. Melanie thought back to when she learnedabout her training session. She was in pieces; she fought them all the way,which made matters worse. They eventually tied her up and took turns for anhour. She touched her face, remembering the hard slaps she endured and thebruises on her arms and legs.The break room's door suddenly swung open,which seemed to catch all by surprise. The chatter and laughter ceasedimmediately and Theresa was now alert, her eyes, like everyone else's lookingtoward the door. Ronny stepped inside and Melanie sensed that they were herefor Theresa. She saw two other men waiting outside, both younger than Ronny,but it seemed they lived the same lifestyle; both of their jackets sagged andone of them was drawing hard on a cigarette. Ronny was possessed once more;there was no grin, but his eyes widened when he saw Theresa. "Look at this gorgeous – Spanish bronze…"Ronny was caught up in looking at her from head to toe. He was under hypnosis."The fucking punters are going to love you," he said, pulling her off the couchby her arm. Melanie wished she had a weapon, somethingshe could use to put the animal down. Theresa looked back at her before she wasmanhandled out of the room. She looked terrified; her eyes wide in disbelief,and for a moment, Melanie thought she wanted to say something to her, perhaps aplea for help.When the door shut, the two girls in frontlooked back at Melanie and then at each other; they too knew what the score wasand from then on there was no more talking and laughing.      

Chapter 3
Melanie closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the noise around her.She hoped she didn't have to see any more clients, as she had already showeredand was comfortable and warm inside her bed. She was lying on her side, turnedtoward the wall so nobody could see her face; it was her only way of gettingsome solace. Melanie and some of the other girls hadleft the club a short while ago, and returned to the main brothel. It used tobe a large bed and breakfast, which needed little or no change for the newestablishment moving in. Unfortunately for Melanie, they were allcalled back from the club to service the waiting customers here. Melanie sawanother three clients. They were all brief appointments, as the clients onlywanted oral sex.She was now thinking about Theresa andhoped her ordeal was over. Two and a half hours had passed since she washustled out of the break room and she knew that Theresa wasn't back from theclub because she wasn't in her room. As far as Melanie knew, the other tworooms that housed the other girls were full. Inside her room, there were threegirls and two empty beds. Her mind drifted to what she had seen outof the window inside the far room at the club. Escaping from the club would beher best chance. In the brothel they had almost no freedom. They were onlyallowed to see clients on the floor below. Melanie felt a chill go through her, asshe heard a jangling of keys. She hoped she wasn't going to be called down tosee another client, and pulled the duvet over her face. She didn't know if shecould take anymore; her body was tired and aching. The door opened briefly,before she heard the turn of the lock, snapping back into place. She heardsomebody inside the room accompanied by muffled voices. She rolled over and sawTheresa walking towards her. There was an empty bed beside Melanie, who countedherself lucky to have gotten a spot in the corner of the room. She studied Theresa'sface but couldn't get a read on her thoughts. Her blank stare only told herthat perhaps she hadn't yet processed what had just happened. She rolled withher a small suitcase, which she left at the end of her bed, and it was onlywhen she sat down that Melanie noticed her red face.The silence was broken by whispers fromacross the room. Melanie had to vocally get her attention and out of herdistant gaze. "Theresa," she said. Theresa slowly looked down at her andMelanie knew exactly what she was thinking. She was reliving the past couple ofhours and trying to make sense of it. She felt dirty, worthless and most of allshe was filled with sorrow that Melanie knew by experience would turn intoanger. Melanie got out of bed and sat beside Theresa. She put her arm aroundher and gently pulled her close, easing her head onto her chest. She heldTheresa in her arms and listened to her cry.
Melanie awoke and her eyes focused on Theresa's bed but she wasn'tthere. She looked up and saw her at the window. It was still dark out and theonly source of light inside the room came from the glow of the streetlights,which splashed across the far sidewall and illuminated the corner of the room.Melanie slipped out from underneath her duvet and immediately felt the coldattack her. She fought off the chill and folded her arms tight to her chest,before walking to the window. The view offered a moment of escape, asyou were able to see some of the city below. There was a school with a largeplaying field next to a church. Beyond that there was a residential area andhigh street shops. Melanie often took in the view and watched the schoolchildren playing; she couldn't help but think that some of them were destinedto be locked away like she was now. Even though Melanie wasn't religious shespent time taking in the beautiful structure of the church and imagined for amoment just being inside such a holy place, where thoughts of tranquillitycalled to you. It was in these moments she contemplated on a higher power, animperishable pure energy, and it was then she felt comfort as if the hope andfight inside of her was re-energised. "Hey," said Melanie. Theresa put on a brave smile, as her eyes remained fixed on theopen expanse through the window. "Thank you," she said. "I wouldn't have gottenthrough last night without you.""You're welcome."They both gazed out into the darkness.Nothing needed to be said. Melanie followed Theresa's eye line and guessed shewas looking at the church. She wondered if the architecture spoke to her in thesame way, and if it too gave her comfort. "Do you believe in god?" Theresa asked,her eyes still in a distant gaze."Sometimes," said Melanie. "You?""Yes. I wouldn't be here without the one.""What religion do you follow?"Theresa now looked away from the window."I don't follow anything; I have learnt things about living a certainlifestyle." Melanie looked confused and was about toask a question, but Theresa already had the answer."Sikhi. I like to think of it as alifestyle rather then a religion.""I've never heard of that reli –lifestyle," she smiled."There was a girl I knew, who shared withme some of her life experiences. And I always asked to learn more. She wasoriginally from the U.S and she grew up with her family in New Mexico, whichhas a large population of Sikhs. Her parents came to the U.K to be closer tosome of their family, but she hopes to go back there when she's old enough. Isaid to her that I would go with her."Melanie thought about what she said andregretted the people she had crossed paths with in her life, who had nothingmore to offer then binge drinking or a drug habit. She wanted to ask morequestions but decided that Theresa had been through enough; she instead enjoyedthe view and the comfortable silence.
Even though Melanie didn't get a lot of sleep, she felt fresh andenergised. She wondered if any of it had to with her hope of escape. She lookedover and saw that Theresa wasn't there, but the sound coming from the bathroomtold her she was having a shower. Everyone else inside the room was asleep. Theresa came out silently, closing thedoor behind her."Morning miss sunshine," said Melanie."I'm used to being an early riser," shesaid smiling.Footsteps could be heard stopping outsidethe door, then came the familiar sound of the deadbolt clinking open. Sallywalked in with a scowl on her face. "Thought I'd heard voices. You two can getan early start on cleaning the bar." Sally was small and overweight, but it wasa mistake to underestimate her strength. Melanie had witnessed her throwing outclients from the club by the back of their necks. She spoke in a German accent,Melanie guessed, but her English was good. "I'll take you out for breakfast after, ifyou like."Sally's offer caught Melanie by surprise;it seemed out of character, but nevertheless she was grateful. After a quick shower, a man escortedTheresa and Melanie downstairs, and out to a waiting car. The man got into thefront passenger seat and another man was already waiting behind the wheel.Melanie recognised both men from the previous night – they stood outside thebreak room while Ronny came in to get Theresa. Melanie looked across at Theresa in thebackseat and knew by her trembling hands that she was aware of this too. She reachedacross and held it. She could see that Theresa was trying to be strong again.Her hard stare was out of the window, but she was deep in thought. The man in the passenger seat turned hishead. "You want sweet?" He held out the packet and looked from Melanie toTheresa.Melanie shook her head and looked back atTheresa, whose eyes were burning a hole through him. Her hard stare ebbed awayand now she looked in contemplation. Probably wondering how this man could rapeher, and act as if nothing had happened. Melanie often wondered if they hadmetal skulls with a processor chip as a brain, as she couldn't imagine a humanacting in this way – so devoid of emotion. She thought about their accents andsettled on Eastern European.  It was a short drive to the club, whichwas down a quiet street with nothing more than an off-license, a few takeawayshops and a rundown laundrette. Inside the club, Sally had already arrived,seated at one of the tables with her feet up, and talking on her phone. The twomen who followed them in joined her. Sally told the person on the other end tohold on."Clean out the upstairs and thendownstairs toilets. After we can all go to breakfast and then get you both someclothes. The other girls will clean the empties and the rooms, when their lazyass's get up."Since Sally had bought Melanie, theclothes she had with her weren't the clothes that were appropriate for the job.Most of what she had were jeans and T-shirts, instead of the short skirts,tight tops and high heels that were required.As Melanie began to walk towards the bar,Sally said something else. "You know where the mop and bucket is?"Melanie just turned and nodded. She walkedbehind the bar and down a narrow short hallway that was lined with boxes –mostly spirits and peanuts. At the end of the hallway, instead of turningright, to where the storage closet was, she went straight on. Theresa silentlyfollowed.At the end she saw a closed door. Beforeopening it she looked back and Theresa sensed, by her anxiousness, thatsomething wasn't right."What's wrong?""Nothing," she said. "I just need to checksomething."A rush of adrenaline coursed through herwhen the door opened, however, a metal grated door stood in front of her. Shequickly reached for the gold knob but it was locked, as she expected. The doorled to an abandoned expanse that was heavily littered with old takeaway bagsand boxes. Further ahead was the rear of a closed-down shop. The white stripesof paint that marked out parking spaces were still there, however the shop'swindows were boarded up. "What're you doing?"Melanie pointed to the alleyway to the farright of the expanse. "Finding us a way out of here.""We can't just run, what about ourfamilies? They know where we live.""We'll have to figure that out after."Melanie closed the door and turned to face Theresa, who looked uncertain. "Wecan do this, ok; we can do this."Theresa nodded and sighed, giving in toMelanie's hope and enthusiasm.As they made their way back and passed thecorridor that led to the bar, they heard Sally still on the phone. Nothing more was said between them, asthey opened the storage closet. They each pulled out a pair of latex gloves,slipped them on, and then tore off several black bin liners and stuffed theminto their jean pockets. Theresa squirted, what looked like cheap,floor cleaner into a bucket and then waited for the hot water to rise inside.After, they rolled the bucket out to the bar, using the two mops inside, topush it along. Sally was still talking on the phone, andfrom what was heard it sounded like she was negotiating something. The two menseated at the table looked disinterested in what she was saying. Once moving through the side door, bothgirls grabbed the metal rod and slowly climbed the stairs, being careful not tospill the water. Again this was done in silence. They could still hear Sally,which meant anything they said would be heard too. At the top of the stairsthey went right and headed for the toilets, adjacent to the break room. Inside the Men's toilets, Theresa spokefirst. "How did you know about the alleyway?"Melanie lifted her dripping mop andsqueezed it out in the small plastic grated basin in the bucket. "I saw it theother night, from the room I was in.""You think it's possible?""Only one way to find out. The other girlsmaybe too scared or too comfortable to find a way out, but not me.""Comfortable?"Melanie nodded. "Instead of looking for away out, they're looking for a way in, hoping to get to the top whore houses,where the real money is made. If you ask me, no amount of money is worth this.""I guess we don't know what's going oninside their head. Their reality is different from ours."Melanie nodded and then sighed, looking atthe mess around her. "Guess we better get started."The Men's didn't require much cleaning, sothey just gave the floor a once over. In the Ladies, however, there was a lotof work to do. Tissues and facial wipes overflowed the bin and ended upscattered on the floor. Discarded lipstick, mascara bottles and other litterwere on the work surface, around the basins.Melanie sighed. "Shit."They decided to clean the three cubicletoilets first, before dealing with the floor. Once they had finished cleaningthe toilets, Theresa emptied the overflowed bin and Melanie worked on pickingup what was left on the floor."Theresa."Theresa looked up from the knot she wastying in one of the bin liners.Melanie held up a clear plastic bag thathad a white powder residue."No prizes for guessing what was in here.""How could they afford to get hold of thatstuff?""Who knows what Sally's connections are?Perhaps the girls get a discount. Either way, some girl needed a boost to gether through the night or didn't want to face the night ahead of her sober."Melanie and Theresa spent the next fifteenminutes sweeping up litter, before returning downstairs. As they entered behindthe bar, they could hear Sally talking, now to the two men who had brought themhere. She didn't look up or pause mid sentence, as the girls rolled the bucketacross the room, towards the other set of toilets. Before Theresa passed through thethreshold, Melanie pulled her in by her arm and pushed the door shut.  "Did you see that?""See what?" said Theresa."The set of keys next to Sally on thetable. They must be for the club, which means one of them is for the backdoor.""We better find out if they are, before wetry and figure out how to get hold of them."Melanie nodded. For the time being they got on with themundane job of mopping the floor and emptying the bins. Melanie's mind was onthe big bunch of keys she saw next to Sally on the table. She wondered how shewould find out if one of them opened the door to their freedom. "How about after we're done here, we tellSally we heard kids or something out back?" said Theresa.Melanie came out of one of the cubicles."That could work."They made quick work of the toilets andMelanie led the way out. She carried with her two-stuffed bin liners, andTheresa pushed along the bucket with the two mop handles sticking out like anold school television aerial. Sally was still at the same table, smoking acigarette and talking to one of the men who brought them here. The other man,the shorter of the two, was at the bar, pouring a bottle of J20 into a pintglass. He gawked at both girls, who walked behind the bar and Melanie couldfeel his eyes on her. When she looked up at him his eyes had moved to Theresa.She knew his perverse stare was sending chills through Theresa's body, as itused to for her. As they proceeded down the hallway,Melanie looked back and could see Theresa reliving the events of the nightbefore. Her eyes were down at the floor and were looking inward. She wanted toput an arm around her but she had no hands spare. Instead, she offered asympathetic expression and said. "You ok?"Theresa looked up. "I saw that same lookwhen he was… you know, last night."Melanie nodded and understood her pain;she tried to change the subject. "Once we find out which key, we'll be close togetting out of here, ok?"Theresa nodded. "I'm sorry I just…""Hey, you got nothing to be sorry about."Theresa smiled. "You're right."After they replaced the mops and bucketback into the storage cupboard and disposed of the rubbish in a dumpster alongthe hallway, Melanie led the way to the bar. As she approached the table, thetwo men were talking amongst themselves in their native language. Sally – whowas on her third cigarette judging by the crumpled butts inside the ashtray –stood up. "You girls finished?" she said. "Yes, we're done," replied Melanie, "but Ithink I heard some kids messing around out back. It's probably nothing but…"A grimace etched its way on to Sally'sface, as her brow dropped. "These fucking kids," she said before stepping backtowards the table and picking up the large set of keys, all bunched together ona small key chain. As she walked behind the bar and down thehallway, Melanie and Theresa walked closely behind, hoping she wouldn't have aproblem with it. Melanie heard the keys jangling, as Sallylooked for the backdoor key, however, her wide body blocked any view to seewhich key she selected. Sally opened the first door and peeredthrough the metal grate that separated them from the outside world. Melaniestood behind, breath held, realising that she may not go and look outside. Butafter several agonising seconds, Sally forced the key into the hole and openedthe back door. She stepped out, cautiously looking both ways in case somebodywas hiding either side. She then scanned the neglected clearing.While Sally was checking out what shethought was trouble, Melanie signalled Theresa to stand in the doorway, whileshe stooped down to look at the key. It had a hexagonal shape and the lettersJMG imprinted on one side. She quickly flicked through the other keys asquietly as she could and couldn't see any key that had both a similar shape andsize. When Sally walked back in from the cold, rubbing her hands together,Melanie pretended to look at the lock on the outer side of the metal door. "I thought I heard someone tampering withthe lock, but I can't see anything.""It's probably just some fucked up kids,drinking or getting high," said SallyMelanie nodded and then smiled at Theresaafter Sally walked past.

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Chapter 1
Melanie Swift analysed her face in themirror of the ladies toilets. She could see a partial red handprint on hercheek, where her last client got slaphappy. Her hand quivered as she touchedthe sore spot.She closed hereyes and squeezed out tears, quickly wiping them away in anger. She had criedenough today, and not only that, she stole a bottle of vodka from the storageroom and managed to get blind drunk. Now she was tired of feeling sorry forherself, and she couldn't take any more self-pity."Just get throughtoday," she said. "Just a few more hours and you'll be ok." Her eyes betrayedher words. They were fatigued and her gaze was long. She balled her hand into afist and held it tight.Her mind drifted to the last evening she spent with herfamily. After tucking in her younger sisters, she joined her parents fordinner. She imagined for a moment that she was there. She found a way out ofthis slavery and was now in the only place she wanted to be: home. An innervoice told her that this would soon be a reality, and before she could continuewith her fantasy, a protruding thought pulled her out of it. A couple weeks after Melanie met Diego, her boyfriend upuntil the day she was taken, she remembered how he brought her a designer coat.She never mentioned her love for fashion to him, whichonly a few close people knew. At the time the gift overwhelmed her, and itimmediately slipped out of her mind. But even in a drunken haze, she hadclarity on this odd circumstance.  The door suddenly swung open – whichinterrupted her thoughts. A girl walked in and stood beside Melanie, as shepeered into the mirror. She was here for the same purpose — she placed hermakeup bag on the counter and then unzipped. It was a welcomed distraction, asshe didn't want to even spend another moment thinking about Diego. The thoughtof him now made her sick. Melanie quickly applied her foundation, mascara,eyeliner and lipstick. When she was done, she stared back at herself in themirror. Her face was now relaxed and her hands were steady. Her eyes were nolonger filled with sorrow; they were wide and alert, but vacant. She playedwith her blonde bangs until she liked how they framed her face. Melanie glanced at the girlnext to her and immediately knew that she hadn't been trafficked for long. Shewasn't using waterproof mascara, which was essential here, in case you gaggedon the client's penis or your own spit ran into your eyes. "What's your name?" asked Melanie."Theresa.""Take this." She handed hera bottle of mascara from her own bag and told her she could keep it beforewalking out.Melanie walked along a shortnarrow passageway that led back to the club and just as she rounded the corner,she began to feel lightheaded. Before she could slow and steady herself, shestumbled in her high heels and fell to the floor – her knee taking the brunt ofthe impact."Shit!" She quickly graspedher knee, and rocked back and forth trying to fight back the tide of pain. Thiswas her fault, she knew – everything was her fault. Besides still feeling theeffects of the alcohol, the only food she had eaten all day was a cereal barand it was now late evening. She got to her feet and rubbed her kneecap untilshe was able to walk again.At the end of thedimly lit corridor Melanie opened the door to the club. Her eyes adjusted tothe soft purple haze that filled the room. She turned the corner and stoppedmomentarily to get a view of the tables. The club was almost empty but it wasstill early. She spotted her client on the other side of the room, sitting athis usual corner table. He was a businessman who was old enough to be herfather. He visited her like clockwork – every Saturday night at 8pm. As Melanie madeher way across the room she saw Sally – her pimp – fanning out pictures of thegirls on each of the tables. She passed by her without saying a word andconsciously looked away. When she reached the table, her client was talking onhis phone. He smiled as she sat down. Melanie flashed her practiced smile andnoticed he hadn't taken his eyes off her cleavage since she walked across theclub.The client's namewas Martin; he had a full head of grey hair, which was brushed back. Melanienever asked his age but guessed he was in his early fifties. She learned thathe was a loner and he told her that he would regularly relieve himself with theaid of his large porno collection. She didn't know whether this was supposed toimpress her, turn her on or win her sympathy. The only thing it said to her wasthat he was a dirty old man, with a lot of time on his hands.She looked downand picked up one of Sally's leaflets. It looked bland, cheap and behind thetimes, which summed up this club. There were grainy pictures of all the girlswith their statistics. A paragraph below contained their likes and dislikes,which Sally plagiarised from an escort site. She looked at her profile and readwhat her supposed tastes were. It said she was a giver and her biggest turn-onwas to fulfil a guy's dirtiest fantasies. It went on to say she was a sophisticatedgirl who loved getting down 'n' dirty and would leave you wanting more. Thepunch line at the end said, "Please fill my tight, wet, empty hole and youwon't regret it.""Hi, sweetheart,sorry about that. What you got there?" Martin slowly removed the leaflet fromMelanie's hands. "Mmm… nice, but I don't need to read this; I already got thebest girl."He liftedMelanie's hand off the table and kissed it. His exalted smile nauseated her.Martin exhaled andstood up. "I can't wait another second, lets go." Melanie led him toa door at the side of the bar and up a flight of stairs. A man dressed in blackmet her on the landing. His name was Fernando and he worked for Sally.Fernando rose fromthe chair and pulled out an earphone. He lifted his baseball cap and scratchedhis head. "Evening Martin," he smiled and held out his hand.Melanie continueddown and turned left at the end of the corridor. The room at the end was hersfor today's shift.  The room was likeall the others she had been in – dingy walls, loosely fitted carpet and apungent smell of perfume. A small window, admitted little light, and a lampfilled the room with a soft glow, creating an inviting ambience. The largewindow below was boarded up. She thought for a moment how it could've beensmashed. Besides the large slab of wood nailed onto the window frame the onlything out of place was the bed. It was a king size with silk bedcovers thatrested on a firm mattress and the steel frame ensured that it was sturdy –allowing clients to hammer away without fear of injury. As soon as Melaniestepped inside, she moved across to the desk and put down her makeup bag. Shetook out a tube of lubricant and squeezed a generous amount into her handbefore putting it down her mini-skirt and into her panties."Don't get startedwithout me." Martin stood in the threshold and looked on with lust in his eyesand a satanic smile. Melanie quicklylooked away. She stripped off her clothes with her back to him. A cold hand thensqueezed her shoulder. She cringed when he kissed her on the back of the neckbefore breaking away from his grip. She turned around and did her best tosmile.Martin held herface with one hand using his thumb to gently brush her cheek, and with theother, he rubbed himself hard.Melanie moved tothe desk and pulled open the middle drawer. She ripped off the square foilpackage from the large snake of condoms and gave it to Martin. While he slippedit on she lay on her back with her legs spread.There was noforeplay. Martin wanted to use every one of his twenty minutes to push himselfinside of her and fulfil whatever desire he had inside his head. During thesetwenty long minutes, Melanie tried her best to focus on something else, but asusual, it was no good. Her mind always returned to her dark reality, and itconsumed her, there was no getting away from it, when a man – in this instanceold enough to be her father – was using her to fulfil his dark fantasies andfeed his rotting mind. Her only lifeline was hope. Hope of getting out of hereone day, and escape the darkness that shrouded her life.When Martinfinished, his phone rang, as if whoever was calling knew that his appointmentwas over. He moved to the edge of the bed with his back to her and pulled outhis phone from his trousers, which were hung over the bedpost. Melanie lookedat the bedside table on the other side of the bed and saw his wallet. She couldsee half a dozen twenty pound notes poking out. Her mind, like a pendulum,swung between going for the prize and leaving well enough alone. Withhesitation, she made up her mind. Martinexhaled after putting down his phone. "The wife." He shook his head. "She wantsto know where I am every minute of the fucking day. By the time I get home, wegot nothing to talk about. Women!" He then turned his head and smiled. "Nooffence, love." They both dressed in silence, and whenMelanie was finished, she waited for Martin. She glanced at his wallet againand regretted the missed opportunity. She picked up the wallet and tossed itover the bed, when she saw Martin slipping into his jacket. He opened the wallet and counted out fourtwenty-pound notes. Then he took out her tip – a five-pound note. With a flickof the wrist, it floated towards her. He exhaled before saying. "I'm tempted tomake this a double appointment." His eyes were now rooted at her cleavage."Maybe next week," he said, talking to her breasts. He patted down his pocketsand winked at her before he left.   Melanie sighed before she dropped down onthe bed. She ran her hands through the top of her long hair. She wanted to cry,but she was afraid to. Instead, she got up and tidied the bed. She glanced atthe clock and saw that she had five minutes until her next appointment. Afterthat her schedule was free and she would have to wait for whoever stepped intothe club and became aroused by her picture and the spiel that came with herprofile. Saturday nights were the busiest. Sheremembered last Saturday. She saw more than twenty clients, which meant she hada long night ahead of her. There was a knock on the door. "Mel?"Melanie recognised the voice. She got upand opened the door. Fernando stood there holding one of hiswhite earphones. It was rare to see him without his iPod. "Your next client is here. Shall I ask himto wait, or send him up?"Fernando was one of the few who didn'ttreat the girls like animals. Even though he worked for the people who werekeeping her here and forcing her to give up her body, she was grateful for therespect. Everything that she took for granted before this life seemed like aluxury to her now. "You can send him up."Fernando nodded, plugged his earphone backin and proceeded down the corridor. She watched him until he turned the cornerand then closed the door. She looked up at the small window near the top of theroom. She previously attempted to loosen the board nailed across the windowbelow, but there was no give. She lifted the chair behind the desk and placedit beneath the window. She took off her heels before stepping onto the chair.The top window was too small for her to fit through, and even if she couldsomehow get through the boarded up window, there was nothing but a big drop tothe concrete below. This, of course, made her question whether to go throughthe trouble. Another stark realisation came to her – someone was desperateenough to try it. It was her first time in this room, andthe window offered the best view down the alleyway on the side of the building.In all the other rooms, the only thing she could see was the side of theadjacent building. As she peered through this window, she could see an openingin the alleyway. Melanie saw what she needed to, what she hoped for. From whatshe could make out, there was a small clearing at the end of the alleyway thatled to a residential street. She already knew that a locked gate blocked thefront entrance of the alleyway beside the club, which meant if she wanted out,she would have to find a rear exit.It didn't take long for her next client tomake his way up. When Melanie heard the knock, she was fastening the strap onher heel. She opened the door, and the client that stood before her was a manshe didn't recognise. "Melanie?" he said in a monotone voice.Melanie nodded and stepped back. She onlyregistered the strong smell of alcohol once he walked past her. His hair wasbushy and uncombed and he had stubble. As soon as he walked in, he began toundress without saying a word. The man's cold demeanour sent a chill throughher body. His eyes were empty as he stared at the bed while removing his jeansand socks. As Melanie undressed, she was more than aware that he paid noattention to her. It was as if he were the only person in the room. As soon as Melanie was naked, he moved hisgaze from the bed to her high heels. He analysed every contour of her body andthen, as if turned on by a switch, became alive and stepped towards her. Hegripped her shoulders and effortlessly forced Melanie down to her knees.Without saying a word, he pushed himself into her mouth and started moving hiships. He then grabbed the back of her head and used it as leverage. He wasaggressive, pushing Melanie down further than she wanted to go, causing her togag. She placed her hand firmly on the man's abdomen to gain some control butfound little relief. Since saying her name, it took him fiveminutes to say anything else. "Take it," he said, hesitantly, and then let outa fake sounding moan. His running commentary increased, as he got comfortable.He continued to force her down onto him, ignoring resistance. As Melanie jerkedherself back to breathe, she immediately felt hands underneath her arms. Beforeshe knew it, he pulled her onto her feet. Melanie recovered while the manstared into her eyes. He then put his mouth onto hers before pushing her backon the bed. His aggression continued as he thrust himself inside of her. He gotlouder, and she briefly wondered if he could be heard in other rooms. However,her tired and aching body dominated her thoughts. Fifteen minutes into the appointment andthe man still didn't let up. Her weak body infected her mind, but the need forsleep diminished the feeling of being violated. Then without warning, sheinvoluntarily moaned and immediately felt a rush of anger come over her. Howcould I enjoy this, she thought. But deep down she knew there was alwaysenjoyment, a hint of pleasure. No matter how small and how deep she tried tobury it in her mind, it was always there. A paradox. She knew under her fakesmiles and moans there was a grain of truth.After the man climaxed which was an eventin itself – shuddering and almost screaming to a halt – he wiped himself off.He then reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.He offered one to Melanie. Even though she didn't smoke she accepted, butdeclined a light."I'm going to save it for later.""Got a long night a head of you huh?"Melanie nodded. "Something like that."He talked and smoked while he lay in bedwith nothing but his boxers on. Melanie tuned out and was now thinking aboutthe paradox. She wondered if the scales would ever be tipped. If at some pointthe feeling of self-deprecation and being violated emotionally and physicallywould diminish, and the grain of truth – her enjoyment – would blossom. Whenshe came out of her thoughts, the man was still talking. He told her that thiswas his first time with an "escort." She wondered if he knew about herpredicament and was just being polite or if he was blind to everything thatwasn't wearing a pair of high heels.A knock on the door put an end to hischatter. "Sir," said a man. "Your twenty minutes are up."The man put out his half smoked cigarettein the ashtray, on the bedside table, and returned it to his pack. He got tohis feet and quickly dressed. When the door opened, a grinning man who stoodabove six foot leaned against the sidewall. As soon as he let the client leave,he stepped forward to block Melanie's path. Since Melanie first saw him two weeks ago,she could sense he was trouble. His name was Ronny, and he was in his latethirties but looked older; the combination of a beer belly and jaded complexionsignified that his bad lifestyle was already catching up to him.  He was completely bald, by choice, notwanting to let the hair grow only around the edges of his head. At first she only had to put up with hisperverted looks, but now he would whisper into her ear, sharing what he wantedto do to her. Melanie guessed that she was his new toy, since most of the othergirls already experienced his adolescent games. She tried her best to hide her fear, buther trembling hand gave her away. Ronny stepped through the threshold forcingMelanie back. "It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you," he said calmly.Melanie wasn't fooled; she knew there wasno kind and gentle side to him. Before she could even look around for a weaponRonny gripped both her wrists, raised them above her head and pinned themagainst the wall."You're so fucking beautiful, you knowthat?" He audibly sucked in air as he looked Melanie up and down and then slowlyexhaled while he settled on her grey eyes. Melanie couldn't bear to look at him; sheglanced at the floor behind his big frame. "Look at me," the rasp in his voice madeher flinch. She looked up into his eyes and saw thehunger within him; he looked possessed, with his deep stare and his grin. Hereyes widened and her legs felt as if they were about to buckle."You look so fucking sexy when you'rescared… vulnerable."A muffled call from somewhere down thehallway got his attention. They both looked toward the doorway. The call cameagain; this time it sounded closer. "Ronny!"Ronny looked into her eyes for only amoment; the hunger and smugness were gone. All she saw was emptiness in hisblank expression, as if the spirit that possessed him left his body. He let goof his grip, and as Melanie let her arms drop, she realised her hands werepartially numb. Ronny walked out without saying another word, his big bootsechoed down the hallway. Melanie moved towards the desk and satdown on the chair. She picked up her compact mirror and tube of lubricant anddropped them into her makeup bag. She could feel tears rolling down her facewhile she zipped the bag shut. She wiped them away and then ran her handsthrough her hair, squeezing a handful of locks in each hand. Her elbows droppedto the table as the tears flowed. She cried quietly, afraid that someone elsewould hear.

Chapter 2
The makeshift break room was located past the other bedrooms andadjacent to the landing. As she passed the other rooms she could hear therhythmic sound of the springs in the mattresses being worked, accompanied bypanting and practised commentary that would rival an experienced pornstar.Melanie often thought that some of these girls were trapped on a set filmingthe world's longest porno. Some of the more experienced girls tookpride in the way they looked for their clients and the service they provided.It was as if they had accepted this life and had made a decision to make themost of it. Melanie didn't understand this rationalisation and never asked themfor an explanation. As she approached the door to the breakroom she could hear the television, but didn't hear any voices. She opened thedoor and immediately saw Theresa. She was sitting on the worn couch watching thedraw for the national lottery.The room was sparse with furniture.Besides the tired green couch, there was a scared coffee table and threeuncomfortable wooden chairs. Everything was pointed to the 15" portable thatsat on a stack of yellow pages and telephone directories. Theresa looked up and smiled briefly. "So, you feeling lucky?" Melanie glancedat the screen.Theresa shook her head.Melanie took a seat on the couch next toher. There was a long silence between them and Melanie knew she had to talkfirst."If you ever want to talk about anything,I'm here to listen."There was hesitation before Theresa said,"Thank you.""I know it would've helped me."Melanie left the door open for Theresa,thinking that she would talk whenever she was ready to. "They said something about training melater today. What does that mean?" Her voice was soft and clear, and Melaniethought it was a London accent. "It means they're going to take you into aroom and… have sex with you until you stop fighting."Theresa's disconnected demeanour changedlike a flick of a switch, she was now frozen with fear. Her body lurchedforward and was rigid. "They're going to want to get all theinitial shock and fight out of your system, before you start seeing clients.""No… no," she whispered. She stood up andwent to the window and pulled at the handle."It's locked and you can't jump that fardown.""It doesn't matter if I could, theythreatened to kill my family if I tried to escape." It saddened Melanie to see Theresa's desperation.It was the same desperation she went through and knew every girl, who becametrapped in this world, would go through. But to Melanie's surprise, Theresaturned around and leaned back against the window. She closed her eyes and tooka few short, deep breaths. When they opened there was no trace of panic anddesperation. Instead, there was only calmness, which Melanie couldn'tcomprehend. Theresa walked back to the couch and sat down. "Ok, ok," she whispered. She whisperedsomething else, but Melanie couldn't understand what she was saying. She thentook a few more deep breaths, before asking the question. "What happens inthese sessions?""You sure you want to hear this? Perhapsit's better if you –""No. I want to be prepared."Melanie was struck with awe. The resolvein Theresa's eyes was something she had not seen before from someone so young.She was still an adolescent as many of them were, but she had a maturity thatMelanie admired."There will be three of them. Two to holdyou down, whilst the other, you know. Each one will have their turn. They willhit and slap you into submission. Even tie you up if they have to.""How long does it last?""As long as it has to. Until they thinkyou have no fight left, and are willing to follow instructions."For a moment, Theresa looked incontemplation. "What if I explain to them that I'll follow instructions and dowhatever they want? Show them that I don't have any fight in me."Melanie shook her head. "It won't make anydifference. The training is not just to discipline you; it's also for them.They're going to want to have their way with you. These are dirty old men, whowould like nothing more than to be with a young innocent girl."Their conversation was cut short with thesound of high heels approaching the doorway. Two girls entered talking andlaughing; they walked around the coffee table and sat down on the woodenchairs. They were discussing the tips each of them made, and then one of themshared a story about a client who in her words "couldn't get it up."Melanie could see that Theresa was lookinginward. She wasn't panicking or complaining about her fate, she had alreadyaccepted it. She sat up straight on the couch, with her hands clasped together.It was as if she had a secret reserve of life experience she could call uponthat went beyond her adolescent years. Melanie thought back to when she learnedabout her training session. She was in pieces; she fought them all the way,which made matters worse. They eventually tied her up and took turns for anhour. She touched her face, remembering the hard slaps she endured and thebruises on her arms and legs.The break room's door suddenly swung open,which seemed to catch all by surprise. The chatter and laughter ceasedimmediately and Theresa was now alert, her eyes, like everyone else's lookingtoward the door. Ronny stepped inside and Melanie sensed that they were herefor Theresa. She saw two other men waiting outside, both younger than Ronny,but it seemed they lived the same lifestyle; both of their jackets sagged andone of them was drawing hard on a cigarette. Ronny was possessed once more;there was no grin, but his eyes widened when he saw Theresa. "Look at this gorgeous – Spanish bronze…"Ronny was caught up in looking at her from head to toe. He was under hypnosis."The fucking punters are going to love you," he said, pulling her off the couchby her arm. Melanie wished she had a weapon, somethingshe could use to put the animal down. Theresa looked back at her before she wasmanhandled out of the room. She looked terrified; her eyes wide in disbelief,and for a moment, Melanie thought she wanted to say something to her, perhaps aplea for help.When the door shut, the two girls in frontlooked back at Melanie and then at each other; they too knew what the score wasand from then on there was no more talking and laughing.      

Chapter 3
Melanie closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the noise around her.She hoped she didn't have to see any more clients, as she had already showeredand was comfortable and warm inside her bed. She was lying on her side, turnedtoward the wall so nobody could see her face; it was her only way of gettingsome solace. Melanie and some of the other girls hadleft the club a short while ago, and returned to the main brothel. It used tobe a large bed and breakfast, which needed little or no change for the newestablishment moving in. Unfortunately for Melanie, they were allcalled back from the club to service the waiting customers here. Melanie sawanother three clients. They were all brief appointments, as the clients onlywanted oral sex.She was now thinking about Theresa andhoped her ordeal was over. Two and a half hours had passed since she washustled out of the break room and she knew that Theresa wasn't back from theclub because she wasn't in her room. As far as Melanie knew, the other tworooms that housed the other girls were full. Inside her room, there were threegirls and two empty beds. Her mind drifted to what she had seen outof the window inside the far room at the club. Escaping from the club would beher best chance. In the brothel they had almost no freedom. They were onlyallowed to see clients on the floor below. Melanie felt a chill go through her, asshe heard a jangling of keys. She hoped she wasn't going to be called down tosee another client, and pulled the duvet over her face. She didn't know if shecould take anymore; her body was tired and aching. The door opened briefly,before she heard the turn of the lock, snapping back into place. She heardsomebody inside the room accompanied by muffled voices. She rolled over and sawTheresa walking towards her. There was an empty bed beside Melanie, who countedherself lucky to have gotten a spot in the corner of the room. She studied Theresa'sface but couldn't get a read on her thoughts. Her blank stare only told herthat perhaps she hadn't yet processed what had just happened. She rolled withher a small suitcase, which she left at the end of her bed, and it was onlywhen she sat down that Melanie noticed her red face.The silence was broken by whispers fromacross the room. Melanie had to vocally get her attention and out of herdistant gaze. "Theresa," she said. Theresa slowly looked down at her andMelanie knew exactly what she was thinking. She was reliving the past couple ofhours and trying to make sense of it. She felt dirty, worthless and most of allshe was filled with sorrow that Melanie knew by experience would turn intoanger. Melanie got out of bed and sat beside Theresa. She put her arm aroundher and gently pulled her close, easing her head onto her chest. She heldTheresa in her arms and listened to her cry.
Melanie awoke and her eyes focused on Theresa's bed but she wasn'tthere. She looked up and saw her at the window. It was still dark out and theonly source of light inside the room came from the glow of the streetlights,which splashed across the far sidewall and illuminated the corner of the room.Melanie slipped out from underneath her duvet and immediately felt the coldattack her. She fought off the chill and folded her arms tight to her chest,before walking to the window. The view offered a moment of escape, asyou were able to see some of the city below. There was a school with a largeplaying field next to a church. Beyond that there was a residential area andhigh street shops. Melanie often took in the view and watched the schoolchildren playing; she couldn't help but think that some of them were destinedto be locked away like she was now. Even though Melanie wasn't religious shespent time taking in the beautiful structure of the church and imagined for amoment just being inside such a holy place, where thoughts of tranquillitycalled to you. It was in these moments she contemplated on a higher power, animperishable pure energy, and it was then she felt comfort as if the hope andfight inside of her was re-energised. "Hey," said Melanie. Theresa put on a brave smile, as her eyes remained fixed on theopen expanse through the window. "Thank you," she said. "I wouldn't have gottenthrough last night without you.""You're welcome."They both gazed out into the darkness.Nothing needed to be said. Melanie followed Theresa's eye line and guessed shewas looking at the church. She wondered if the architecture spoke to her in thesame way, and if it too gave her comfort. "Do you believe in god?" Theresa asked,her eyes still in a distant gaze."Sometimes," said Melanie. "You?""Yes. I wouldn't be here without the one.""What religion do you follow?"Theresa now looked away from the window."I don't follow anything; I have learnt things about living a certainlifestyle." Melanie looked confused and was about toask a question, but Theresa already had the answer."Sikhi. I like to think of it as alifestyle rather then a religion.""I've never heard of that reli –lifestyle," she smiled."There was a girl I knew, who shared withme some of her life experiences. And I always asked to learn more. She wasoriginally from the U.S and she grew up with her family in New Mexico, whichhas a large population of Sikhs. Her parents came to the U.K to be closer tosome of their family, but she hopes to go back there when she's old enough. Isaid to her that I would go with her."Melanie thought about what she said andregretted the people she had crossed paths with in her life, who had nothingmore to offer then binge drinking or a drug habit. She wanted to ask morequestions but decided that Theresa had been through enough; she instead enjoyedthe view and the comfortable silence.
Even though Melanie didn't get a lot of sleep, she felt fresh andenergised. She wondered if any of it had to with her hope of escape. She lookedover and saw that Theresa wasn't there, but the sound coming from the bathroomtold her she was having a shower. Everyone else inside the room was asleep. Theresa came out silently, closing thedoor behind her."Morning miss sunshine," said Melanie."I'm used to being an early riser," shesaid smiling.Footsteps could be heard stopping outsidethe door, then came the familiar sound of the deadbolt clinking open. Sallywalked in with a scowl on her face. "Thought I'd heard voices. You two can getan early start on cleaning the bar." Sally was small and overweight, but it wasa mistake to underestimate her strength. Melanie had witnessed her throwing outclients from the club by the back of their necks. She spoke in a German accent,Melanie guessed, but her English was good. "I'll take you out for breakfast after, ifyou like."Sally's offer caught Melanie by surprise;it seemed out of character, but nevertheless she was grateful. After a quick shower, a man escortedTheresa and Melanie downstairs, and out to a waiting car. The man got into thefront passenger seat and another man was already waiting behind the wheel.Melanie recognised both men from the previous night – they stood outside thebreak room while Ronny came in to get Theresa. Melanie looked across at Theresa in thebackseat and knew by her trembling hands that she was aware of this too. She reachedacross and held it. She could see that Theresa was trying to be strong again.Her hard stare was out of the window, but she was deep in thought. The man in the passenger seat turned hishead. "You want sweet?" He held out the packet and looked from Melanie toTheresa.Melanie shook her head and looked back atTheresa, whose eyes were burning a hole through him. Her hard stare ebbed awayand now she looked in contemplation. Probably wondering how this man could rapeher, and act as if nothing had happened. Melanie often wondered if they hadmetal skulls with a processor chip as a brain, as she couldn't imagine a humanacting in this way – so devoid of emotion. She thought about their accents andsettled on Eastern European.  It was a short drive to the club, whichwas down a quiet street with nothing more than an off-license, a few takeawayshops and a rundown laundrette. Inside the club, Sally had already arrived,seated at one of the tables with her feet up, and talking on her phone. The twomen who followed them in joined her. Sally told the person on the other end tohold on."Clean out the upstairs and thendownstairs toilets. After we can all go to breakfast and then get you both someclothes. The other girls will clean the empties and the rooms, when their lazyass's get up."Since Sally had bought Melanie, theclothes she had with her weren't the clothes that were appropriate for the job.Most of what she had were jeans and T-shirts, instead of the short skirts,tight tops and high heels that were required.As Melanie began to walk towards the bar,Sally said something else. "You know where the mop and bucket is?"Melanie just turned and nodded. She walkedbehind the bar and down a narrow short hallway that was lined with boxes –mostly spirits and peanuts. At the end of the hallway, instead of turningright, to where the storage closet was, she went straight on. Theresa silentlyfollowed.At the end she saw a closed door. Beforeopening it she looked back and Theresa sensed, by her anxiousness, thatsomething wasn't right."What's wrong?""Nothing," she said. "I just need to checksomething."A rush of adrenaline coursed through herwhen the door opened, however, a metal grated door stood in front of her. Shequickly reached for the gold knob but it was locked, as she expected. The doorled to an abandoned expanse that was heavily littered with old takeaway bagsand boxes. Further ahead was the rear of a closed-down shop. The white stripesof paint that marked out parking spaces were still there, however the shop'swindows were boarded up. "What're you doing?"Melanie pointed to the alleyway to the farright of the expanse. "Finding us a way out of here.""We can't just run, what about ourfamilies? They know where we live.""We'll have to figure that out after."Melanie closed the door and turned to face Theresa, who looked uncertain. "Wecan do this, ok; we can do this."Theresa nodded and sighed, giving in toMelanie's hope and enthusiasm.As they made their way back and passed thecorridor that led to the bar, they heard Sally still on the phone. Nothing more was said between them, asthey opened the storage closet. They each pulled out a pair of latex gloves,slipped them on, and then tore off several black bin liners and stuffed theminto their jean pockets. Theresa squirted, what looked like cheap,floor cleaner into a bucket and then waited for the hot water to rise inside.After, they rolled the bucket out to the bar, using the two mops inside, topush it along. Sally was still talking on the phone, andfrom what was heard it sounded like she was negotiating something. The two menseated at the table looked disinterested in what she was saying. Once moving through the side door, bothgirls grabbed the metal rod and slowly climbed the stairs, being careful not tospill the water. Again this was done in silence. They could still hear Sally,which meant anything they said would be heard too. At the top of the stairsthey went right and headed for the toilets, adjacent to the break room. Inside the Men's toilets, Theresa spokefirst. "How did you know about the alleyway?"Melanie lifted her dripping mop andsqueezed it out in the small plastic grated basin in the bucket. "I saw it theother night, from the room I was in.""You think it's possible?""Only one way to find out. The other girlsmaybe too scared or too comfortable to find a way out, but not me.""Comfortable?"Melanie nodded. "Instead of looking for away out, they're looking for a way in, hoping to get to the top whore houses,where the real money is made. If you ask me, no amount of money is worth this.""I guess we don't know what's going oninside their head. Their reality is different from ours."Melanie nodded and then sighed, looking atthe mess around her. "Guess we better get started."The Men's didn't require much cleaning, sothey just gave the floor a once over. In the Ladies, however, there was a lotof work to do. Tissues and facial wipes overflowed the bin and ended upscattered on the floor. Discarded lipstick, mascara bottles and other litterwere on the work surface, around the basins.Melanie sighed. "Shit."They decided to clean the three cubicletoilets first, before dealing with the floor. Once they had finished cleaningthe toilets, Theresa emptied the overflowed bin and Melanie worked on pickingup what was left on the floor."Theresa."Theresa looked up from the knot she wastying in one of the bin liners.Melanie held up a clear plastic bag thathad a white powder residue."No prizes for guessing what was in here.""How could they afford to get hold of thatstuff?""Who knows what Sally's connections are?Perhaps the girls get a discount. Either way, some girl needed a boost to gether through the night or didn't want to face the night ahead of her sober."Melanie and Theresa spent the next fifteenminutes sweeping up litter, before returning downstairs. As they entered behindthe bar, they could hear Sally talking, now to the two men who had brought themhere. She didn't look up or pause mid sentence, as the girls rolled the bucketacross the room, towards the other set of toilets. Before Theresa passed through thethreshold, Melanie pulled her in by her arm and pushed the door shut.  "Did you see that?""See what?" said Theresa."The set of keys next to Sally on thetable. They must be for the club, which means one of them is for the backdoor.""We better find out if they are, before wetry and figure out how to get hold of them."Melanie nodded. For the time being they got on with themundane job of mopping the floor and emptying the bins. Melanie's mind was onthe big bunch of keys she saw next to Sally on the table. She wondered how shewould find out if one of them opened the door to their freedom. "How about after we're done here, we tellSally we heard kids or something out back?" said Theresa.Melanie came out of one of the cubicles."That could work."They made quick work of the toilets andMelanie led the way out. She carried with her two-stuffed bin liners, andTheresa pushed along the bucket with the two mop handles sticking out like anold school television aerial. Sally was still at the same table, smoking acigarette and talking to one of the men who brought them here. The other man,the shorter of the two, was at the bar, pouring a bottle of J20 into a pintglass. He gawked at both girls, who walked behind the bar and Melanie couldfeel his eyes on her. When she looked up at him his eyes had moved to Theresa.She knew his perverse stare was sending chills through Theresa's body, as itused to for her. As they proceeded down the hallway,Melanie looked back and could see Theresa reliving the events of the nightbefore. Her eyes were down at the floor and were looking inward. She wanted toput an arm around her but she had no hands spare. Instead, she offered asympathetic expression and said. "You ok?"Theresa looked up. "I saw that same lookwhen he was… you know, last night."Melanie nodded and understood her pain;she tried to change the subject. "Once we find out which key, we'll be close togetting out of here, ok?"Theresa nodded. "I'm sorry I just…""Hey, you got nothing to be sorry about."Theresa smiled. "You're right."After they replaced the mops and bucketback into the storage cupboard and disposed of the rubbish in a dumpster alongthe hallway, Melanie led the way to the bar. As she approached the table, thetwo men were talking amongst themselves in their native language. Sally – whowas on her third cigarette judging by the crumpled butts inside the ashtray –stood up. "You girls finished?" she said. "Yes, we're done," replied Melanie, "but Ithink I heard some kids messing around out back. It's probably nothing but…"A grimace etched its way on to Sally'sface, as her brow dropped. "These fucking kids," she said before stepping backtowards the table and picking up the large set of keys, all bunched together ona small key chain. As she walked behind the bar and down thehallway, Melanie and Theresa walked closely behind, hoping she wouldn't have aproblem with it. Melanie heard the keys jangling, as Sallylooked for the backdoor key, however, her wide body blocked any view to seewhich key she selected. Sally opened the first door and peeredthrough the metal grate that separated them from the outside world. Melaniestood behind, breath held, realising that she may not go and look outside. Butafter several agonising seconds, Sally forced the key into the hole and openedthe back door. She stepped out, cautiously looking both ways in case somebodywas hiding either side. She then scanned the neglected clearing.While Sally was checking out what shethought was trouble, Melanie signalled Theresa to stand in the doorway, whileshe stooped down to look at the key. It had a hexagonal shape and the lettersJMG imprinted on one side. She quickly flicked through the other keys asquietly as she could and couldn't see any key that had both a similar shape andsize. When Sally walked back in from the cold, rubbing her hands together,Melanie pretended to look at the lock on the outer side of the metal door. "I thought I heard someone tampering withthe lock, but I can't see anything.""It's probably just some fucked up kids,drinking or getting high," said SallyMelanie nodded and then smiled at Theresaafter Sally walked past.

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Tony Robbins - A Strategist / Life Coach (Not a motivational speaker!)

When my brother first gave me a Tony Robbins audio, along with a strong endorsement, I was intrigued. I inserted it into my Playstation and sat back, a little sceptical (code word for fear!). After the first two minutes I had a big smirk across my face. This wasn't just because of Tony's great sense of humour, which cracked me up a lot, but I now had a sense of a lifeline.

I had no real direction in my life, but after listening for a few minutes It was as if a veil had been removed from my face and I could see things I couldn't before. To be honest it was overwhelming - a stream of possibilities, tools and techniques and I had to listen to his audio CD's several times as he packed in so much.

To fans of Tony Robbins, it may seem like, he's one of the most famous people in the world, but in reality not many people outside of the arena of Coaching, have probably heard of him. He's like the man behind the curtain, watching on as his new friends perform on the stage of life. He doesn't seek credit for their success but is gracious when it comes his way.

I often wish my characters in the novels that I write, could attend one of his seminars or get a one on one session with him, because sometimes they need it! Talking of which, I am planning on attending my first seminar next year. I remember a few years back my brother and I were watching a trailer of the Unleash the Power seminar, and we were pumped, and talking about what it would be like to go, and now it can finally happen.

In some ways I can't help but think of myself as Tony's PR, as I'm constantly bringing up his stuff with friends. Some say I should actually just go and be part of the sales force, and get paid for all the stuff I say now. I actually plan on working for Tony in the future. I don't say this with ego, but with a belief and certainty; I would love to be part of his coaching team, as I get so much from serving people and giving my all to help - whatever it takes!

This short note, is all about gratitude and sharing my appreciation for a man who sets the standards and is a role model for what's possible. I'm just going to end this with a magic moment: Before being introduced to Tony Robbins, I was struggling with my degree, while at University. I wasn't doing terrible, but I wasn't anyway near to fulfilling my potential. After listening to Get the Edge and various other audio's, I ended up being awarded a First in my BSc Honours Degree.

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The Written Word That Gives Us So Much

I appreciate books that are written with emotion.  Usually this is portrayed in the characters,the rhythm of the story – where the flow captures you like a wave, and you letit carry you to the end. Most of all you discover a book that you reallyconnected with when you finish the last page, the last word and close it. Youfeel your heart sink a little, already missing the characters, the world thatwas created for you to step into. It's as if you are now standing outside inthe cold, and you want nothing more than to step back into the warmth again,and get some shelter from the storm of life.

As a writer I try and take all that I get from reading andput that into my books. I write for those who need escape, who need motivation,and most of all for those who need comforting. I try writing about charactersthat one can draw from, sympathise with, and maybe gain inspiration from. Iwrite stories that have underlying meanings, not just a thriller or a suspensenovel to allow an individual to forget or indulge for the time they read. Icraft stories, that I would like to have read, stories with substance and agrain of truth to them.
My dream would be to make enough income from my writing tolive off of, but I don't write for the money. I don't treat writing as abusiness, as a lot of successful authors do. That's not to say that they'rewrong for doing so, I have no right to judge anybody or anyone, but only tellyou my view on what I do. My top priority as a writer is to entertain, inspire,and move the reader. Have my words put a smile on the reader's face, one ofthose smiles that last way after the text that gave them that elation.
My biggest reward from my writing besides the gift of beingable to write would be feedback from the readers. The few good words I havereceived for my writing already, have really been the highlights of my work –to know my words have had an impact on somebody else walking the earth. Eventhough I make an income from my writing, I like to think of it as giving orproviding a service. And receiving messages from readers that they have enjoyedmy work gives me validation for that service.
Right now I'm at the beginning of my journey. I amstill trying to create a readership among my stories. In a world ofcompetitiveness it's hard to put yourself out there and try and market yourbooks, when you see so much success around you. It's tough not to getoverwhelmed and discouraged that your stories will find their way to thereaders who will love them. They're out there somewhere; I just wish I couldfind them. I don't say this with arrogance, but with a belief that if thestories that I have written have touched me, surely this would apply to others.I can only persevere and keep hope and also allow a little room for faith thateverything will work out.


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Why I Admire Floyd Mayweather

I have never met Floyd Mayweather. I have never been to seeany of his fights in person, and despite a sizable population of boxing fans,who may not support him, he is a man I model myself from and look up to.
For most of my life, I have never really had muchself-confidence or belief. I often shied away from situations and circumstancesthat would challenge me and test my will power. I would accept what theenvironment gave me, instead of creating my own success and growing as an individual.Fortunately for me, I learned a skill set that would change my life – modelling.I looked at the people already succeeding in a particular area and modelledtheir actions and beliefs.
The first time I actually saw a Floyd Mayweather fight, wasagainst Ricky Hatton. I didn't have anything against Floyd, but being from theU.K, I was behind Hatton, all the way. Of course I was disappointed with theresult, but this was when I began learning about Floyd Mayweather.
I hear a lot of talk about Floyd Mayweather. A lot of it isnegative, and whether that is jealousy or perhaps something deeper within theindividual's feelings against him, I do not know and do not pay any attention.When I see Floyd Mayweather I don't see a man who is rich, who owns many homesand cars. I don't see the negative press and public opinion about the way heconducts his life, I see someone who has unbelievable self-belief andconfidence. A fighting will power – both literally and fictitiously – a man whoknows what he wants and gets it. My characters in the novels I write often havesimilar values – that fighting spirit and tenacity.
People can judge Floyd Mayweather for what he says and theway he conducts himself, as everyone is entitled to their opinion, but they cannever question, his extraordinary belief, his unquestionable will, and thestandards he sets for what's possible in life.
Thank you, Floyd, for instilling those values in me, forraising my standards for what's possible, and showing me how to infuse thatconfidence and self-belief that I have been missing for most of my life.
"Hardwork & Dedication." – Floyd Mayweather.


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Crossroads

Robert Bateman sat at the counterof a bar. He drained the remaining contents of his scotch and ordered another.      "That kind of day?"      Robert looked up at the tall blonde woman.He nodded and smiled, and she sat down on one of the stools further down, butstill within a comfortable conversation range.       He was at Heathrow airport his flight hadlanded early. He came here for the quietness and not the alcohol. The lightingwas dull and the black marble counter, and dark tables and chairs gave the roomsoftness on the eyes. It was like being in a sanctuary, away from the hustleand bustle where at airports there was never rest bite, just waves of peoplewith their luggage.       The mellow jazz music put a ribbon on theplace and even the bar staff spoke to customers with an easy gracefulness, asif they had each come off of a long haul flight and wanted nothing more, then adrink and to be left alone with their thoughts.      Robert absently watched the blonde womanin the reflection of a long narrow mirror that was behind the bar and ran abovethe display of colourful bottles. He loosened his tie and undid the top buttonof his shirt, while he took in the slow and delicately played saxophone comingthrough the speakers above.       When Robert regained his focus, herealised that the blonde woman was staring back at him through the mirror. Heturned to her and involuntarily smiled, a little embarrassed.      "I was curious to what you were thinking,"she said stirring her drink with her red straw.       "I was listening to the music, admiringthe saxophone."      "Are you into Jazz?"      "No. This is probably my first real tasteof it." Robert took in her long red coat, cream skirt and brown heels.       "You have that look again," she said.      Robert arched his brow. "Excuse me?"      "You're thinking about something orchecking me out."      "I was thinking of something," he saidwithout delay. "Not that you are… I mean I was." He took in a deep breath andlet it out, to untangle himself. "I was thinking that you were either inMarketing or pharmaceuticals."      "I'm in advertising."       "Interesting," said Robert.      She laughed. "Be honest."       "I'm sorry?"       "You're doing that thing people do, whenthey first meet someone, they have this overwhelming urge to be nice, even ifit's a lie."      "So I shouldn't be nice?"      "No. You shouldn't have to lie to benice."      "That's true. You're right, peopleshouldn't have to do that." Robert then laughed. He tried to suppress it, butfailed. "I'm sorry, I just realised that we are having a conversation aboutconversation, unless the scotch has gotten to me."      The blonde woman laughed and extended herhand. "Elise."      He shook it. "I'm Robert."      "So I have a question for you Robert." Shewas interrupted by the barmaid's soothing offer for more drinks. "I'll haveanother one and – " She looked over at Robert, whose glass was empty.      "I'll just have a Coke thanks," he said.      The bar maid smiled and put down two morenapkins.      Elise continued. "Why is a married man,such as yourself, hanging around in a semi empty bar after their flight?"      Robert glanced at her left hand and saw aring.      Elise followed his eye line. "Don't worryI'll reciprocate."       "My flight arrived early."      When Elise swung around on her stool toface him, Robert admired her face. She was beautiful in a plain and subtle way,and her features reminded him of the actress Olivia Wilde, only with longblonde hair.      "Ok that was a deflection, from the realanswer."      Robert pressed his lips together to stophimself from smiling, but his cheeks gave him away. "You're very direct, aren'tyou?"      "Well usually small talk is just an icebreaker, to have a real conversation and since I don't have the patience, andwe're probably never going to see each other again, I thought I'd dive rightin."      "That actually makes sense." Robert lookedat his own reflection in the black marble in front of him, half expecting thereto be no one sitting to his right when he looked back up. "Ok, I'm afraid to gohome to my wife."      She nodded and took a sip of her drink andwaited for the rest.      Robert took a big gulp from his glass, toget some more courage before realising he had switched to Cokes. "I don't loveher anymore, or maybe I didn't to begin with." He sighed and pinched his nose, indisbelief at the conversation he was having.       "You go," he said.      "Ok, I'm here because, I know if I go homeearly I will catch my husband probably having sex with my next door neighbour'sdaughter."      "Interesting, and I really mean it thistime." Robert quickly dropped his brief smile. "I'm sorry – that's for makingan inappropriate joke and the affair."      Elise smiled. "They've been at it for sixmonths now."      "Six months? You must really love him," hesaid with apprehension.      "I love him, but not like, in denial andclinging on to him out of desperation."      "Then why haven't you called your husbandup on it?"      "Because, he'll choose her over me andwe'll get divorced."      "So you love him and are ok with himhaving an affair, while you work?"      "No, of course not, but it's better thendivorce. I'm so busy with my job, I travel a lot and it's comforting to know Ihave someone waiting for me when I come home."      "Ok," said Robert, smiling down at hisdrink.      "You want to add something to that smile?"      "That's one good rationalisation, you gotyourself there. Very creative, that's probably why you're in advertisingright?"      "Very clever, perhaps I should've got youa diet coke, with all that caffeine –"      "I'm not judging but –"      "You think I'm wrong?"      Robert shook his head. "Just calling ithow I see it."      "So lets go back to you, why haven't youconfronted your wife?"      "I'm scared to break her heart and takethat step of ending it. See, I can be honest about it."      "I'm being dishonest?" she said.      "No, but you're deluding yourself… forgetit." Robert took a sip from his glass to break the nervous tension.      "I want to hear what you have to say."      Robert swivelled round on his stool toface her. "Ok, I think you're just like me. You're scared to take that step. Thingsmaybe comfortable for you, they are for me, but surly you can't settle forhaving someone to eat dinner with at home, instead of the relationship you hadwith him before this affair. Whatever happens you're not going to be trulyhappy again, and… I'm not going to be either."      There was a change in direction and Robertdidn't know how they got there, but each told the other their up bringing,first loves, first time they had sex and all the way to where they were today.       Elise was very specific: two seriousboyfriends, a total of four lovers and seventeen was the lucky year for her,which in today's standards was late. She had worked in Boots in the cosmetic'ssection, where she was allowed to be in charge of the advertising of offers,which were the roots of her life now.      Robert had missed his train by somemargin, and he had to wait until he was twenty after some embarrassingsituations where he had everything but a condom and once an erection. He workedinside nearly every supermarket chain and was taking computers apart by thetime he was finishing high school.      Robert was back staring at the blackmarble trying to look into his distorted eyes for answers. His thoughts hadcircled back to his wife.        "I'm hungry, are you hungry?"      He looked up not at first fullyregistering the question. "I'm starving."      They left the secluded bar and joined thewave briefly before entering a restaurant. It was evening, and they hadfortunately missed the rush hour of the other passengers. They sat at a tableagainst the far wall towards the corner and were now looking at menus.      "Is this weird and comfortable at the sametime?" asked Elise.      "I couldn't have said it better."      The waitress had just approached theirtable for drink orders.      "He'll have a Diet Coke," she saidand smiled.      Robert shook his head at her. "I'll have aCoke please, no ice."      "I'll have the same."       The Restaurant seemed to cater for everything from pies to Chinesefood.      Robert put down his menu. "See anythingyou like the look of?"      "I'm thinking of getting a pizza, theirdeep pan looks good."      "Me too, why don't we split one."      "Ok, I was thinking of getting theHawaiian."      The waitress set their drinks down.      "Pineapple? You're actually one of thosepeople who likes pineapple on your pizza."      "One of those people, and what'swrong with pineapple?"      "It's a pizza, who puts fruit on a pizza,it's like having slices of celery in your fruit salad."      "So everything needs to be in its rightfulplace. Fruit can't jump ship. A pizza can't be creative. You're not allowed tohave rich soft cheese with tender ham and the punch of pineapple."      "So you're advertising a Hawaiian pizza tome now?"      Elise started to laugh. "Have you evertried it?"      "No."      "Ok, it's settled that's what we'regetting."      "Do you boss your husband around likethis?"      "No, he's actually got some balls and canstand up for himself."      "I was being polite, you might want to trythat sometime between your advertising campaigns."      Elise raised her glass and Robert raisedhis.      "What are we toasting to?" he asked.      "To, not talking about either of ourspouses during this entire meal."      "Sounds good."      "So you never told me what you do."      "I'm a trainer for this software program,that's used in most major IT companies."      "Interesting," said Elise burstinginto laughter.      Robert smiled and watched her, cupping herhands over her mouth. There was something about her when she laughed, her wholeface lit up and it drew him in.       "I knew you were going to say that," hesaid pointing a fork at her.       "I couldn't resist, but seriously thatsounds like the most boring job I've ever heard of."      "You would be right, and the money is notgreat, certainly not better then what you get for saying tender ham and thepunch of pineapple."      "How much do you make?"      Robert was caught off guard. His mouthopened and then closed while his tongue began pressing up against the inside ofhis cheek. He remembered what she had said about small talk and never seeingher again.      "£35,000, before tax and benefits."       Elise nodded and did her best to berespectful, but her face told a different story.      "You can say what you're thinking," hesaid.      "Unless you've just changed careers,that's umm… how long have you been in the job?"      "Eight years… wow, that is actually prettyshit. Can't believe I'm only just realising that. I already regret asking this,what about you?"      "£70,000"      "You can be honest, you don't have to holdback, it's not as if I can feel worse." Robert took a long suck on his straw."      "£200,000, or there about."      A spray of Coke erupted from his mouth andwent all over the table. It dripped off of the desert menu in the centre andreached across to Elise's side, although avoided splashing her. This sparked afit of laughter and they each fuelled the other. At one point Robert got to thestage where his muscles stiffened up and he hunched forward as he felt a stitchin his gut. They were in recovery laughs, between large gulps of air, as thewaitress came over with paper towels and couldn't help but smile at the two ofthem.      "I think we know who's taking care of thebill," said Robert helping mop up the last of his drink. "But seriously, I'mglad I caught an earlier flight."      "I'm glad I have to wait for my husband tofinish having sex." Her smile faded slightly when she said this. Robert was onto it and knew the joke hurt her.      "Lets play the what if game," he said tojolt her out of going into a dark passage of thought.       "The what game?"      "Ok, so I come up with a 'what if'scenario and you have to answer it."      "I see someone wants to relive theirchildhood."      "I saw it on a show, and yes adults wereplaying and it was fun."      "Ok, you go."      Robert leaned forward. "Ok, what if youcould go back and redo school and university again, what would you be?"      "That's actually a good what if… Ok, letme think about this… Maybe a vet, I've always loved animals." She put her handout palm up, signalling him to go.      "A musician."      Elise cracked a smile and looked down atthe table.      "What?"      "I couldn't imagine you rocking a stage."      "Not like that, like I would want to playpiano, be a composer or something. Creative and good money, but out of thespotlight."      "That's nice I like that," said Elise."Ok, what if you had your choice of where you could live?"      Robert's eyes wondered around therestaurant that was now a little busier but everyone was spread out giving abubble of privacy between parties. "Chicago."      "Why Chicago?"      "I don't know, from what I've seen inepisodes of ER, I like it and I know it's got a lot of culture, also it's closeto Canada, which is somewhere I've always been fond of."      "I love that show, and even though I'veseen it so many times, if I see that it's on TV again, I get sucked in andwatch it. Were you teary eyed at the end?"      "No comment."      "I never pegged you as sensitive." Robertbegan to go red, it felt like he was back at school and he was talking to thehottest girl there. "Ok, back to business," she said. "I would say maybesomewhere in Spain or Portugal, close to Africa, if I was a vet I would want tohelp there too."      "What about if you were still inAdvertising?"      "Somewhere beachy, like SouthernCalifornia or Florida."      Their pizza was here and Robert hadforgotten about the pineapple. Elise took a slice and bit into it. There was a pleasantsurprise for him when he had a taste. It was good.       "So? How is it?"      "It's ok, I mean I can stomach it."      "You like it, I can tell by your eyebrowtwitching just before."      They had a long moment of comfortablesilence while they focused on eating, this was acknowledged with severaloccasions of eye contact and subtle smiles.       "What are we doing here?" said Robert outof the blue.      "I don't know, having fun? Should we feelguilty about it?"      "I'm not sure. You shouldn't, but Ishould, or maybe I shouldn't. I mean this is just one conversation right?"      "Right, we're just avoiding going home, asstrange as that sounds."      In just a moment it seemed as if theirbubble had been burst with a huge spear that brought them back to reality andwhat they had to face.       The silence brought a coldness to theplace and the comfort between them had evaporated.       "Do you want to go home?" said Elise. Itwas asked in a serious tone, not a flicker of flippancy that other questionshad been asked in.       Robert put down his half eaten slice ofpizza and for the first time he felt like he did when he would insert his keyand open his front door.       "No," he said.      "Ok, this is going to sound a littlecrazy, but what if we don't go back home."      Robert's brow stitched together. "Thenwhere do we go?"      "What I mean is what about if we go homebut just to get our stuff and then leave."      "You mean confront our partners?"      "Something like that."      "Together?"      "It depends where you live, but yeah, Iguess that's what I'm saying. Perhaps together we can do what we should've donea long time ago."      "I live in Reading," he said.      "Ok, I live in Oxford."      Robert blew out his breath and his heartwas thumping. But there was a sense of relief moving through him, when hethought about the possibility of being free. After an intense stare at the saltand pepper shaker, at the side of the table, he locked eyes with Elise. "Letsdo it."      "Ok, but it's not enough to just give averbal declaration. It's easy to say here, but when you get to the front door,all that strength and conviction abandons you."      "Sounds like you're talking fromexperience."      "Lots of experience."      "So what do we do?"      "We have to burn the bridge, where wecan't go back and there's no choice but to tell them."      There was no brainstorming, no discussion,it seemed as if they were telekinetic. Elise had a large expense account andused it to get a suite at the Marriott. As soon as Elise pushed open the door,she moved in and began kissing Robert, and led him into the suite. His bodytensed and he stepped back breaking it off.      Elise closed the door behind her.      "Shouldn't we talk before we do this," hesaid.      "The only thing we'll end up doing, istalking ourselves out of this." She stepped closer to him. Their eyes met brieflywith an intensity, and the next moment they were both locked into a kiss andheading towards the bed.
Robert rolled overand collapsed on his back, his heart humming along, his mind now calm. Hestared at the white ceiling in disbelief at what he had done. He suddenly feltElise's hand interlock with his.       "Now for the hard part," she said.      Elise was now behind the wheel of a rentedRange Rover; they were now on the M4 heading towards Reading.       "So what do I say to her?"      "Don't think about it," said Elise. "Justgo inside and say what you're feeling, that's it, that's all you can do. Ofcourse be elegant and let her down gently."      "Ok, so how do I be elegant?"      "Think about it, how would you like to betold. Imagine if your wife didn't love you, what would you want her to say?"      Robert watched Elise browsing herplay-list on her iPod touch. He could smell the hotel's body wash on her, itwas jasmine, he remembered, and the fragrance gave him a warm feeling inside.He looked away when Elise looked up sensing something.      "Maybe I would say, how much she has gotgoing for her and that we're just different." Robert looked over at her forapproval.      "That's a good direction to go in."      "What would you do?"      "Probably the same. I would also, holdtheir hands and look into their eyes, while I talk. It's hard to do but it'svery powerful."      "Is this from Advertising 101?"      Elise smiled. "Just a life skill I'vepicked up on the way."      Robert stared outside his window at thepassing dark hills, and the thick green trees scattered over them. He felt asharp sense of doom and also uncertainty, and wanted this car journey to lastas long as possible. As his gaze fell on a line of white and orange cones andflashing yellow lights, where construction work was being done, he realisedmusic was playing. A long drawn out sound from an electric guitar proved to bethe perfect driving song. He searched his mind for a minute going through hisalbum collection. Then the movie Heat came to him. It was Moby's  'New Dawn Fades'. There was also a stiffcold breeze, and Robert turned to see that the window had been inched downallowing for the air to blow onto her face, and through her blonde tresses. Upahead he saw the junction sign for Reading, and looked over to Elise, who offereda hopeful smile.      "Just up here on the left," said Robert.As soon as the car halted, he felt cold and his hands were trembling and moist.      He looked over at Elise, with his hand onthe door handle.      "You'll do fine," she said.      He nodded and got out of the car.       As soon as he stepped inside his house, heheard movement from the living room. His wife – Julia – came out, with asurprised smiley face. "I thought you were coming in late." She hugged him.      "I managed to catch an earlier flight."      "Come inside, I was just eating pizza."      As she walked back into the room he said,"with pineapple?"            "I'm sorry?"      Robert stepped into the room. "Nothing."He sat down and the first thing he did was look toward the window, but thethick white curtain gave him zero sight outside.      "Dig in," she said. "How was your trip?"      "It was interesting," he said.       Julia looked at him, while taking a bite. "You're actuallyserious, you found it, interesting? What was different about this one?"      Robert looked out at the curtain again,with false hope that maybe this time he could see her sitting inside the car.      Julia looked over at him, and it was easyto see that something was wrong.      "What is it?" she said, putting the pizzadown in the box.       Robert hesitated but then reached out andheld her hands, and looked into her eyes. He immediately wanted to look away,but he dug deep and his eyes were beginning to water without him saying a word.      Julia nervously smiled and looked aroundthe room, confused, however Robert stuck to his task and held his eye contact.       "You have been nothing but supportive ofme, given me so much and… I've been doing some serious thinking." Julia's smilefaded and her face dropped. There was only dread in her eyes. "I'm not in lovewith you anymore. You're like my best friend but – I don't feel that specialconnection with you."      Julia's face was stiff with shock. Shedropped her head and then suddenly looked back up again, to check if this wassome sick joke.      Robert, who still hadn't broken eye contact,bit his lip. "I'm so sorry, Julia," was all he could say.      Julia's face pinched and tears seemed toshoot down her face. She clamped her hand across her mouth and nose. Robertwanted to reach out to comfort her, but decided against it.      "I'm so sorry."      Julia's sobs were now intense and theybuilt up to a loud wrenching cry, which made her lurch forward. "Please – no… please."      Her forehead was now resting on Robert'sleg. He felt her tears soak through his trousers. He gritted his teeth, andgently placed his hand on her head. He sat with her for twenty minutes; she satwiping her tears off her reddened face, and then stayed completely still beforeanother wave of cries erupted within her.       When she had calmed, he didn't have totell her that he would be leaving the house tonight.      "I need to be alone," she said. "I needyou to go."      "I understand." He stood and realised thateverything he needed was in his suitcase in the back of the Range Rover. Therewas nothing left for him to do, but walk out. He felt like he needed to saysomething before he left, some kind parting words, something that wouldpenetrate the pain inside of her. But one more look into her eyes and herealised there was nothing that could be said. He turned and walked away.      As he approached the car, he could seethat Elise was asleep.      She stirred when he opened the door, andher eyes were fluttering when the door closed. She looked over at Robert whosat bolt upright, staring out the front window, but he wasn't looking outside.      A tear escaped his eye and he sighed whenhe felt it. "Damn it," he said rubbing it away.       Elise moved her hand onto his knee, andeventually he put his hand on hers.      "Lets go," he said.      She moved away from the curb and Robertglanced at the lighted window, as they passed.      The first half hour was silent, but therewasn't any tension inside the car, because of the music playing. Right nowNe-yo's 'Miss Independent' seemed to lighten the mood.      Robert looked over at Elise. He saw thather long hair had been tied back into a ponytail, and she had removed her redcoat.       "What are you going to say to him?" hesaid.      Elise kept her eyes on the road. "Iprobably won't have to say too much, by the time we get there, he'll still bewith her."      "So you're planning to just walk in onthem?"      "That's the plan, preferably when they arehaving sex, cause then all of this will be easier to do."      "How did you first find out about this?"      "I got suspicious when he reminded me tocall him from the airport, to say that I had arrived safely. The next trip Itook, I got back to the house and then called him to say that I had landed. Isaw Stacy – the eighteen-year-old next door – and my husband sharing a good-byekiss at my front door. I looked through the rubbish and found condoms, andchecked his phone. He still hadn't deleted his phone sex messages with her."      "So you still have doubts about what'sgoing on?" said Robert, but his sarcasm didn't elicit the smile he wanted fromher. It was her turn now to be tense and anxious.      They were now off the motorway and drivingthrough a residential area.     "Could youplease come inside with me?"      Robert turned in his seat. "I was actuallyhoping you would ask."      This time Elise managed a nervous smile."I'm guessing for the entertainment rather than moral support."      "I'd say 60/40."      The Range Rover stopped outside a tall,and wide neatly trimmed hedge. When Robert leaned forward in his seat, he couldsee the partial paved driveway and the corner of what was a very large house,set back behind the lawn.      When Robert entered through the open gatebehind Elise, he could now see the lush lawn and a pond in the corner.      At the house, Elise peered inside thelighted window, and then stepped back.      "They're having wine and sitting verycomfortably, if you know what I mean."      "I think I do."      "Come on let's sit, I'm sure they won't beable to keep their pants on for much longer."      "Let's hope so," he replied with too muchenthusiasm.      Elise glanced at him and raised her brow.      "Sorry," he said.      They sat down on a bench, which was on thelawn, so they could also see the lights inside the living room.      "How do you know there not just having sexright there on the couch?"      "Because we tried and –"      "And…"      "It's not comfortable."      After ten minutes, one of the bedroomlights came on, sending out another glare onto the grass.      "We're in business," said Robert.      Elise slowly opened the front door steppedinside and listened. She heard what she perceived as laughter, and started toclimb the stairs. As she walked along the landing, she could hear heavybreathing and moans from Stacy.       She now stood outside the door, alongsideRobert.      "What're you waiting for?"      "I'm not sure," said Elise.      "Ok, you're not getting cold feet now."Robert stepped forward and opened the door.      "What – stop!" But it was too late. Eliselocked eyes with Stacy, who was on top of her husband - David. The couple onthe bed were frozen in shock for a few seconds, and then David rolled Stacy offof him and sat up in the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but there were nowords to explain.       Elise stepped inside, which is when Davidran his fingers through his long brown hair and apologised.      "Shut up," said Elise. "I'm not here foryour apologies. I'm just going to grab my stuff and I'll be out of here. I knowyou love her, and eventually you would leave me for her, so I'm saving you thetrouble. Even though I should, I don't blame you for fucking someone – someone,who's still just a child – behind my back." Elise glanced at Stacy. "Nooffence, Stacy. I've known about this for months, and I should've confrontedyou earlier. But it seems as if you're coping with that guilt just fine, on topof our silk sheets, which were a wedding present, by the way. Anyways, I hopeyou two will be happy, I sincerely mean that."      Elise spun around and took a few stepstowards the door before turning back. "Oh, this is Robert – Robert this is ournext door neighbours daughter, Stacy, and my soon to be ex-husband, David. Shewalked out of the room leaving Robert in her wake. He managed a nod, and thenquickly followed her out closing the door.      Back inside the Range Rover, Elise startedthe car and then suddenly started hitting the steering wheel, accidentallysounding the horn a couple times. She broke down in tears and let her head restagainst the steering wheel. Robert eased her into his arms and held her.      When the tears stopped, she moved aroundto face Robert and kissed him. She then started the car.      "Where are we going to go?"      "The nearest Marriott hotel," she said. "Iwas thinking maybe some TV, room service, and maybe have sex."      "Sounds like a plan." 


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Why I Love Watching, Reading & Writing Crime Fiction

Of course I know that Fiction is Fiction. It's made upimaginary stuff that gets written down for books or filmed for TV. Then whydoes it have such an impact on my life, especially the Crime genre?
I firmly believe that writing saved me. It shaped who I amtoday and kept me away from a destructive path that I could easily have takenwithout consideration. One big influence that led me to writing was watching TVshows and reading books. Those two mediums impacted me tremendously.
In regards to books, it was Thomas Harris's Hannibal Lecterseries. Even though the character was dark and lets say, he had some issues,I loved his intellect and what made him tick. Another author, Michael Connelly,who writes about a gritty detective, who is an outsider to society, probablyhad the biggest impact to why I write today. These Crime stories were filledwith intrigue and undertones of the dark society that really exists. I rememberreading these books and thinking I want to create worlds like this in my ownway. There was never any hesitancy of if I could do it or not. I was justpumped to create some thrilling, suspenseful and meaningful storytelling, whichwould do more than provide escape for the reader, as those books did for me.
When it came to TV I used to watch shows like The Shield& Prison Break, ER & good old 24 and still watch some now: Dexter &House.  They were steeped with not justsuspenseful and thrilling storylines, but it was the complex characters thatdid it for me most. It sounds silly but I used to be inspired by them, weatherit be a Jack Bauer or a Dexter Morgan.
This is why I love writing about crime; a dangerous worldthat I can experience through words. To create complex characters that lingerin the mind, even if the book is not in front of them or even if it has beencompleted and returned back to the shelf. And usually in the crime genre,characters are darker and can often be outsiders to the world, which issomething else I related to and still very much do.
It was the loneliness or isolation that led me to writingand why I connected so much with these fictional characters on TV and in books.And it is why I write about my own criminal world, filled with characters thatshare some of the values of say a Hannibal Lecter, Gregory House or a VicMackey, to share but a few. I'd like to think that I not only write forenthusiasts of crime novels but to reach those people who were in the sameposition I was in, but who may not have something that has saved them ortouched them, like writing has for me.

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Dreams

My biggest fear is not fulfilling my potential. It sounds a little silly because how do we know what our true potential is. I guess to be more specific, I want to live everyday where at the end of each one, I look back and think, yes, I made that day count.


Unfortunately those days are few and far between, as I'm sure it is for most people. It's so easy to get caught up in life, and lose our focus and drive for what we really wanted to set out to achieve in the first place. I have had that experience where so many times, you look back and think wow, if I still kept that up - whatever it might have been - how good would I be or where would I be now!


One of my top outcomes is to become a successful published author. I keep thinking about being stuck in a job I hate and this drives me to pursue my goal. I keep trying to block my mind from the realities of being an author, which is that it's very tough to get published and be successful. I instead try and focus on just getting better, keep writing stories that move and inspire me, continue to read as much as I can and learn from the best. There's a saying: Whoever you surround yourself with you become, and since I don't really know any writers personally I try and keep up to date on my favourite author interviews, release dates and anything else I learn from them that keeps my focus on writing at its peak.


People become good at something because they immerse themselves in it. It's not all luck or purely talent, of course you need both of these things but without that work ethic, then what can possibly blossom from that? And why isn't work ethic there for a lot of people in their chosen dream that their pursuing? There isn't a strong enough WHY. Usually the conversation in their head is "I'd like to achieve that... That would be nice if I was able to get that someday."


If you're one of those people who feel like: "wow, I do that," then look at why you're doing what you're doing. Do you have a compelling vision, are you modelling someone who has already achieved and taking on board their strategies and beliefs. Even though it may sound like I do this stuff, with the way I'm blurting this stuff out, I don't always, not consistently and perhaps me writing this here is about helping myself as well as you. 


I just wanted to touch on a few distinctions that I've learnt - mostly from Tony Robbins (A strategist) - and share in the hope, it triggers something new in me as well as you. "We're drowning in information and starving for wisdom." - Tony Robbins. This is so true, how much information is out there that really benefits us... Hmm, I'll let you do the maths on that one.


Feel free to post comments on your mission, pursuit of dreams / outcomes in your life. Would love to read about your journey too.


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