Piece of me

Pain. Chapter 4

Amongst the beauty of this place lay the tragedy that was my existence. How could somewhere so captivating hold so much melancholy? Life was so very cruel sometimes.

People say that what you send out in to the universe will come back to you. Some bullshirt about good vibes, being positive, blahdy blahdy blah. I'd been positive. I was kind & honest. I worked tirelessly & held my tongue whenever the universe decided to throw up all over me. So why was I staring emptiness in the face?

People talked far too much nonsense. Life just kicks some of us down & the only possible explanation I could agree with, was that perhaps I did wrong in a previous life. Maybe this wasn't me actually living; perhaps I was just going through a separate existence to life, where I pay for whatever wrongs I committed in the last life?

I was always a very spiritual person. I knew there was more to life than what you see in the physical reality. I also strongly believed in karma. Hell, I'd even witnessed it a few times. Which only strengthened my belief that I must be in some form of spiritual probation.

If this was true, when would my probation end? Would I get another chance at life & love? So many questions burned in my mind.

I clutched my necklace as if needing some form of guidance, or possibly protection from the unknown. Jay bought me this necklace. It hadn't left my neck in the past 3 years. Well, almost 3 years. It was a black obsidian crystal, smoothly cut in to a pointed pendant shape, clutched by a piece of silver, dangling from an 18" real silver chain. It was beautiful.

I was very in to crystal healing. We had a very popular spiritual shop here 'crystal cave'. They sold all sorts of crystals small & large, crystal balls, tarot & angel cards, runes, dragon statues & various fancy candle holders, oil burners & essential oils, even spells & potions (mostly essential oils & herb blends) for those who were in to witchcraft etc & they offered in depth card readings. It was very gothic. Mostly tourists shopped there, but locals also occasionally bought stuff too.

The woman who worked there certainly knew her stuff too. She could tell you exactly what crystal you needed without a second thought.

It was one of the few original businesses that survived the purge of the mob. I think they were frightened the owner would curse them if they wronged her. She was well known for her spiritual guidance.

Jay always knew I preferred genuinely thought out gifts over expensive & stereotypical presents.

Crystals were said to either absorb the negative energy around us, or shield us from it. Some crystals hold on to this energy until cleansed. Others were self charging. Obsidian had to be cleansed regularly to allow it to protect you. I must admit, I hadn't really charged it recently. I couldn't bear to be parted from it. I even owned a selenite crystal bowl for charging all my crystals in. The luminescence of the moon also had charging qualities. I just haven't wanted to remove it recently.

I'm 27 years old. My life, though it has been filled with hardships & loss, had also been blessed in many ways. I was so lucky to have had love & support in my life. I had always had food in my belly, a roof over my head & clothes on my back. We didn't have the latest in technological advances. Or the newest furniture. Our family home was far from a mansion. But it was ours to call home. We weren't paying excessively overpriced rents to greedy, workshy landlords, who refused to fix anything they could try to blame on the tenants. You honestly would not believe some of things my first landlord had said to me.

~~~~~~~~~ 2016 ~~~~~~~~~~

Blake Douglas wasn't the nicest man. He pretended to be. But it all came dripping with selfishness & blame shifting tactics. I was a nervous wreck in the week leading up to his inspection. It was a yearly occurance. I knew I looked after the place well enough, but it was prone to mould. This was not my doing, however it would be blamed on me; the repairs to the paintwork would come out of my deposit. I had worked extra shifts & saved for such a long time for that deposit.

I kept on top of the mould issue by spritzing it down with a mould spray & wiping it away. The damp clung to the walls however & the heating did not work well in this house, in fact it stank & made me feel drowsy. The boiler had never been serviced & I'd lived here 2 years already. I had to cope with a quick blast of warm from one of those oil radiators. Thankfully it stayed warm for a while afterwards.

Overtime though, the paintwork had begun to peel & chip away from around the windows due to the damp. I had attempted to repaint it using the cheapest neutral paint I could buy. Magnolia, what a boring & awful colour. I never did understand the need for such an awful shade. It was so flat & lifeless, whilst also giving the slight illusion of smoke damaged walls. Far be it from me to decide what is appealing though. I was just a lowly rent slave afterall.

When I first moved in, the mould in the bedroom was barely disguised by a recent paint job. The landlords shoddy attempt to pretend the place was not a slum. It was laughable. But me being on low wage & rent prices soaring, I had very few options if I wanted my independence. I didn't exactly have any experience with landlords so I had no idea what was acceptable, or what my rights were. I was desperate to not have what I felt were unjust rules imposed upon me any longer though. I was afterall an adult, paying my own way. It just seemed unfair at the time to still have a curfew & not be allowed to have people over. It never really occured to me that my parents just worried about me & wanted some peace & alone time to relax after both being at work all day.

'Knock knock knock'...........

Here I was in a deep slumber when this loud banging occured. I barely stirred at the first disturbance.

'Knock knock knock knock'

Louder came the second installment of noise. My eyes sticking with sleep tried to force themselves open. Wiping away the gunk I finally managed to stretch myself awake enough to peruse my surroundings.

'Knock knock knock - knock knock knock'. The volume had risen again. This time mimicking the pounding of the police attempting to rouse a criminal.

Quickly pulling on a Tshirt & leggings I scrambled my way down towards the intrusion. My phone began ringing. It was Blake. Here already I thought. It was barely 8.30am. He was early. Not the best start to my day.

Ignoring the call I opened the door.

"Took you long enough" began the ratty attitude of my slum-lord.

"You're early. Its my day off so I was catching up on my rest!". Definitely not impressed with his blatant disregard for tenants rights. Not that I needed to even explain my reason for being asleep to this shrew.

I gestured for him to come in. The excruciating ordeal commencing.

"Right where shall we start, from the bottom up?" He quizzed.

Nodding I led him in to the living room. He glanced around, no doubt looking for reasons to keep my deposit. This man knew all the ways to con his unfortunate group of tenants.

"The heating doesn't work properly & lets off a rancid smell" I reminded him. Drawing his attention to his failures as a landlord.

"Oh does it" he dismissively stated. God his voice was irritating. He sounded very much a villain. If rodents could talk this is exactly how they would sound I imagined to myself.

"Yes" Rather aggressively returning him to the subject he so easily skipped over.

"Right, lets see the kitchen then" Ever the pro at leading the conversation back towards reasons he could rob me. He headed in to my unimpressive kitchen. It could barely fit the both of us in it. I was fortunate that it came with a fridge, cooker & washing machine. Not in the best condition, granted, I had no way of procuring my own at this point though.

I gestured to the boiler attempting to jog his memory "This hasn't been serviced".

"You must have missed the boiler man" he accused.

"Nope, I was in all day that day" Besides which boilers were meant to be serviced yearly. He'd not bothered to get this rearranged after the first implied appointment.

"Mmm" was all he managed to come back with.

I sighed heavily feeling not only inconsequential, but also defeated by his disparaging attitude. Without another word he headed back towards the stairs. I quietly followed behind him dreading every futher minute this man would impose upon me.

We approached the bathroom first. Also a meagre hole in this house. You could see where the paint had chipped & been pushed in to the fresh coat. The textured magnolia wall stood out a mile.

"You've not been opening your windows to air the house out. I'll have to repaint that when you leave. It'll cost me a bit, that's not cheap bathroom paint. It'll be taken off your deposit". The very nerve of this man made my blood pressure rise. Not only was he wilfully blind to the fact the window was infact open at this very minute; to continue to blame me for his absolutely atrocious walls & lack of a working heating system. How could you even argue with such a brazenly fiendish personality?

"As mentioned before the heating doesn't work right. The window is, as you see open!" I snapped. I was infuriated at this point. "I keep on top of the mould with mould spray & repainted to keep the colour fresh."

"Do you". I was completely frazzled by this man's shenanigans.

He stepped around me & headed towards the bedroom.

It wasn't massive. It was just big enough to fit a small double bed, 2 door wardrobe & small chest of drawers. All second hand, overused tat. I was surprised the wardrobe was still standing to be honest. It was rather rickety. I made the mistake of accepting a furnished house. I had no means to furnish it myself...

Little did I know when I signed the lease, mr Douglas would punish me for his already in a state of disrepair tat, worsening from general wear & tear. I'd never see that deposit again.

The bed itself was very old. A worn wooden frame, with a tired wire spring base. It squeaked whenever you moved. I wasn't aware these kinds of beds still existed, until I moved here that is. The mattress was cheap, but at least fairly new. Coil sprung. It was adequate. Nothing special.

Blake walked towards the far wall of the room, clearly taking a mental note of everything he could charge me for.

In my head I pictured him greedily rubbing his hands together, his weasel like face grinning wildly at the lucrative thievery that was renting out decrepit properties, for far more than they were really worth; to the already impoverished folks. All while whinging "nobody ever thinks about the landlord" as he meticulously searched for errors to kick up a stink about.

I maintained my composure as best I could under such frustrating circumstances. While secretly anticipating his next remark.

"I told you to keep a good air flow. Just look at that damp clinging to the wall". Right above my bed was a wet patch of wall. Though I did air out the room, the mere act of respiration caused my hot breath to hit the cool air of the unheated bedroom. Resulting in the condensation gathering above my bed as I slept. I wondered what his next interjection would be.

"If you can't look after my house I shall have to serve you an eviction notice". There it was, the biggest slap in the face. Fear. Frightening people was a great method of controlling them. All the great oppressors used this tactic to gain the upper hand. Anxiety ridden people were easily manipulated in to submission.

"I am losing money on this rental as it is. I can't have you damaging my house on top of that. Nobody ever thinks about the poor landlord". He predictably declared.

"I am looking after the house Blake. The windows are only closed at night to keep the draught out in the lowest temperatures. I can't warm the house until the problem with the radiators is fixed". I tried to save myself from this loathsome scum of the earth's victorious penny pinching. "I keep it clean & well aired. I regurlary sort the damp & mould issues".

"You need to keep on top of these things & keep the house in a good state". It was as if he'd never even registered a single word I had spoken to him.

"Yes mr Douglas". Subdued by this man's overbearing personality. I might as well have dropped to my knees & begged for forgiveness for daring to live in his home.

We headed back downstairs & that was when he noticed my clothes airer. It was in the corner, not in use.

"No wonder you have mould issues air drying your clothes in the house".

"I use it outside. On dry days it goes out first thing in the morning & comes back in last thing at night, once dry". I corrected him.

"Hmm". Then he sauntered off towards the back door. He'd forgotton the yard. Modest in size, it did offer enough space to at least put my clothes outside safely.

"This rubbish needs moving" he motioned towards some broken items I'd had to move outside. A plastic washing basket, storage box, an old wooden chair snapped at the leg & a single bin bag. It wasn't bin day for another week & I was hard pressed to get such items to the tip having no means of transport.

"I will get them moved. I just need someone to help as I don't drive. The bins don't go till next week." Quickly trying to save myself from further feeling minuscule compared to this intimidating wage robber.

"Make sure you do. Its a fire hazard". Absolute tosh of course. It was unlikely I'd pass through the most probable source of a fire, running through the kitchen ablaze to get to the back door, which was blocked in by an incredibly tall mucky stone wall.

With that reprimand out of the way he pulled out the new lease.

"I've had to increase your rent because I'm just not making any money on this house. Of course you could always find somewhere else if this doesn't suit you" he knew I was stuck for somewhere else to go & inexperienced enough to be pressured.

I read through the new lease. As much as I could get through whilst he was prompting me to sign.

"An extra £50?" I questioned

"Well, I've got a mortgage to pay & repairs have to be factored in. Its just not worth it for me to keep it at the current rate". Was he taking the mick? Repairs? He'd never repaired a thing in this place. He always found a way to welch on the repairs.

"I see" was all I could manage without laughing in his face. The mere thought of him actually upholding his landlord duties was priceless. Without properly reading through the small print I signed both copies knowing I needed somewhere to live. I couldn't lose face & end up back home as a failure to independence. Living under the strict rules & lack of privacy again just wouldn't do.

"Right, that's everything. I'll see you next inspection". He handed me my copy of the agreement & left before I could further argue with him about the issues he was responsible for resolving.

As peeved as I was, relief that he was gone to bother somebody else quickly settled in. I could relax, until next time at least.

I ran myself a lukewarm bath. That was the best I could hope for what with the boiler being a tad temperamental. The water pressure wasn't great either. It took forever to run the bath. & then I had to make it warm enough by pouring boiled water from the kettle in to it before I could bathe. I usually got in once there was enough water to just about wash with.

Once I was clean I ran to my bedroom & dived under my duvet. I was wringing wet but it was far too cold to hang about. I dried myself carefully trying to keep the warmth in the covers from escaping. I couldn't bear to leave my bed after this. I lay down, quilt tucked tightly around me. I stayed still until I realised how hungry I was. By this till it was after 11am. I hadn't eaten yet.

I pulled on a clean pair of fleecy pjs & my warm dressing gown, then finally crawled out of bed.

As I sat eating toast next to the oil heater I finally noticed the small print as I double checked the contract. "That dirty rotten scoundrel" I exclaimed outloud to nobody.

There, written in the fine print at the bottom of the contract was me forfeiting my right to my deposit based on failure to look after the property & provided furniture. This had been printed up in advance. He already knew he wasn't going to give me my deposit back before he even got here. What a shameless individual. I was livid. Shaking I rang my mum to tell her what had occured.

"You signed it without reading it properly" she sounded dumbfounded.

"I read through most of it, he was pressing for me to sign it". I was embarassed.

"You always read the fine print Emma. I've told you this before" she rebuked.

"I know, I wasn't expecting to be robbed mum. What can I do?" I beseeched her.

"Nothing unfortunately. You signed a contract agreeing to this. Take this as a learning curve".

"Great, thanks. No really, that's so helpful". I hung up in a huff. I was more angry with myself to be perfectly honest. If I could kick myself up the bum, at this point I would seriously try!

~~~~~~~~ Present day ~~~~~~~~

The memory was almost as embassing as the actual occurance. Why is it that our most gut-wrenching ordeals were also our most memorable? We even relive the exact emotions; as our minds drag us back to the past. Its almost a form of self torture. We have so much going on at present, much to experience or work towards in the future. Yet we regularly revisit the most harrowing encounters. It truly boggles my mind.

I walked hastily back to my car. Driving back towards the main gate I could not wait to leave this wretched place. The feeling of hostility towards my kind was smothering me. Eyes burned in to me as my cheap second hand car polluted their immaculately clean streets. Each building stomach churningly more attractive & spacious than anything the paupers part of town could offer. Every person that lowered their self proclaimed 'holier than thou' gaze to suffer my alien presence in their closed community clad in clothes that cost more than my entire months pay. Hell, even more than a few months pay.

The sychophantic, cap doffing members of the working class; & social climbers of the middle class who shared a perverse satisfaction in deferring to those they deemed to be their betters would say "You're only jealous that you can't afford those things". They were wrong. I did not want expensive clothes. I did not need material wealth. However, I longed for comfort. To not be constantly trying to make ends meet by deciding between eating or paying an unnecessarily high bill. To not exhaust myself to the point of collapse, working every hour of the day for a pittance of a wage that barely covered my expenses. This wasn't envy. This was discontentment at their greed. Constantly raising inflation whilst keeping our wages below the threshold.

I wanted to live. That was all. Not feel panic every time the post arrived. Live without the constant knowledge that if I get sick I will end up struck with a threat of legal action over bills I can no longer pay. Starving just to keep the bills paid.

It wasn't ok. The system is a disgrace & those who bowed down to it & said nothing were enablers. Much like those who ignored the toxic narcissistic abuse in a family home, just to escape being another victim to the abuse. Keeping quiet was mostly through fear of being punished for honesty. The laws existed to protect only those breaking moral laws. You could not speak your mind unless you were one of the chosen. Those who had were locked up for hate crimes. It was punishable to criticise the rich. Meanwhile they were known gansters running the show through fear & bribery.

They could say what they liked about us lowly servants. But we had to know our place. They were better than us.

It was a criminal offence to call the councillors out as the band of absolute thugs & thieves that they were. One that, should the wrong person hear you, would land you in deep plop. It was common knowledge they got their positions through shady dealings. The gates of the upper class community weren't so much to keep us out, as to keep their transactions private. Every meeting an absolute pantomime, under the guise of improving things; whereas the reality was they were practically gambling ideas of how to further impose unnecessary costs on to us, to further their wealth.

It wasn't like this everywhere. But the gangs that ran this town certainly had it made here. I desperately wanted to be able to escape living under such tyranny. It was not so easy to leave here. The ruling class had made it so.

Even more difficult was it when 'he' was from here. We lived our short life together here. I was haunted by memories of times together, both the good & the bad. How could I abandon him? I needed to be here. To feel as close to him as I could. Any connection to him I could hold on to, to feel less broken. My sweet Jay. Why did you have to leave me. I could cope with this life for you. You would've made a huge difference to this town.