After the band was finished Vanessa had to go and so did I. Drug-need was already gnawing at the inside of me. We swapped numbers and I left. As I made my way back from Brixton to Hackney I started to feel this new excitement about my life slowly deflating from me. The streets around Murder Mile seemed as small and as cold and as lonely as ever. I slid my key into the lock and swung the metal door open, escaping from the frosty air. I walked through the concrete walkway and up the staircase leading to the flat. When I opened the door I saw her there, nodded out on the only chair in the place, in front of a nature documentary showing animals thousands of feet underwater moving silently, and the smell of her hit me: the smell of rot, the smell of the cigarette that had burned down to her fingers and no doubt left a scorch ring on the flesh permeated everything. The flat was suddenly smaller than before. I flicked the light on, but it did not shake her out of her nod. I walked past her and into the bathroom.
What do You think about Down And Out On Murder Mile?
