Ali Elyas Shahali
Stories (5/0)
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 5
READ PART 1, 2, 3 & 4 BEFORE THIS... I could barely focus on anything. My mind was very occupied, what if something bad has happened to her. Why would they switch off her phone? plus the dads tone was distressing. I couldn't hustle that night, instead spent some time walking around the same streets with one of my friends. He was trying his best to motivate me and keep my mood lifted. We got to an off license and bought a 1 liter bottle of Vodka with a mixer. We drank as we talked about our troubles and life in general. That helped a lot, having someone there to take my mind away, it would have been harder if I had to go through that alone. I managed to find some peace but then suddenly my phone went off. It was an alarm that I had set to get in touch with her, to check if she was okay. I tried her phone one more time but the same result. The line was disconnected. I told my boy that I was going to go check up on her. "Fam fuck that just stay here man, you don't need to check up on her she is alright" he said. I had to go...something may have been up with her. I did not want that on my conscience for sure. Even though I knew I was not in the wrong to break up with her, I just had to go. So me thinking this was some type of happy ending shit got on the last train and made my way to hers. Even if I got a simple word from her family members that she was fine then I would have been able to find some peace. I kept trying her phone throughout the journey, hoping it would turn on and that I could make my way back home. The same result, the line was disconnected. When I did arrive on her road I thought twice about ringing the buzzer. I mean I doubt her family would want to see me let alone me turning up at their place near midnight. I just had to find out what had happened to her. So I rang the buzzer and a few moments later the mother answered. "Hello, can you tell me if she is ok?" I asked hesitantly. She started shouting and telling me to go away. She said that I had made her ill and that I was no good. I started walking away from the flat but then suddenly the father ran out. He approached me violently and punched me. I didn't feel anything. I just spat out some blood and continued to ask where she was. I mean the father was in his late 50s striking him may have caused serious injuries. I was too drunk anyway, I felt nothing. Her brother came out with a biker helmet along with her body builder cousin. They all told me to fuck off, and not to show my face here again. "Ok...ok...just tell me she is ok!" I shouted. We all walked to the top of her road as her father requested I get on my knees. I think he was upset about his daughter having got on her knees for a man. He could see I was not going to budge and so the cousin rang the police. They said that I was intimidating them. Can you believe that? An ex army/prison officer, a massive body builder and her brother with a biker helmet against me. Apparently I looked like a threat to them? that didn't even make sense. "Fuck it...call the police then, they can't do anything anyway!" I yelled. I was lost in a whirlwind of emotions. Anger and pain, tears rolling down my eyes. Why wouldn't they just tell me she was ok? Why were they behaving like that? It did not make sense to me. Eventually the police came and I tried to come across ethical. I explained how I had come to check up on my girlfriend after a break up. I never told them that the father had struck me, I wouldn't have anyway. Not only did I not want him to lose his job, I had held harder punches in the past, it was nothing. "Your lips are a bit red" the police man pointed out. I explained that I had fell and that I was fine. Her family left with the younger officer as I continued to speak to the senior one. "Look mate, to be honest I watched a romantic film and drank a lot. I thought I would come here and sort things out with my girlfriend. I know the timing was bad but I was not thinking rationally" I explained confidently. The officer seemed to get it. He said he understood and that he had a son himself. We spoke about some random things, football and his dedication to the 'force'. When the younger officer approached he looked very uncomfortable. "Can you just put out the fag please mate" he said confusedly. I put out the cigarette and waited for him to speak again. He explained how a statement had been written against me and that I was under arrest. Apparently for abusing and physically laying hands on my girlfriend. "What the fuck?!? What are you on about" I asked. The officer explained how it was just an accusation and that the statement had no evidence. He was really kind to me throughout the journey. He joked a lot with me and was pretty much on my side. We spoke about Manchester United and how the team had degraded over the years. We both were very disappointed with the current management of the team. When I got to the station they placed me in an extremely cold cell. I was literally going crazy, I did not know what was happening. I kept ringing the bell asking them to let me out, I was finding it hard to breathe. I felt like my heart was about to explode. I tried to sleep on the mattress but there was no use. So many thoughts were going round in my head, who had written a statement against me? Maybe it was the father worried that I would tell them about him punching me. Maybe this was their way of evening out the consequences. After what felt like one of the worse nights in my life my cell door was swung open. I was guided to the interview room where I met up with a female police officer in charge of family issues and domestic abuse. She spoke to me briefly about the rules of the interview and that it was not a formal one. "You don't need a solicitor, but if you want one then you will have to wait for a while" she explained. I did not want a solicitor and so I asked who had written the statement. She explained that it was my girlfriend. What the fuck? So she was in the house? Why didn't she come out? I was in a state of shock. That news had upset me more than anything. Here was me running around the city to make sure she was ok. Not only did she not come out of the house to tell me she was feeling fine, she had written a statement against me. She had said that I would abuse her sometimes in the middle of the night after having dreams. Also that I had pushed her on a table and various other nonsense. Most of which were either over exaggerated or made up. I understood that she was only trying to protect her father. What an idiot, I wouldn't have told them that he had hit me. I was so heart broken. After everything I had done for her she couldn't even come outside for a second or show her face. Instead got me placed back in a cage like a dog. She knew how much I had tried to improve my life and for her to place me back in that environment. So anyway time went by, I explained all I could in the interview. The officer looked bored as if she wanted me to finish already. I used the interview to defend myself, the accusations were serious ones. Also I guess it was therapeutic. They released me a few hours later on bail. They said for me not to contact her, go to her work place or visit her family home for at least 28 days. All of her things were in my house. The officer said she will find a few of her friends to come and collect everything. It was a very difficult time for me. How could I get over a breakup with all of her things at mine. I didn't sleep, eat or move much for nearly two weeks. My family were so worried about me, I was not myself. I lost a significant amount of weight. I wrote in one of her journals to contact me, I needed to know why she had written that statement against me. I tried to code the letter in a way the police wouldn't understand, using words only me and her knew the meaning. When her distant family members came with 2 police officers to collect her things, I placed the book amongst it all. I waited for her to get in touch, to explain...but she didn't. I secretly even went to her work place, but she was not there. Just before the end of the 28 days I got a call from the station saying that the charges were all dropped. That the 'victim', my girlfriend in this case, had retrieved the statement. "She is in a very bad place, I think its best you 2 to avoid each other completely. You are toxic as it appears...do not contact her!" she explained. Fuck that! I needed some answers and closure. So I found one of her old email addresses from work and wrote her an email. It was a pretty long one requesting answers. That surely she did not love me to do that. I just wanted to release myself in order to get over it. She did not reply for a few days. It was exhausting not knowing anything. My mental health deteriorated...until finally she wrote back...
By Ali Elyas Shahali3 years ago in Humans
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 4
READ PART 1, 2 & 3 BEFORE THIS... My girlfriend was doing my head in. Constantly accusing me of getting up to no good. She knew I was doing something dodgy and she had turned into inspector gadget. Keeping a track of all my affairs and nagging anytime I went out. I wish she had just left me alone then, a lot of our arguments were really pointless. I had love for her, she played a massive role in my life. I had turned 24 and needed to try and settle down. Fall into a relationship which had a different outcome, less cheating and more commitment. I was mature enough to compromise sexual urges. Besides, times had changed and most of the girls my age were either after luxuries or stability. Something I did not possess and even if I was to cheat I would have had to do a lot of talking and 'getting to know' them. With both of us checking each others phones constantly, cheating would have not been possible, not that I would have anyway. The girls that were tempting would normally be the ones who went to the bars or clubs. When you've had a few drinks down you and your sexually turned on everything becomes perceptive rather than materialistic. It's less about the other persons situation and more about the emotions at that moment. I came close a fair few times but I tried to avoid it as much as possible. My girlfriend would call me frequently anyway, so it would have been hard. Nonetheless, I needed to make enough to focus on my studies. So here I was in a casino in central London. A casino where I had become a regular and most of the staff knew me by my last name. Not so much credible, more embarrassing to be honest. I spent the night playing Blackjack and Roulette. Drinks being handed to me by the casino managers for my 'loyalty', or should I say for me to gamble drunk. It was easier for them to take my money that way. They would then blame the alcohol for the massive loss that I had incurred. I found myself up a couple grand and started betting heavily. I had been in there for over 3 hours and my back was starting to hurt, as it would if you are seated in a stationary position for long periods. I just wanted to make the money and get out. I took a lot of risks and would 'hit' the cards most wouldn't. It was working out for me and I was making a residual income. Unfortunately those places are not designed for residual incomes, things were bound to take a turn for the worse. So when I placed a large bet down and took a nasty loss, my frustration and anger arose, thanks to the alcohol. Not to mention the way in which the dealer magically ended up with 21 when I had a solid 20 on the table. What a fucking joke. This left me in a state of mindless gambling. Putting down a significant amount a time, hoping for unrealistic income. The casino saw this as a window of opportunity, they had waited for this the entire night. Here was their chance to drain me financially. They had caught me in the spider web, and the complimentary drinks were supplying the venom. It did not take long for me to find my pile of chips very low. I had moved from the tables upstairs to the low stake ones downstairs. Here you would catch individuals getting overly excited winning small amounts. Maybe in reality they were the sensible gamblers. Regardless I found them extremely annoying given that I had lost a lot, and seeing them encourage me when I won a small pile. In the end I left that place with absolutely nothing in my pocket. I would then take a long familiar walk down to the bus stop. Wait patiently for my bus to arrive and hop on. Walk to the back and try to fall asleep. The last stop would have been home. I can't count how many times I had made that trip. It really was the walk of shame. University was set to start in a week and I didn't even have enough for travel. How was I suppose to get to campus or my lectures. I know it was my fault, I should have left something behind, but it was not possible given my level of intoxication. Besides, the next morning I would wake up in a state of shock. I barely remembered how I had lost everything. It would all be a blur. My inquisitive girlfriend and mother would be asking questions soon. I needed to make it back as soon as possible.
By Ali Elyas Shahali3 years ago in Criminal
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 3
READ PART 1 & 2 BEFORE THIS... I must have underestimated the impact of the criminal record. I thought due to the sales experience I had just picked up opportunities would come by easily. That was not the case unfortunately. I attended several interviews, non commission based roles most of which found the 1 criminal record under my name a high risk. They would inform me a week later that I didn't get the job, that they had found "more suited employees with relevant work experience". I didn't want to go back to commission work. I needed some stability and relaxation in my life. That job was taking up most of my energy, I wanted a guaranteed income weekly instead of unpredictability. In sales you couldn't afford having a bad day, so when I would get into an argument with my mum or a girl I was seeing at the time, my performance would degrade. Meaning I made less when I wasn't positive or had to deal with shit in life. Instead, I found myself unemployed chilling with one of my closest friends doing pretty much nothing. We would drive around the area listening to music and get high. Linking up with the boys in the night and getting back home in the early hours of the morning. Yes...it was fun at times but I needed to get my life back on track. He would be selling some weed on the side and worked full time. I was out of work recording songs with a budget studio at my mothers house. Dreaming about mansions, luxuries and girls, wondering if I would make it one day. Just dreaming, not really heading towards it. Maybe I should have saved some of the money I had made from sales. I had spent nearly all of it on weed, food and gambling. A bad habit I had carried with me from childhood. Risking my income with the hopes of doubling my money. That rarely was the case, more times I would lose to greed. Wanting to win unrealistic amounts and not understanding the psychology behind it. The house always wins no matter what. I rarely prayed or looked to god for answers. Something I use to do in prison. I found myself at a very low point in life again and if it wasn't for my close friends, girls and boys, I would have completely gone off the rails. They supported me a lot mentally. The assistant owner of the company invited me to her house again. She was staying in Canary Wharf and her fiancé was at work. I told myself nothing sexual this time I didn't want that on my conscience. Besides, I needed her more for finding employment than anything else. We ate the food she ordered and spoke about finding me a job. She said I was always welcome to go back to the sales role, but I had other plans. A few months passed and my mental state was degrading. I was in my room one day listening to an instrumental and trying to write a song. All of a sudden I heard a deep voice in my head. I couldn't make out the words but it was scary as fuck. Was I going crazy? What the fuck was that? I felt really scared and my heart was beating incredibly fast. I could barely breathe. I left the room and told my mum I wasn't feeling well. "Did you smoke weed again? That is going to give you a heart attack!" she shouted. That made things much worse and I begged her to call an ambulance. It wasn't the weed, I had smoked that shit for over a decade. This was something else. "Please mum call the ambulance I don't feel well...hurry please" I screamed. She looked really worried but told me to calm down. She got me a glass of water with sugar cubes. "Drink this your blood pressure has fallen" she said as she passed me the glass. I was starting to fade out it was very unusual. I tried drinking the water but it wasn't helping. Fucking hell I am going to die! I couldn't stand or sit properly. I felt really dizzy and my chest was hurting. I could feel my heart beating really fast. When the ambulance arrived they ran an ECG of my heart. A device with wires and stickers they use to scan your heart beat. The guy looked scared and told me that we had to go into hospital. "Your heart is beating incredibly fast but the rhythm seems normal. We have to go in for further checks" he said somewhat confused. I am going to die, I know it. This guy don't even know anything! Just hurry...please. On the way to the hospital on the ambulance I felt even worse. I was struggling to take in any air. He asked my worried mother if we had any history of heart disease in the family. "No...no one has had any heart attacks or any issues before" she replied nervously. I had my phone in my pocket and it was ringing, I could feel it vibrating. Fuck whoever it was...I didn't want to answer. When we arrived to the hospital the nurse saw me straight away. She measured my heart beat and circled a red box on her sheet. That made me panic even more. Was I really going to die? Please god not yet I ain't even lived. I kept praying in my head and asking him to keep me alive. At that moment I felt like that was it.
By Ali Elyas Shahali4 years ago in Criminal
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 2
READ PART 1 BEFORE THIS... The day had arrived and I was to meet my mother and sister on a visit. I saw them seated as I walked across the room to give them a hug. It was sad to see them there. It would have been nice to spend some quality family time outside, something my mother always wanted. I took my seat and opened a pack of KitKat and started eating. They both looked confused waiting for me to break the news to them. "I need to stay here another 2 months" I said calmly. "What?!?" my mother replied hysterically. This was not something she wanted to hear. "What the fuck did you do Ali?" my sister asked. I was trying to avoid eye contact. I was extremely ashamed to be in there. This was not what my mother ever expected when she moved us to the UK. It was hard trying to rationalise everything. "I spoke to my solicitor he said I would get 1 year or 2 years maximum. In this country you only do half of the sentence. I'm hoping I will get 1 year and be out in 3 months" I explained. My mother had now turned away and was facing another table. She looked really down, it was hard to see. "I stood by the door and my friends robbed somewhere, someone got stabbed, we are just waiting for them to find out who done it" I continued. My sister hugged her from the side to comfort her. "I always told you your friends were bad, now look...you got yourself in here" she said. I didn't want to hear that at that time. I knew my mistakes already. I just wanted to learn how to be a man end of the day, that's why I moved out to begin with. I had to teach myself the hardest lessons in life. The visit ended and we said our goodbyes. I returned to my cell and watched some TV. Gym wasn't being provided for us yet. The guards explained that the rota would begin once we got on our permanent wings. The next week or so flew by with not much happening. The boy from my area moved to another wing, I remained for an extra day and was assigned a wing called Raven. This was where I would have had to spend the remainder of my time at Feltham. This wing was slightly cleaner than the other one. When we walked in we were approached by a group of boys who asked us some questions. They wanted to get to know us better. They were cleaners or worked on servery. I was placed in a cell with a boy from Peckham, South London on my right. He was trouble, constantly getting into fights. His TV would be removed all the time and he spent a lot of time on Basic. There are 3 levels in prison: Basic, Standard and Enhanced. Depending on your behaviour you are placed in these groups. Basic is when you get your TV removed and are under strict supervision. You are let out your cell much less and at intervals when others are not present. Standard is what everyone is on when they first enter. Enhanced is mainly for the workers and the well behaved individuals. They are even allowed a PlayStation 2 with games & DVDs, of course these items need to be sent in from the outside. Me and this boy would talk the entire day, he was an entertaining character. He felt like everyone was against him and would be getting into fist fights every other day. The guards knew what kind of person he was, they would escort him in and out the cell. "Why you always fighting" I would ask him. "I got bare pagans in here bro, these man are haters" he would say. Yes he did have some enemies, but I think he just got a thrill from fighting. The fights would rarely last more than 10 seconds, the guards would get involved rapidly. We built a close relationship me and this guy, we would joke until the early hours of the morning. A few of my other friends from the outside entered that wing, I was well occupied. I knew a lot of people and was eating good food. Gym also started and the two sessions a week were doing us justice. I got close to a boy from Barking in his early 20s. He had a double cell. His cellmate had left and there was a space free. I decided to move in with him. We would play cards, smoke tobacco and joke until the early hours of the morning. This really passed the time. He was super addicted to nicotine. I would catch him waking up to spark one up. What a fucking weirdo I would think. After about a month of being locked up together, his behaviour would irritate me. He would take too long on the toilet. Smoke way too much and watch boring programs about antics and auctions. We had a fight one day in the cell. I wrestled him to the ground and punched him a few times. After the fight we both went to bed without saying a word to each other. It was very tense for a few days, I didn't like the atmosphere. The guards opened his cell and he moved to another wing, a request he had put in before I even came there. One of his friends was in the prison and he went to double up with him. I had a whole double cell to myself. A couple of the boys wanted to bang up with me. One day the cell door opened randomly. "You have a visitor" said one of the guards. It was one of my co-defendants. What a thrill to see him there. I had no idea he was sorting out his move to my wing. Time would fly by now, I thought to myself. We found new ways to entertain ourselves. The 2 months passed quickly.
By Ali Elyas Shahali4 years ago in Criminal
Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 1
I started smoking cannabis from a young age. I remember the first time like it was yesterday. On an empty train with my friend heading back home. We both stood at the end of the carriage, heads out of the sliding windows, puffing the smoke. We coughed many times, our virgin lungs did not recognise what we were inhaling. It was becoming very popular amongst teens and most of my friends had already tried it. I didn't know it would lead to a long term addiction. We laughed for hours and ended the night throwing up, but what an experience it was. I was a 14 year old teenager with an over protective mother. A single over protective mother. I could hear her words in my head "cannabis will kill you and you will end up brainless". Wise words from an immigrant mother of two. She only brought us to the UK for a better life. Back home in Iran this place is some sort of magical island. Everyone thinks the Queen is walking around the city shaking hands. How deluded are they. In reality things are very different. This place has it's own share of struggles. Almost 70 million people cramped into a small area of land, but a land of opportunity nonetheless. Humans are valued over here. We have rights, and promised an equal chance to make something out of ourselves. In Iran you are just a number. Forced into behaving Islamic, even if you are not enlightened by Islam. From my understanding, the leaders just want us to follow the right path. A path which would lead us to heaven, as they keep preaching to us. A theological regime with the aims of controlling the people in order for them to benefit. The true definition of eternal freedom, god consciousness. Unfortunately that system does not benefit everyone. People end up hating Islam instead, as they feel like they can't think and act for themselves. They feel forced to do certain things in order to come across religious. The females all have to wear headscarf, not something they practice properly. Most times the headscarf is just about covering their hair. The men have to behave morally correct in order to represent the core principles of the clerics. Live as the prophets of Islam may have lived. I took a deep hit of the cannabis joint waiting for death to come for me. "Cannabis will kill you" still ringing in my ears. I felt a pounding sensation in my chest. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. I saw my reflection in the window of a car, I looked pale. Maybe she is right. Maybe I am going to die.
By Ali Elyas Shahali4 years ago in Criminal