It was a cold winters day and me and my gang were at the den drawing straws to see which poor guy was going in next.  If I had any idea what was going to happen later on that day I would of that the gang a long time ago.

This was a ritual between two gangs it was kind of like the “Russian Roulette” the torture game.  Two people were choose, one from each gang and were sent down into a damp, dark smelly, rat invested basement.  They were given a gun and a number of cartridges.  The gun was loaded and the barrel was spun.  One guy held the gun and loaded it; he then held it up to his head and pulled the trigger.  God have pity on the guy that has the cartridge loaded as he ends up with a massive hole in his head.  I’ve never been in that position but I’ve heard and seen the guys that have came out of that dreaded basement.

I was about 15 at the time and I was brain washed by my so-called gang.  At the time my gang could do no wrong, it was my life, my crew and my family.  At first we just hung about at each other’s house and went to the cinema each weekend, but then there was drink, drugs and they started stealing cars.  I tried to get out of it but they kept persuading me to stay.

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There were two main gangs in my estate; my gang “The Diddymen” and our rival gang “The Loughries Loffies.”  For ages we’d been rivals, been in fights and destroyed each other’s dens.

I picked the shortest straw from our gang and from our rivals a kid called Dave got the short straw.  The next thing I new we were both down in the den staring at the gun.  

I was acting brave, saying that the gun was tiny when really I had a huge lump the size of a golf ball in my throat.  My palms ...

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