Part Three:

The Final Showdown. The final installment in the story of Fiona Russell Powell's rehab experience. Ascension house turns the tables on Fiona and the outcome is inevitable.

WEEK TWELVE Three months down, three more to go. Done half of my bird already. I have completed the programme itself twice now. The second half is geared towards re-education, learning work skills and re-integrating the client into society. I'd like to study a new subject just for interest or do some voluntary work: none of this has been discussed with me yet, however, which is unusual, as most clients would be about to Start a work programme at this point.
On Monday I approached Nick about changing Billy as my key-worker, but he wouldn't hear of it. He expects me to continue with the man who has consistently abused me, a man about whom I have made serious allegations to the Inspection Unit, a man who is totally unprofessional and crap at his job. When I pointed all this out, both Nick and Billy said they would wait for the results of the Inspectors' report before they change anything. Talk about closing ranks. Nick said I "must stay with Billy as he's part of the programme, and if you don't stick with the programme, you'll have to leave." I think he is both maintaining a position regardless of a client's best interests because he's determined not to let me win, and hoping that my position here will become untenable, or so unbearable that I'll leave of my own accord. He'll learn that I'm a tough nut to crack.
After contacting the Inspection Unit to let them know of this latest development, I took their advice and put all of my objections in writing to the manager, but received no response.
On Tuesday Nick was castigated by the director of Druglink who had been informed by the Inspectors about his casual employment of Tom Bell to do cheap DIY and repairs at his house, Silly Sally's house, even hiring him out to friends. Of course, this is completely unethical and illegal because the DSS pay for us to stay here. It is also unfair on all the other clients who would like to earn some pocket money, as we only receive a paltry 13 quid a week. It might explain why Tom is treated differently, but it causes a lot of resentment. Of course Nick knows who the Inspector's source is.
Wednesday: wrote to the manager requesting, for the umpteenth time, that some workable no-smoking policy be introduced. All of the residents had come to an agreement on Monday, apart from Tom who was at work but, upon returning and learning of our unanimous decision, he ran to Nick to moan and it was scrapped - in favour of his one against, rather than we six for. A letter was my response to that unfair and nonsensical over-ruling. Again, no reply.
Thursday: Baby Goth takes me aside in the garden to complain about Billy touching HIM. Could hardly believe my ears. Baby Goth says he's complained about it twice before over the past two weeks to his key-worker. BG arrived the day after Silly knew I'd gone to the Inspection Unit and stopped touching me. Is it credible that Billy would merely switch his unwanted attentions in this way?

Nothing would surprise me: he and Nick are either very stupid or very arrogant and smug the way they have handled things since the Inspectors came. However, I am particularly concerned for BG as he isn’t really capable of defending himself. I report this to the Inspectors, they recommend I contact the police. Friday morning: hand-delivered a long letter to the Director of Druglink, again on the advice of the Inspectors, detailing all of Nick's poor management skills, questionable and unethical behaviour. Had a brief chat (I was in a state) and she assured me she would look into it immediately. Hope she does though, l am sceptical, given the stories of corruption told by the previous manager. Friday afternoon: Nick handed me a Final Written Warning for breaking the rules, (I was late back from the phonebox last weekend and forgot to mention the second time I went over to Sainsbury's one evening, therefore I received two restrictions). He also gave me another copy of the rules, saying if I don't follow them to the letter, I'm out. I said "fair enough, but this has to apply to everyone, including Tom." Nick said: "this is about you, not him". Saturday: what happened today was inevitable. Something had to give, and it turned out to be me. Woke feeling very aggrieved over the unequal punishments and applications of the rules, so I ran round the house this afternoon, pointing out all the rules that were being broken by the others mainly Tom, of course. I was being petty but making a point. Silly Sally, who was on duty, had no option but to ensure that the rules were followed, which grated with her as, basically, I was telling her what to do and she had no redress as I was within my rights, hoisted by their own petard, strictly speaking. In the evening, Tom came in the lounge and threatened to "punch my lights out", "knock my block off" and "break my legs". I didn't think he would dare touch me, though, because he's up on a GBH charge next week and stands to go down for a long stretch as well as having his favourite kid taken into care. Stupidly, I reminded him about the photo I have of him drinking which sent him into orbit and I ran out of the room, fearing for my safety. Anyhow, the upshot of it all was that I ended up very upset and scared but knew from past experience that Tom would be allowed to get away with it, so I rang the police from the phonebox at the station. When I got back. Silly had called Billy in and the two of them decided that I had to leave, even though Tom had admitted to threatening me. (They don't believe I have a photo of Tom in a pub). How transparent can you get? So before the police had a chance to get there, they drove me back to my flat at midnight. Now I'm away from that dreadful place. I realise they did me a big favour, albeit unwittingly. The men were right: I was Crazy to put up with all that shit for so long, but I am very stubborn, sometimes to my own detriment. However, the good news is that I have since applied that grim determination to staying drug-free. My motto is: nil carburundum illegitimus, and though it's a toss-up between the staff of Ascension House and heroin, I would still say that the latter is the biggest bastard of them all.