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serpentbanshee.shop
Winter in Birmingham. Frosted patterns on the windows, hot chocolate in a café by the canal. But that winter destroyed me. My name is Samuel Mbaye. In January, my father died. Stroke. In February, my bookshop in Digbeth — a tiny second-hand bookshop I'd spent five years building — burned to the ground. The insurance covered a measly 40%. By March, I had lost my father, my business, I was drowning in debt, and my mother no longer got out of bed. My girlfriend of three years packed her things and left me for someone else. Just like that — an empty wardrobe, a note on the table, and silence. A rented flat in Handsworth that I could no longer afford. Universal Credit barely covered the rent. I was skipping meals. I lost 12 kilos. One night, I just wanted to escape. Disappear. I opened my phone and stumbled across a discussion about some app linked to a Netflix series everyone was watching. "Great for switching off," people said. It was exactly what I needed. I downloaded it. Just to run away. There was £28 in my account. Day 1. I put in £5. I just pressed the buttons. Nothing. I wasn't even upset — I hadn't come for the money. I'd come to forget. Day 3. I came back. Another £5. A couple of small wins — £3, £7. Nothing special. But do you know what? For those 20 minutes I spent on the app, I didn't think about my father. I didn't think about the debts. I didn't think about my mother who couldn't get out of bed. I didn't think about her. I just pressed and watched the screen. Day 7. I had £12 left. I put in £5. Small wins again. But I noticed something strange — I had started looking forward to those evenings. Those 20 minutes when I could just switch off from everything. Day 12. I put in another £5. Only £2 left in my account. That evening, I hit my first proper multiplier — x12. Won £60. I didn't withdraw it. Decided to leave it. Like a little cushion. Day 15. I played with that £60. Up and down. The balance jumped about: £40, then £80, then £30, then £110. The
