Kirsty came to see me. Just the once, after I’d been convicted. She didn’t even come into the room where I was sitting. Looked at me through a window from the corridor. She was crying, dear love her. Doesn’t know how lucky she is. If she hadn’t taken a shine to me I might well have given her one of my pet names and she’d have been done for.
I’m a da now, too. Kirsty brought our daughter on the same visit. She held her up to the window for me to see. Felt as if she was saying to me, see what you missed you evil bastard. I hope wee Jenn — Kirsty named her after her mother — has a good life. That she stays safe.
They fitted me up with one of those electronic voice boxes, so I can communicate with the staff and any visitors I might get. Once Kirsty had been that one time I wasn’t expecting any one else. The staff nicknamed me the Stephen Hawking of Chester, seeing as I speak using the movements of my eyelids. I don’t sound like him, though. My voice box is more middle-class Englishman than Hawking’s American astronaut tones. I sound more like the speaking clock. Makes me seem a jolly chap. The glass half-full type and all that shit. Once I got used to it I started to have a bit of fun with the nursing staff. In fact, just as I’m telling you all this stuff, in walks nurse Samantha. She’s not that great looking but she makes up for it in other ways. Put it this way, I never would have snatched the likes of her off the street and done the business.
Some of the staff, though, haven’t taken kindly to me being here. One nurse, her name is Angela, is a cruel bitch. She’s in her thirties, I’d guess, trim body, a girl about town, gagging for it, too. She brings me breakfast. Fucking porridge. I never asked for it, but she makes sure I eat every spoonful, especially when she’s pissed in it first. Does it right in front of me. Couple of times she’s brought used condoms with her and adds the contents to my strawberry yoghurt. One day, she used my useless hand to wipe her arse. I’m at her mercy. What can I say?
‘How are we today, James?’ says nurse Samantha. There is a bit of a delay while I compose some witty reply.
‘Fine.’
‘Anything in that nappy of yours?’ She lifts my blanket and pulls my shorts down a little way. Then she prises the nappy from my leg. There’s no stench. ‘All clean for now.’ She examines my wizened penis and smiles. A conceited smile, her knowing what I used to be capable of and seeing how I am now.
She fusses about my room, checking my drinking water, taking my temperature with some jobby she sticks in my ear. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get something into my bloody voice box.
‘Hey, nurse,’ says the machine politely. ‘Show me your tits.’
Samantha, she’s about forty, heavily built with dark hair and a wide mouth, looks down her bobble of a nose at me and frowns. She’s not smiling. Me, I’m fucking pissing myself.
‘James, I’ve told you before if you abuse that voice machine I’ll switch it off.’
Another delay while I attempt a reply.
‘Sorry nurse…’ She searches for the switch on the console. ‘No please don’t. Aw, f…’
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Acknowledgements
I would like to express my sincere thanks to Jasmin Kirkbride, James Faktor and everyone at Endeavour Media for giving me the opportunity to have my novels published.
Thanks also to David Laird who kindly read and cast a critical eye over this story. All I did was supply the coffee.
Finally, I would have achieved nothing without the love and support of my family, my wife Suzie, daughter Sarah and son David. Proud of you all.
Lethal Dose; Lethal Justice; Lethal Mind Page 77