by Shelly Pratt
I know where Reginald Haylock’s office is from the day I came to interview. He’s a bit of a greaseball, but I know he runs a tight ship, which makes his own personal shortcomings easier to overlook when he’s professionally adept. You have to be in command and competent in this kind of environment or the prisoners will eat you alive. It’s like walking the beat; it can be unpredictable and downright dangerous, so it’s best to walk around with eyes in the back of your head.
The door is closed, so I rap loudly with my knuckles.
‘Come in.’ The warden’s voice is muffled through the oak. I let myself in and approach his desk. I’m eager to be out of the confines of his office and working my shift.
‘Ah, Mercy, take a seat.’ He smoothes his hair into place and peers at me with his beady little eyes. He reminds me of a guinea pig I had as a child, all belly and rodent looking. The thought amuses me. I can just see him eating his lunch, face twitching while he tucks into a piece of cheese or something. Thankfully I’m such a fucking miserable mess or I’m sure I would be smirking by now.
‘How are you today?’
‘Fine, thank you.’
‘Good, good. Let me get straight to business then, since I’m sure you’re eager to get settled into your role here at Silverwater. Let me start by saying that while your dad may have pulled a few strings to get you this position, I will by no means be lenient with you. You have a great employment record with the local police department, but of course I am aware of your leave of absence. I hope that any emotional issues will be left at home and that it will not impede your ability to function here at work.’
Fuck. Did he need to be so blunt? I’ve been here all of five minutes and already he’s dipping into the depression wagon.
‘My personal life is just that, Warden. Personal. Anything that goes on outside of these walls won’t in any way affect my ability to be a reliable staff member here at Silverwater.’
‘Good to hear. So, let’s skip on to the next reason I called you in here. Your employment is to be within the male maximum security prison. I’m pleased you’re not wearing any makeup because, to be honest, I prefer staff not to wear it.’
Clearly the lady out front didn’t get the memo. Reginald continues to ramble on, his annoying voice grating on my nerves. Now I know why I stayed out of the public for so long. My only consolation is that being here will be a welcome distraction from the incredible emptiness I feel at home.
‘… and you’re an attractive woman, Ms. Cole. It could get you into a lot of trouble in here if you’re not careful and aware of your surroundings at all times. I would suggest you make a few friends with the male guards so that you have an extra set of eyes on you throughout your shift. I’m sure we’d all feel more comfortable knowing that we don’t need to have any raised anxiety just because a female has joined our staff.’
‘I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m very professional and will not be entertaining any lewd comments, gestures or insinuations from inmates. I come from a family who are used to dealing with the shit of society, sir.’
‘Good, well see you come to me if there are any problems, do you understand? Anything at all. I wouldn’t want your father upset if anything happens to you on my watch.’
‘Your fears are misplaced, Warden. My father and I both know the risks associated with our jobs.’ And yet you still can’t get over what happened to Daniel. I squish those thoughts deep down into my gut where my apprehension is already eating away at my stomach.
‘Well then, I’m sure we’ve nothing to fear then, do we. You can head down to the custodial watch house in F Block. I’ll ring ahead and tell Clarence that you’re on your way down. He’s your day shift supervisor. You’re to report to him directly and he’ll make sure you’re kitted up with your gear.’
‘Thank you.’ I get up to leave, pleased that I won’t have to talk too much to people from now until the end of my shift. If I can just get through today, I know I’ll be okay.
I leave the warden and follow the maps on the prison walls down towards F Block. There’s a buzzer next to the door that separates the external corridors from the inside wing. I press it and look up towards the camera that’s perched overhead, taking in my every move. Without out being asked, I hold up my identification badge, my staff number clearly visible to whoever is on the other side.
I’m buzzed through two more doors before I step out into F Block – home to over two hundred of Silverwater’s inmates. The smell is overwhelming, with sweat, urine and excrement reaching my protesting nose. There is an overlying smell of hospital grade disinfectant, but when you’ve got so many men shitting and pissing in the same building with no doors on their cells, you’ve got to expect that the air is going to get pretty rank.
A uniformed guard waves me over to the custodial booth located at the end of the cells. It has triple-glazed, reinforced glass. The door’s open, so I walk right in to introduce myself.
‘Hey, I’m Mercy.’
‘Nice to meet you, Mercy, I’m Clarence, the supervisor here on F Block. We do a rotational shift – some weekends, some nights. I’m sure a couple of weeks in and you’ll get to meet all of the guards. Today there will be you and me, along with Karl and Victor. You might see the guards from the other blocks from time to time, you know, out in the yard and such, but our crew on this block will always be the same. Any questions so far?’
‘No, I’m good.’
‘Great. You can hang your jacket there on that hook, and that corner locker there is yours. Here’s your belt; locker key’s in the pocket. You’re equipped with a baton, pepper spray, cuffs, a radio and a three cell mag light. Just remember, anything a prisoner can take off you can be used against you. There are no guns inside the wire.’
‘Got it,’ I say, taking the heavy belt and strapping it to my waist.
‘Let’s take a walk, huh? Get you acquainted with your surroundings. We’ll try and ease you into our routine without too much of a kerfuffle from the inmates, but since you’re a lady, I can’t say they’re going to give you a quiet reception, ya know what I’m saying?’
Yes. Yes I do.
#6
‘Cowboy! Cowboy! Fire on the line!’
The chants coming down the row of cells is almost deafening. A bit hard to get some sleep in when my fellow inmates are bellowing out the code for a new guard on deck, and that there are correctional officers in the area.
After my little cleanup last night, I was hoping to catch fifty winks before the lunch service, but their whooping and hollering spikes my interest. We’ve never had such a commotion over a new guard before. Toilets are flushing left, right and center. Even from where I’m lying on my bunk I can see two sets of hands clinging to the front bars of each cell, men trying to get a gawk at who’s heading our way.
‘Mmm-mmm.’
‘Damn!’
‘Jesus, girl, you are—’
‘What I wouldn’t give for—’
‘Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, boy, there ain’t no way that bitch is gonna look at you!’
And on and on it goes; men slinging comments about as the two guards get closer to the end of F Block, each cellie drowning out the next. By now I’m out of my bed, just as curious as the other mongrels.
I don’t know what the fuck warden Haylock was thinking, but it appears that we’ve got a female visitor. I don’t know if she’s going to be a permanent fixture on our block, but there’s going to be a lot of peacocks about if that’s the case. I stand tight against the right-hand side of the wall, allowing me to see as far as I can down the long row of cells.
It’s Clarence’s familiar frame, walking with a woman in uniform. Brunette, about five-foot-seven-heavenly-inches of creamy, pale skin. She’s petite, yet the swell of her breasts is kind of hard to miss. They walk, slowly, talking in low voices as they walk along the cells, ignoring the comments being slung at them from the inmates.
They approach, slowing now that they are getting toward
s the end of the row. Now that she’s sparked my interest, I hope they’re not going to be a tease and turn around before they get to my cell. I feel like I deserve a look, too.
Man, she doesn’t disappoint. They come all the way leaving me standing half naked in front of the first woman I’ve seen in three years. Normally they wouldn’t have caught me with my top off in this weather, but I’d just knocked out some push-ups before I was considering taking my nap. And I got hot. But nothing compared to the heat that is suddenly swelling towards my nether regions.
I think I’d fuck a hessian sack right now, but damn, this woman would be so much better.
They come to stop in front of my cell; all of my toned abs and pecs on display for them to see. I’m a little gleeful about that. Don’t judge. It’s all I have. Clarence is lively and chatty, while the woman looks bored and disinterested. I’m willing her eyes to look at me, but so far she’s avoided taking a peek. They continue with their discussion, stopped now because there’s nowhere else to go but back to where they came from. It’s like I’m the third wheel – present but completely unwanted. Suddenly Clarence gestures to me.
‘We had an incident here just last night. Four inmates managed to get out of their cells and came and attacked one of the prisoners.’
‘They got out?’ she asks, her voice devoid of emotion. Clarence responds quietly, knowing that my ears aren’t really privy to their conversation.
‘We believe one of the night guards let them out. He’s been under suspicion for a while, but now he’s been stood down while the matter is under investigation.’
‘What about the guy in t—’ she stops suddenly. She was gesturing towards my cell when her arm just freezes mid-air, her eyes finding mine unexpectedly.
There’s a lot of damage there, her own bars put up to keep the unwanted out. But I can see through the bars, to somewhere much deeper. She may not want to let anyone in, but I just breached her exterior. I touched her, without even raising a finger. I’m not unaffected either. My pulse quickens as she licks her lips, stunned into silence.
Lord have m—
‘Mercy? You were saying?’
Damn, that’s actually her name?
‘I, ah, was just wondering about the prisoner in here. Did a death occur?’ Her eyes drop from mine down towards my chest and, unavoidably, my washboard stomach. She takes a deep breath and drags them away.
‘He’s in the infirmary right now, but I’d imagine they’ll put him in protective now. Looks like Saxon here will need a new cell mate.’
Pick her, please pick her! So not gonna happen, but a guy can dream, can’t he?
I want her to look at me again, but she replaces her surprised interest with a cold, hard veneer of indifference. They ignore me, their chat continuing as the prison still erupts around us. I watch as they head back towards the custodial station, wishing like hell this was one of those minimum security prisons where we can just walk around as we please. I’m pretty sure me and hundreds of other inmates would just follow her around like the Pied Piper all day.
Mercy? It’s pretty clear she isn’t going to show anyone any. All I can do is watch her walk away like I’m as insignificant as the rest of these turds. I’m not, though. I matter. I fucked up and made a mistake. Now all the women in the world are going to tar me with the same brush as every other crim before me. This blows, and it’s not the first time I wish like fucking crazy that I never killed the bloke.
Guilt eats me alive like an infectious disease, because while I know I saved Jamie’s life, I really wish I wasn’t the one. I don’t want to be the hero any more. I just want my life back. I want to be free to chase women like the one I just saw and convince her to marry me and have my babies. All I can see in my future is scorn and disappointment. It’s a huge blow to a guy who once had it all.
I had a girl when this all went down. Unfortunately she didn’t see us as serious enough to wait the four years for me to get out. Jamie tells me she’s married now with a kid. Good on her, I suppose. Who am I to stand in the way of her happiness?
I put my T-shirt and jumper back on now that the source of my heated body temperature has left the vicinity. I’m kind of happy that Clinton isn’t here right now to invade my thoughts with his incessant chatter. I’ve never seen a woman work the jails before and I wonder what the hell she’s doing here. It’s not every girls dream job to work in a prison, surrounded by the likes of us. Yet here she is.
She’s sparked an interest in me. I want to know her story, because let’s face it – everybody has one. There are no more thoughts of sleep as my mind works overtime. Sometimes I wonder how the hell I ended up here. I know how, it’s just coming to terms with it. Saying it out loud and admitting that I’m a hot-headed, fiercely loyal man who always swore to do whatever it took to keep his baby brother safe.
It wasn’t just any night out. It was special. His fiancé made me promise that I would keep an eye out for him. She was worried about him getting too drunk. But that’s what happens when out on a buck’s night, isn’t it? I know you’ve all seen The Hangover. While I wasn’t quite expecting a party of those proportions, I still knew I would have to be the sensible one. I was the protector. I was, and always will be, the big brother. It was my burden.
The night started out like any other. Drinks, dinner, drinks. Drinks, strip club, drinks. Drinks, nightclub, drinks. We were almost home free, winding down the night without any hint of trouble. By three am we were ready to call it a night. We finished last shots at some titty joint in the Cross and then went looking for a cab to take our drunken asses home.
Half my problem was I wasn’t drunk enough to lose the sharp edge that’s ingrained within you – the edge when you feel like your life, or the life of your brother, is in danger. Our group was walking down the alleyway to the main road, not looking for trouble, not wanting it.
I remember how happy we all were. How much we were looking forward to the wedding, the start of a new chapter in Jamie’s life. Two guys ruined all of those hopes and dreams when they stepped out and blocked Jamie’s path. They wanted a smoke. He didn’t have any and, because of alcohol fuelling their obnoxious behavior, a fight ensued. It was just a bunch of dickheads who couldn’t take no for an answer. They didn’t want to walk away. They wanted the fight; so I gave it to them.
They didn’t seem me coming because I was walking further back with my mate, Aaron. He could barely stand, so I had his arm slung over my shoulder to keep him upright. Even through the blur of alcohol and darkened alley way, I could still see clearly the guy take the first swing.
Anger is a wicked mistress, but the fear of your brother being hurt, of someone assaulting him, is much worse. They could punch my head in all day if they liked, but they could not touch a hair on my brother’s head without wearing the consequence. This was a kid who I taught to ride a bike; gave him his fist playboy magazine when he reached puberty, and taught him how to shave properly.
I dropped Aaron like a sack of potatoes, not caring that he sagged without my support. I just ran; no thought for force or consequence. My feet on the blacktop were a clear warning to the huddled group that bigger things were coming their way. I was mad. Furious. Ferocious. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to judge the potency of my punch. It was just one, but that was all it took.
The guy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell straight backwards, head smacking with a sickening thud against the curb. I still hear that sound when I’m sleeping. It’s sounds like that crunching, revolting pop when a dentist rips your tooth out. Unforgettable. Irreparable. We all stood back, waiting for him to get up. His friend was motionless, shock dazing him just as badly it did me.
That night was life-altering for all of us. See guys, smoking really does kill. Pun intended.
With so much alcohol fuelled violence on the streets, I was the first to be made an example of. There was no slap on the wrist, no speeches of misguided intentions. It was straight to maximum for a four year stint
for manslaughter that would seem like an eternity. There were no apologies on either side – just a shit load of regret and more anger.
In a twist of fate, Jamie never ended up marrying that girl. We all lost something. We all changed—forever. Now all I can do is try and pick up the pieces and move on. Hard to do when it all seems like it was all for nothing. I was protecting a brother who had a future, girl, and a life full of promise. But my predicament has his life spiraling out of control, too. What if has to be the most powerful thought that steals its way into my head, time and time again.
I can never be Saxon Miles who was the Driller for a big oil company ever again. I will never be the loved son whose parents were so proud of him either.
I am Saxon Miles the prisoner, convicted killer, lost brother and a disappointment for a son. All I can do now is try to find my way forward, despite being caged with animals that possess an inherent difference – they don’t love the way I do.
#7
Women never forget their first love, no matter how badly it has ended. It’s not the infatuation kind, the lust-filled kind or the brief, whirlwind kind. It’s the kind of love where, you’re away from them and you have a negative physical reaction. You feel… lost, and sick—miserable, almost. I guess I was a little late to the party. I didn’t fall in love until I was twenty-four. Many years later it ended badly. And no, I will never forget Daniel.
My new job was supposed to be a way that I could exist, stumble through life without feeling anything, without dealing with anyone, so that I could pay the mortgage and put food, that I wasn’t going to eat, on the table.
Instead, I’m left feeling horribly confronted and vexed. I can’t describe it, but the way he looked at me was… ambitious. Like he wasn’t going to just stand there and be looked over. And how could I when he looked like that? I may be a grieving widow, but I’m human, too. It’s hard not to stare when someone like that commands your attention.