A burly guard with a nasty,
toothless grin unlocked my cell door and took the familiar metal tray from his
trolley, his short sleeved shirt exposing his thick, tattooed arms. A dragon
traced its way from wrist to elbow on his left arm whilst a snake did the same
on his right. I watched the brown and black scales of the snake move and twitch
as he placed our food and drink on the floor before locking the door. We were his
last call, and as he strode past the other prisoners he gave them all the same
toothless stare.
The walls echoed as he slammed
the heavy door behind him and turned the key. It had been four or five days but I still couldn’t get used to that
sound. I stood up and gingerly walked over to get my share, somewhat
surprised that there was only one orange and one plastic cup. My first thought
was that I’d have a fight on my hands and I looked around for my cellmate,
preparing myself. But he was gone. Whether he’d been freed, moved or taken to
court didn’t interest me in the slightest, I really didn’t give a shit and was
glad to have the place to myself. I wondered when they’d taken him though, and
tried to recall the previous few hours. Most of it was a blur; endless hours of
nothingness interspersed with shouting and sleep.
I felt disorientated and weak
as I made my way back to the corner of what was now my cell. My stomach was in a constant state of unrest, a
combination of hunger and nervous anticipation about what the day would hold.
Over and over, my head pounded with Carmela’s words: “manslaughter and arson.”
Feeling sick I sat down, crossed my legs and peeled off the orange skin. Very
slowly, one by one, I separated the segments. The longer I took eating the
orange the further I was away from meeting the judge at the court house. “Manslaughter
and arson.” The words circled around my head.
The orange was sour and I spat
most of it out along with the pips, firing them into the cups. The water was a
welcoming taste though - even warm, it drowned out the bitterness in my mouth.
I finished it in three gulps and placed the cup alongside the others. Nine
plastic cups. Apart from Carmella, I hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, so the
only communication I’d had was with myself. At times I’d even spoken to the
cups, and as stupid as it sounds now, I had a name for each one. Each day there
were another two cups; each day two new members of a growing family.
My eyes were heavy and tired
from another sleepless night of tossing and turning on the damp, concrete
floor. I wiped some sticky sleep away from my eyes and rubbed it onto my jeans.
I hadn’t changed them since I’d left the hostel which seemed like a lifetime
ago and even though Rosa had washed them for me, they now smelt of smoke, piss
and shit, as did my shirt. I was in desperate need of a shower.
I looked around at the other
prisoners who were unusually quiet. Some stood with their arms hanging out
between the cell bars, smoking and staring at each other, whilst others had
their heads down, staring at the floor. I had no doubt that they were all
wondering when they would ever be getting out of there, as was I. Looking
around I tried to take it all in: vulnerable men, incarcerated for whatever
reason, not having a clue about what the next day would bring. Just looking at
them, I felt sorry for them. I thought of my family: my mum, dad, brothers and
sister. What the hell would they think if they knew? Did they know? Had anyone
told them? I felt my stomach fall and did all that I could to contain it.
Sometime later, the clanking
of keys and the turning of the lock made me look up and I stared across the
cell as the basement door opened. The same, toothless guard appeared. Passing
the other cells, he marched towards me, occasionally lashing out at the arms of
the prisoners with his baton, still smiling that ugly grin of his as he did so.
What a bastard. The prisoners he hit
yelled out in pain, but they still spat back at him, most times managing to
connect with the side of his face and the back of his neck. It looked like a
sick and twisted game; one I didn’t understand at first. But it was obvious
they were asserting the last bit of freedom they had left, the one thing the
guards couldn’t take away.
When he reached my cell door
he fumbled for the key on his belt. I was surprised he could find any keys at
all; he was grossly overweight with an enormous stomach that hung down over his
blue uniformed trousers. When he located the right one and opened the door, he
pointed at me with two fingers and he told me to get up.
“Jesus… here goes,” I muttered
to myself. As I stood, he approached me, grinning as he did so and wiping
salvia from his face. He tossed two white laces onto the floor and I knelt down
and picked them up. Taking both ends of each lace, I carefully measured them
and pushed them through each eyelet of my trainers one at a time - first my
left and then my right. He shouted at me to hurry up and with fright I glanced
up at him. With the baton in one hand, he was hitting the palm of his other,
his grin diminished to an evil stare. I hurriedly finished tying them and stood
up. We were nose to nose. His breath was rancid.
It occurred to me that the
last time I’d cleaned my teeth was at Rosa’s apartment, days earlier. Cupping
my hand over my mouth, I blew into it and inhaled. It was just as bad as that
of my jailer, but at least I had an excuse. Thoughts of Rosa whirred around in
my mind. Why didn’t I just go back to
you? Why the hell did I go back into the hotel?
Suddenly, the guard took hold
of both my arms, turned me around and shoved me into the wall. With all
thoughts of Rosa lost, the side of my face rebounded off the concrete and I
felt warm blood trickle from my lip as the plastic cups splayed across the
floor. Grabbing hold of my wrists, he pulled them together around my back and
handcuffed me.
“Why do you have to be so
rough?” I questioned, but he just laughed, his heavy breath sliding down the
back of my neck.
He marched me out of the cell,
slamming the door behind us. We strode past the other prisoners who whistled
and clapped, trying to reach out and grab me by my shirt. He opened the door
and we made our way along the corridor, past the room where I’d met Carmela, up
three flights of stairs and along the narrow hallway with the arched ceiling. I
felt uncomfortable and claustrophobic again, even more so knowing where we were
heading. The windows, now to my right, were letting in the early morning light.
The sun was out and I hadn’t seen natural light for days. He gripped my arm as
we walked to the end of the corridor, his tattooed snake staring at me as I
looked down and counted the tiles out loud again - thirty six, exactly the same
number of steps and tiles as before.
The
guard fumbled for the key and I wondered again how he ever
managed to see over his stomach, but in one attempt he found it and unlocked
the door. When the bright morning sun hit my eyes, I instantly turned away and
looked down, unable to cover my eyes because of the handcuffs. The sensation of
the heat was incredible and for a moment I was transported, a beautiful vision
of Rosa and I lying on the beach playing out in my mind. But it was
short-lived.
A blue police van screeched to
a halt in front of us and the driver jumped out and unlocked the two back
doors. The guard yanked me onto the pavement and then onto the road.
There was a caged door between
the door and the back of the van. He opened it and I felt the full force of his
hands on my back as he pushed me inside. I managed to steady myself and slumped
down onto an empty seat to my left. There were four other male prisoners in the
back of the van, all staring at me, and when they started to shout at me I was
relieved that they were handcuffed too.
I couldn’t understand why
there was so much hatred towards me. Was it because I was English? Had they
heard about my charges? Shifting my body, I turned my back to ignore them as
the driver turned the key in the ignition, and as the engine came to life and
we made our way to the court, I stared out of the window watching the world
rush by, terrified of what lay ahead.
