by P. G. Burns
Elsie shrugged. “Eric may be a prick but he is the prick boss. It’s not worth causing a fuss. If I was you I would just suck it up. You’ve only got a few more months left and then you don’t have to see him ever again.” Sara thought for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. I can last for a few more months.” The two women nodded in shared pain and then Sara said, “You guys didn’t believe I’d had sex with him, did you?”
“Oh no, dear, of course not. Apparently he had you swinging from the chandelier in pure orgasmic delight!”
They shared a glance and then both dissolved into hysterics.
The next few months were tough for Sara at work as Eric became even viler towards her. She coped with the hassle, knowing her term with him was soon over and because she had Shane at home to wine, dine and make love to her each night. Sara had discovered a very sensitive and intelligent man. She could feel the power in his arms and knew what he was capable of and guilty of in the past but she honestly believed that this was the best man she could hope to meet. She was also amazed at how clever he was.
“If you had had a proper education you could have been a doctor or anything you wanted,” she often told him, meaning every word.
Up until she met Shane, Sara had only had one tattoo which comprised of five tiny stars on her foot. But after seeing some of the tattoos Shane drew she begged him to ink her shoulder, trusting him to decide what to do. After six hours of surprisingly not overly intense pain he finished and showed her his work in the mirror.
“Wow.”
She was truly gobsmacked, it was beautiful. It was not until she looked closer that she cried, emotion building as she fully took in the scene. A little girl, who Sara identified as herself when she was a tot, sat in the hands of a beautiful angel. It was when Sara recognised her mother’s face that the tears fell. The detail and accuracy was startling, the compassion it portrayed was overwhelming. She held Shane tight as the tears ran down, ignoring the burning pain from her shoulder.
“I love you, Shane.” The first time he ever heard those words from a sober woman.
“I love you too.” The first time he’d ever said those words to anyone.
One month before Shane and Sara were due to go to Majorca for their first holiday together, the staff of the clinic were all invited to attend a gala dinner after being awarded a government citation for work in the community. Sara was not that keen to go, she’d not enjoyed the last three months very much and was looking forward to leaving it all behind but Elsie and Mary begged her to come. “It won’t be any fun without you,” they moaned.
Still Sara wasn’t sure. She was concerned about Eric’s behaviour although she hadn’t mentioned anything to Shane, knowing he may revert back to busting heads if he felt she was being mistreated.
When Shane found out about the event he told her she was stupid not to go and even suggested he drop her off and pick her up if she wanted so she could just relax and have a good time. With everyone pushing her to go, she relented. Maybe she would have fun after all and Shane would be right outside.
The dinner was at the Parkside Hotel in the centre of Manchester. Shane noticed that Sara was quiet on the way. He also noticed that, for her, she was dressed very conservatively. He guessed she would be meeting some toffs and didn’t want to look slutty.
“Everything okay?” he inquired as he pulled up outside the foyer.
“I’m fine, just don’t like mixing business with pleasure.” She played with his collar. “And I miss you already.”
Shane stuck his fingers down his throat and Sara gave him a playful slap.
“I will wait down the road with my book,” he said. “I’ll be five minutes away.”
Sara felt better. “Good, because I won’t be staying long.” The couple kissed as the queue of cars beeped at them.
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
Sara entered the large function room and located the girls. A feeling of nausea came over her as she saw Eric and another young doctor sitting with them. She thought about turning and heading back to Shane.
“Sara, Sara, over here!” called Elsie. Too late.
Sara sat next to Elsie but Eric made a point of sitting the other side of her. He leaned close to speak.
“Sara, I want to apologise for the way I have treated you lately. It’s a tough business this one we’re in and it would do you no favours if I didn’t show you the down side as well as the ups.”
Charming, she thought, unsure if he was telling the truth or not. At least she felt less awkward now the elephant in the room had been addressed. She looked at the pathetic excuse for a man and accepted his apology.
Dinner was great and the entertainment surprisingly good but Sara was still careful not to drink.
“Why aren’t you drinking? You scared you won’t be able to resist Eric?” Elsie whispered to Sara, followed by a cackle of laughter.
“I would need to mainline heroin for that to happen,” replied Sara.
The girls laughed a little too loud and she hoped Eric didn’t hear, but then decided that actually she didn’t give a toss if he did or not; this was nearly the last time she would ever have to see him.
A little after ten-thirty Sara texted Shane: Meet you in the foyer at eleven. I’ve had enough xxx
She smiled at the thought of the tough man waiting in the car with his book for her and then felt eyes on her. Eric was watching. Even his eyes were grubby, she thought.
Eric raised his hand and had champagne delivered to the table.
“Raise your glasses,” he said as he poured out a glass for everyone at the table. “A toast to the best clinic in Manchester and a fond farewell to Sara!”
Sara wasn’t that fussed when the drink ran out before he’d filled her glass.
“Not to worry,” she said. “I’ll toast with water.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” Eric said loudly and everybody around the table agreed. “Anyway, it’s okay – I have another bottle here.”
Sara’s mistrust of Eric raised her suspicions but when he produced a small 187ml still-corked bottle of Korbel brut – her favourite tipple (the prick obviously remembered) – she thought, what the heck, and popped it open to join in the toast, knowing she was leaving soon anyway. They raised their glasses and cheered to their success and Sara’s future career.
Maybe it hadn’t been so bad at the clinic after all, she thought. She might even miss it a bit.
First her neck and cheeks became hot and then the room began to tilt ever so slightly. She looked at the time on her phone but had trouble reading the numbers.
“You all right, love?” asked Elsie.
“Yes, I just need to go,” she muttered.
Maybe she’d drunk more than she thought? Or maybe she was coming down some sort of virus – damn it! Not for our holiday! Knew I shouldn’t have come tonight, she thought and with a quick goodbye she left and walked across the dance floor past some tables.
Her vision had become tunnelled and the tunnel was getting smaller. Sara told herself, just make it to the foyer, Shane will be there and everything will be all right.
As she staggered out of the glitzy room she was suddenly afraid she was suffering some sort of colloquial brain attack. All she could think was, don’t have a stroke in front of all these people!
She exited the function room into a corridor that led to the foyer. She could see it, nearly there! On the left a lift pinged opened next to her and she vaguely made out an older couple exit. Then a hand took her arm and she felt powerless to resist as she was guided into the lift.
It was like she had no control over her own body and the sudden and horrifying realisation that she has been drugged did little to stem the effects. The lift rose, the doors opened and the corridor was spinning. Doors then more doors, the hand was tightening around her arm. She saw a man in some sort of uniform walking past. Why doesn’t he help me? she thought.
“She’s just had one too many,” said the owner
of the hand, guiding her.
She knew that voice. A door opened but she couldn’t feel her legs. She was carried inside, numb from top to toe. He laid her on a table and started to undress her. Her chin banged against his head as he pulled her top over her head. “Stop, please stop,” she said but the words were not forming.
Eric was having a great time as he pulled off her boots.
“Laugh at me, will you, you fucking little prick-tease?” he said, gleefully pushing her bra up and cupping an exposed breast. He was out of control, shaking with anticipation, sweat dripping from his brow as he fumbled at removing her knickers before positioning himself to mount her.
“Come now, Sara, we both know why you came here tonight.”
Eric’s mind was rationalising. He wasn’t a bad man, she wanted this. He didn’t even need to drug her really, that was just a kindness to help her get past the guilt of picking him over that Neanderthal thug.
“You want this bad, don’t you?” he said, pulling her legs apart and forcing his fingers up inside her. A wide grin spread across his face. “Oh, we’re a bit dry. Let’s get this cunt moist.”
Deluded, he believed his fumbling was arousing her. He sucked on his bottom lip as his eyes rolled, revealing his own arousal was already near climax.
“You like that, don’t you? I bet soldier boy doesn’t know his way around your sweet pussy like I do. Well, we’ve waited long enough. Christmas was a long time ago. Let’s get down to the main event, little miss perfect.”
Sara couldn’t even feel her body. Her mind was a swirling blur. She could just make out Eric’s form floating above her. She tried to focus, seeing the glistening forehead drip sweat down his nose and the foam from his mouth like a rabid dog that was attempting to mount her. Beyond horrified it was all Sara could do to move her lips. Eric took this as an invitation and invaded her mouth. His slobber slipping down into her unresponsive throat.
The noise coming from him barely formed words. His main concern was not to come before he entered her. Still he continued to poke at her with what felt to her like a shitty stick until he successfully entered her. It didn’t take long, a few jerks that banged her into the table and then his whole body went into spasm as he ejaculated. She was thankful her body had no feeling but the pure violation made her want to curl up and die.
The sick pig grunted as he collapsed on top of her, wet with gratification, his already limp penis barely inside her. Through the horror she became aware of someone else behind Eric, a menacing shadow. She could hardly see who, but somehow she knew.
The force with which Eric was pulled from his victim gave him some indication of what was to follow. Shane had been trained to kill. He pulled Eric up by the hair, exposing his throat. He then smashed his fist into it, full power, collapsing the windpipe. Shane dropped him and went to Sara, turned her on her side and held her close to him. He covered her up as two security guards rushed in. One spoke through his walkie-talkie, “Ambulance required.” He looked at Eric, “Make that two.” The two men looked more concerned about Eric than Sara. Shane wiped her brow trying to comfort her.
“Sara, can you hear me? Sara?” Shane hardly noticed that the guards were desperately trying to resuscitate Eric.
The defence lawyer would claim that in the heat of the moment Shane had lashed out, not aiming for anywhere in particular, his only intention had been to protect Sara from the monster that was raping her. It came out in the trial that Eric had tainted the drink he’d given Sara with rohypnol using a syringe through the top to avoid breaking the seal so Sara would not suspect anything.
The prosecution called expert witnesses that confirmed that Shane was a trained killer and his blow to the throat was a “kill blow” and that was the intention. The jury found him guilty of manslaughter, rejecting the prosecution’s argument that it was fully intentional. But they had got it wrong, Shane was well aware he was pressing the off button. Still, justice was done and “Eric the prick” died, with trousers round his ankles, gasping for breath.
Given the chance would he do it again? Would he and Sara still be happy and together if he’d just knocked the vile piece of shit out? Was it even worth thinking about? What was done was done.
Since his incarceration Shane has not received a single visit, not even a letter from Sara. He doesn’t blame her; after all it was he who had insisted she forget about him. But still.
“Mills, the Governor wants to see you,” shouts Officer Goodwin. “Come on, quickly.”
Shane puts his auntie’s letter away. “What does he want?”
“I don’t fucking know. Do I look like his fucking secretary?”
Goodwin is a prick and everyone knows it.
No-Legs is nearby and can’t resist a good jibe. “No, you got bigger tits than her plus she doesn’t suck the Governor’s cock as often as you do!”
Everybody laughs except Goodwin.
“I will sort you later,” frowns Goodwin. “Come on, Mills, move it.”
They head out of the wing and through the north yard into the admin building and up the stairs to the main offices. Governor Byrne is a good man from what Shane can deduce. Goodwin knocks.
“Come in.”
Shane enters and sees the Governor sitting at his desk with a smartly dressed woman in her late forties or early fifties beside him. The woman is quite striking with platinum hair and tanned skin. She radiates class. Shane is surprised at the attractiveness of such a mature lady. “She must have been something in her day,” he thinks to himself.
“Well, come in, come in,” repeats the Governor.
Shane enters and Goodwin leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Sit down, please, Mills.”
Shane sits down in the chair opposite the three people wondering what this is all about.
“This is Solfrid Gjerde,” says the Governor.
The attractive woman greets him with a smile that knows its power over men and in a strong Scandinavian accent she says, “I am sorry to drag you up here.”
Shane is bemused. “Well, so long as I don’t miss playtime,” he grins.
She smile again and Shane notices her perfectly shaped teeth, all sparkling white.
“I am here to ask,” she says, “if you would like to have better conditions? For example, a bigger cell with a TV and shower in it? And the possibility of up to two days a month of supervised outings, leading to tagged release one year earlier than the recommendation.”
Shane raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Who do I have to fuck to get that?”
Shane and the woman called Solfrid share a flirtatious glance and the Governor shifts awkwardly in his chair.
“No one needs fucking,” she says. “Your government have asked me to set up an experimental facility based on the detention units we use back in Sweden. In Sweden we have reduced the amount of re-offenders by over fifty per cent leading to the closure of six prisons. This at a time when here, your country is choked full of prisoners and needing to build new facilities.”
As Shane hears the words he is making a note that he must visit Sweden if this is what the old ones look like.
“The unions won’t be happy with closures,” he jibes. “However, if you want to offer me a TV, a shower, and some early release,” he winks. “Then I accept.”
Governor Byrne coughs. “The facility is not here you understand. You would have to transfer to a unit specially adapted for the project. It’s up near Blackpool.”
“We have adapted an old air force base to accommodate forty prisoners,” says Solfrid. “You have been selected from over eighty-five thousand eligible inmates. I feel this is a great opportunity for you. The plan carries on after your release as we have a two-year ‘back to society’ package, which will include setting up jobs and accommodation if needed. What do you say? Sounds good, yes?”
“It sounds fucking great, but why me?”
Solfrid shrugs. “I’m not sure, you must f
it the criteria set out by the company.”
Shane looks around suspiciously. He’s never believed in blind luck before and the belief has held him in good stead so far in life. Something Leo said also occurs to him: “They will probably try to separate you and me if they think I am telling you these things so don’t tell anyone.” Shane doubts this is what’s happening now but still, he knows if something sounds too good to be true then there is usually a catch.
“Can I think about it?” he asks.
The woman looks surprised. “What is there to think about? Surely you don’t want to stay in this archaic dump?”
Solfrid’s comments are not appreciated by the Governor, who tells Shane, “It is your choice, of course. We will give you twenty-four hours. How does that sound, Miss Gjerde?”
Shane picks up on the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. This beautiful mature lady looks different, her eyes change from sparkling to piercing.
Eventually she relents. “Very well. I will return tomorrow. You have until then or we will pick another for this great opportunity.”
Shane nods. Just as he stands the phone rings.
“Hmm, must be important,” the Governor says, picking it up apologetically. The look on his face tells everyone something serious has happened.
“Stabbed? Who? Leo Verdi! Why would anyone… Never mind.” The Governor bangs the receiver down and shouts, “Goodwin!”
Goodwin rushes in, “Yes, Gov?”
“Guard Mills. I’ve got to get down to C wing immediately. There’s been a stabbing. Heaven help us, one inmate is dead!”
Shane sits back down in shock.
Leo is dead?
As Leo watches Shane being led out by Goodwin, he asks Johnny where he is being taken.
“Governor wants to see him,” answers Johnny. “Don’t know what for though. You know how helpful fatty Goodwin is.”
Leo hates the fact that he relies on his big, tough friend to protect him in here. His fear has grown ten-fold since the Black Muslim arrived. Leo has noticed Robert Price watching his every move. Even the other Muslims on the wing seem wary of this guy and rumours of how he kills his foes do nothing to calm Leo’s worries.
