by Karen Woods
Mikey snatched the letters from his hand, he was eager to open them. Letters from home were like gold dust; news from loved ones, gossip from the outside world, the promise of wives waiting forever for their missing partners were held inside letters from home. Mikey’s time down the block had been hard and he had not one letter from his family during this time. Rachel was never one for writing to her son. She struggled with any emotion and she could never write what she really felt in her heart. Even when she was slammed in prison herself, she struggled to tell anyone how she truly felt, it just wasn’t her style. Mikey unfolded the white piece of paper and studied the words on it, his eyes flicking from side to side. All of a sudden his expression changed and he sat up on his bed, gritting his teeth together. “For fuck’s sake. I’ll rip his fucking head off.” Mikey’s cheeks were blood red and the grip on the letter tightened, knuckles turning white. Potter never said a word, he just sat quietly watching him. Mikey bolted up from the bed. He sprinted to the window and gripped the cold metal bars in his hands, shaking at them rapidly. “I’ll rip his fucking head off. I swear to you, I’ll find him and torture the cunt. What the fuck was she thinking, leaving my money about with that low-life around.” Mikey roared from the pit of his stomach and pushed his head through the small gap. He sucked in mouthfuls of air as his temper boiled. This kid was going sick and he looked like he was losing the plot. This wasn’t normal behaviour and somebody should have spotted this uncontrollable rage a lot sooner.
Potter didn’t know what to do for the best and he looked uncomfortable as he watched Mikey pace around the cell in some sort of trance. His voice was low and he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Potter whispered with his eyes closing slightly, afraid of his reaction.
Why didn’t he keep his big trap shut? Mikey was going ape and he was ready for fucking somebody up. He launched a book across the cell, just missing Potter’s head. Objects were being flung at the wall. “The bastard has taken my money. I’ll string him up. I swear, I’ll cut his balls off and make a necklace out of them. Who the hell does he think he’s messing with? I need a phone. I need a blower as soon as. I have to sort this mess out before he spends a penny of it.” He stormed out of his cell. Potter didn’t know what to do, should he follow him or stay where he was until he’d calmed down? He sat fidgeting. Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he made sure Mikey was gone by popping his head outside the door. Reaching over for the letter, he sat down on the edge of the bed and started to read it quickly. It wasn’t his mail but still, he needed to know what he was up against. If Mikey was upset, he needed to know what had gone down. The letter was written in some sort of code and it took a while to crack it. It was all written in riddles.
Mikey sprinted down the landing and he knew where he was going. Word travelled fast around the jail and he already knew who had mobile phones on the landing. He’d smash their head to bits if they denied it. The mood he was in, nobody was safe, he was a liability. Mikey needed a connection with the outside world and he would do whatever it took to make sure he was in contact with his family during this stressful time. Eyes all over, checking he was safe, Mikey boomed a pad door open and ran straight up to Lee Jones. Taken by surprise, Jones didn’t have a clue what was happening. Attacks like this usually happened in the showers or just before bang up at night, never at this time of the day. Inmates would use anything as weapons, most of the time it consisted of putting a few tins of Tuna in a sock and whacking fuck out of their victims with it. There were some gruesome attacks that went on inside. Stabbings, boiling water being thrown over each other, that was just the tip of the iceberg. The nonces were the ones who got the most stick. The attacks made on them were enough to make your toes curl. The kiddy fiddlers were kept away from the main prisoners but there were times when they were vulnerable. If an inmate got a grip of one it was Goodnight Vienna for them. Skulls were smashed, faces slashed with cold metal blades, their injuries were endless.
Mikey gripped Lee by the scruff of the neck and pinned him up against the wall, his warm breath right in his victim’s face. “Phone! Now! Don’t make me snap your jaw. Just hand it over. I’m in no mood for shit today.”
Lee was stuttering, the colour draining from his face. He had no other option than to go to his hideout and give up the mobile he had. Lee could have denied having a blower but what was the point in taking a beating when he could avoid it? Shit like this happened every day and sometimes you just had to take a loss on the chin. Lee closed his door slowly and rolled his body under the bed. His heart was racing and he knew his life was in danger. There were scraping noises, struggled breathing and rustling. Mikey dipped his head down and spotted the loose brick in the wall behind the single bed. This was a top hideout and somewhere he would never have thought of stashing something. The prisoner was taking ages, fucking about trying to put the brick back into the wall. Mikey dragged him out by his leg and wrestled with him slightly. He dusted the iPhone off and nodded his head. Lee feared for his life and sat near the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest. He was bricking it, shitting himself. Was it over or was he going to get wasted? Mikey looked over at him and just for a split second he felt sorry for him. He could see the fear in his eyes. He knew how it felt to be the underdog and hated himself for putting someone else through it but what choice did he have? Mikey reflected back on days gone by. When he was in care horrible things had happened to him, things he would never tell anybody, things that sometimes kept him awake at night. His voice was low as he slid the phone down the crack of his arse. Mikey offered his hand out and helped pull Lee back up from the floor. “I’ll sort you a basher out when things get rolling. I just need one for an emergency at home, you know how it is. No hard feelings, ay?”
Lee’s eyes were wide open. Unsure of his safety, he quivered. “No, sorted bro, just remember to get me one back if you can. I’m not arsed what type it is either. I just need one to ring my daughter each night and tell her a bedtime story.”
Mikey cringed. What the hell was up with him? Was he going soft or what? His eyes closed slightly and he remembered when he used to wait for a phone call from his own father when he was in nick. He’d also called him a few times after he got out but as time went on, the contact between them just ended. It was like his father had disappeared off the face of the earth. He’d tried finding him a few years ago but nobody knew anything about him. Or maybe they did, but they were just keeping schtum. It seemed like his father was a taboo subject that nobody was willing to talk about. “Leave it with me,” Mikey said at last, “like I said, I’ll sort it out as soon as I can.”
Mikey took a deep breath and got on his toes. As soon as he came out of the pad he dipped his eyes and made his way back down the landing. He didn’t spot Mark watching him like a hawk from above. He knew this kid was up to no good and he started to head down the stairs to get a grip of him. Mikey stood talking to a few prisoners outside his door. From the corner of his eye he could see the screw bouncing towards him. His cheeks were beetroot and he clenched his arse cheeks tighter, making sure the phone stayed in the crack of his arse. Mark stood tall, he was in no mood for any confrontation. “A word now Milne!” he shrieked.
Mikey had to keep his cool, not give anything away. His neck was on the line here. “What’s up boss?”
Mark’s eyes were wide open and he could have punched this hard-faced fucker right out given the chance. “Come down to my office. We need a chat… I mean now! Not in fucking ten minutes!”
Mark had a face like thunder and it was only when the inmate started to walk slowly down to his office that he began to relax. Mikey stepped into the room and slumped into a chair. He leaned back and was balancing on two legs as Mark entered the room. The door slammed shut and the screw sat on the edge of the table facing him. Mikey was a pain in the arse and no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t break him down. Mark kept his cool and never took his eyes from the prisoner. “I’ve
just seen you coming out of Jones’s pad. What’s the crack there and don’t feed me any bullshit, or else I’ll have you strip searched and you’ll be on another nicking. The choice is yours, mate.”
Mikey’s heart was beating rapidly, did this cunt know he had a phone stashed or what? He wasn’t sure. The last thing he needed was a strip search, he had to think on his feet. His voice was confident as he answered him. “I don’t know what you mean, Boss. I was just sat chatting with him, he’s being having few problems lately with his missus and needed a bit of advice, that’s all. You know me, I like to listen sometimes, help people out.” Mikey sucked on his bottom lip - was he buying it? He wasn’t sure.
Mark gasped his breath and spoke in a sarcastic voice. “And, since when have you been a counsellor? Listen, don’t take me for a dickhead. We both know what goes on in this joint, so cut the crap. I’ll tell you what, I’ll get the boys in here and we’ll see if you’re telling me the truth. One last chance, tell me what’s going on.”
Mikey wasn’t sure of his next move, he was backed into a corner and knew he had to come up with something fast. This guy was on the ball and there was no pulling the wool over his eyes, he knew the script better than he first thought. “If I tell you the truth are you going to nick me for it?”
Mark scratched the side of his nose. What a result this was, he never expected this in a million years, a breakthrough at last. He thought he was going to have to do this the hard way. Things happened inside this jail and to give a convict a good arse-kicking when nobody was watching was something everybody turned a blind eye to. “I’m listening, just tell me what’s happened and then I’ll decide what I’m going to do with you.”
Mikey had to pull this one out of the bag and his voice was low. He was such a lying bastard and deceiving people was second nature to him. His expression changed and he was putting on a show any actor would have been proud of. He sat forward in his chair, legs apart with his hands dangling down. Here it was, his attempt at getting off with his crime. “Lee needed a phone to ring his missus. I said I’d sort him one out. You know me, I’ll do anything to hook a brother up,” he looked the screw straight in his eye and never flinched. “Lee was ready to string himself up, honest, he was in a bad way. So I sorted it for him,” he licked his lips as he continued, “I know a few lads had mobiles on the wing and I just sort of lent him one for a while,” he smirked. “Okay, I never borrowed it, I taxed it.”
Mark sniggered. Did this kid think he was born yesterday? What a load of codswallop this was; pure lies. He delved deeper. “Mikey, give your head a bleeding shake and just tell me the truth. I’ve had a hard day and all I want to do is get home and get my head down. I’ve got enough shit going on in my own life without having to fill out paperwork for you, every bastard day. Why don’t you turn it in and just get your head down and do your time. It’s not rocket science is it?” Mark twisted a pen between his fingers and his stress levels were rising. His cheeks were on fire. “Every wing meeting I have in this place it’s your name that keeps popping up. You just attract trouble wherever you are, don’t you?”
Mikey was defensive. So what if people thought he was trouble? He was in prison, what did they expect? “It does my head in you know. I never, ever, get a second chance. As soon as anything is going down, it’s always my name that’s thrown into the mix, even if I’ve got fuck all to do with it. My card has been marked for as long as I can remember, so what’s the fucking point in even trying to change? I’m used to it now.” He watched the screw from the corner of his eye. He knew when he’d used this story in the past it had always earned him some brownie points and, judging by Mark’s expression, he was ticking the boxes yet again. Sympathy was a great emotion and it was something he’d learned how to manipulate. Everyone wanted to help a lost soul; save them, put them back on the right track. Meddling bastards they were, fucking know-it-alls who knew nothing about the real world and how people lived.
Mark’s voice changed as he sat on the chair facing Mikey. He knew exactly what he meant by his words and he could identify with the prisoner. Nobody ever gave him a second chance either. Nobody really trusted him anymore if he was being honest with himself, not even his wife. Looking up to the ceiling, he began to speak. His tone changed now and he was actually feeling sorry for the lad. “Mikey, you’re a young man with your whole life set out in front of you. You’ve just had a bad start that’s all. My job is to help you try and change. All the help is here for you, you’ve just got to let people in and stop pressing the self-destruct button all the time.”
Mikey was a cunning fucker, he smirked and ran his fingers through his hair. All he needed to do now was to tell him a few things about his life and he would have him eating out of the palm of his hand. This one always worked, got them onside. “Blah, blah fucking blah. Don’t you think I’ve heard all this shit before? Nobody can help me. I’m a lost cause. My life has been shit, my own mother was a smackhead and I’ve been in the care system for as long as I can remember.” Mikey was blurting it out now, he was holding nothing back. He was telling him things he should have kept to himself. “My dad fucked off when I was a kid and I’ve looked after myself for as long as I can remember. So don’t give me that ‘we can help you’ story. My head was burnt out ages ago, nobody can do fuck all. It’s gone too far.”
Mark rolled his sleeve up slightly and checked his watch. He had a bit of time left before his shift ended and he really thought he’d crossed a bridge with this inmate. He was ready to do anything to try and help him. “Everyone has shit in their lives mate. Even me. I know you think I probably have it all but trust me, you don’t know the half of it.” Mark should have stopped right there but for some reason, today his problems at home were there for everyone to see. He folded his arms tightly across his chest and seemed in a world of his own as he confessed how fucked his own life really was. “I’m in debt up to my eyeballs lad and if something doesn’t give soon, I’ll lose my wife and my home.” Mark was giving out confidential information now and had clearly forgotten who he was talking to.
Mikey was listening carefully and he was never one to miss an opportunity to challenge somebody. “Stop lying to me. You have a good job that pays well. You must be stacking the cash, how can you have money troubles, don’t make me laugh!”
Mark dipped his head and cupped his hands together, playing with his fingers. “You don’t want to know pal… anyway,” he gave his head a shake and realised he was revealing too much about his personal life, “let me help you out and see how it goes. I promise I won’t judge you and I will give you a second chance.”
Mikey chuckled. What a load of bullshit this was, these were just words – the same words every Tom, Dick and Social Worker had said to him over the years. Mikey was listening and looked at the screw more closely. But then perhaps this Mark wasn’t that bad after all, perhaps he’d got him all wrong? “Yeah, let’s see. I can’t think as far as tomorrow at the moment, never mind the future. Just let me stew over it for a while and I’ll get back to you. There’s no rush is there. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, is it!”
Mark looked puzzled and went to his computer screen. He sat at his desk and it was clear that something had unnerved him. “What did you say your dad was called?”
Mikey shrugged his shoulders. Why was he asking that? With caution, he sat forward in his seat and answered him. “Dennis, my dad’s called Dennis.”
Mark scrolled down the screen and he seemed to be reading something on one of his files. The keyboard clicked rapidly as he punched at the keys. Mark sat reading again. The colour drained from his cheeks and he lifted his head up slowly. Mikey was uneasy and although he didn’t speak, he knew something was going on. The screw sprang to his feet and changed the subject quickly. What the hell was going on? “Right, erm. Let’s talk again tomorrow. I’ll have a word with the others and tell them to back off for a while.”
Mikey sniggered, he’d done his job. He wasn’t getting a strip search. He
stood to his feet and looked the officer up and down. Perhaps, these two could work together after all, they could help each other out, scratch each other’s backs. Mikey whistled as he left the room. “In a big-un.”
*
Brendan Mellor sat in his pad and punched his fist into the pillow. He’d show Mikey Milne what he was about. How could he just sell him out like that? Somehow, someway, he was getting what was coming to him. Everybody was right about him, even his own father had told him that Mikey was all about himself. He’d argued and defended his mate and called his old man a liar but, not now, not anymore. Now he saw him for the self-centred prick he really was. It was every man for himself from this day forward and he was going to bring Mikey down the second he got the chance. His mate had ruined his life, taken his freedom away, and all for what? It was payback time!
*
Mark finished his shift and made his way to the car park. The van containing more prisoners being shipped to the jail was pulling up inside the grounds. The officer stood watching from a distance as he popped a well-deserved cigarette in his mouth. Smithy came to join him and shook his head as they heard the shouting and screaming of an inmate being dragged from the van. This criminal was hardcore and even as they watched, they knew the new inmate would land on their wing. All the troubled convicts somehow ended up on their blocks. Mark chugged hard on his fag and shook his head. “Fuck me, like we need any more shit on our turf,” his eyes shot back to the commotion opposite them. “Do you think we should give the lads a lift with that one? It looks like he’s overpowering them. Three of them are on him and they’re not moving him an inch.”
Smithy shot a look over and patted Mark on the shoulder. “You finish your cig. I’ll just run over and lend a hand.” Mark watched as his work colleague sprinted into action. Smithy would sort this new guy out, he was a master at restraining even the hardest of criminals, he would take him down in one move, put him on his arse. Mark flicked the butt from his cigarette and listened to the loud noises coming from the van. He sniggered to himself and craned his neck. The situation was under control now and just as he had thought, Smithy had helped them get the new prisoner inside the jail. He would have given him a good hiding no doubt, ragged him about.
