Day 1
The door shutting behind him sounds like the loudest thing in the world. He's trapped, no two ways about it. Within an instant he feels like all his freedoms been taken away, and he's no more than a caged bird. It's suffocating. He's not one for panic attacks, but he could have one right here, right now.
The cell feels incredibly enclosed, and as sparse as he'd guessed it would be, just a bed and the barest essentials. The sheerest amount of light is coming through, but it still feels dank and dark. His home now for the next few months.
Ste's never been to prison before, but he can't say that he never saw it in his future. He'd been told plenty of times by his step dad Terry, "there's only one place you'll end up boy, and it's going to be surrounded by coppers."
He'd even wondered what his own kids thought of him, whether when he came home with stolen goods they realised that the nappies and food were nicked from the shops. He knew it was illogical, that they were too young to work out what was really going on, but that gnawing fear still existed in his mind.
Ste didn't want to do these things. He hated lying to Amy about it, hated living under her roof and pretending that he had a job somewhere in Chester. It was becoming harder and harder to deceive her, and make up a whole host of reasons why she couldn't come and visit him at work. He'd become angry with her in the end, telling her to butt out, that he was under a lot of stress from his manager. He felt like scum when she would later apologise to him.
The fact was, Ste did want to work. He wanted to meet new people, to earn money, to feel like he existed for a purpose. It wasn't fair that Amy should have to provide everything from her job in College Coffee.
He had tried for months to apply for anything, from working at a cafe to a supermarket, to cleaning the toilets. Either he was turned away immediately because of his criminal record - a short stint in young offenders for joyriding - or he'd get the job and then be let off a few weeks later, for his "behaviour." Ste knew he had problems with his temper, that he wasn't good at listening to instructions. He got sick of people having a go at him for his dyslexia, and punching one guy who'd called him stupid hadn't exactly endeared him to his employers.
He felt like he'd had no choice in the end. He had to make money. He couldn't stand the idea of seeing Leah and Lucas go without, to see them cold and hungry like he'd often been when he was younger.
There had been no buzz off shoplifting like there had been in the past as a boy. The thrill was entirely replaced by the fear of being caught. Ste was sure that it would be written all over his face, that he'd be as white as a ghost, that he'd look skittish and would attract attention.
But he found himself getting away with it time and time again. He was skinny, and this often helped him to slip in and out of places virtually unnoticed. And seeing Amy and the kids smiling faces made it all seem okay, made the guilt lessen, if only for an hour or two.
Perhaps he got reckless, started to relax and think that the hand on his shoulder would never come. When it did he'd sat in a room at the back of a shop, thinking this is going to be okay, I'll just get let off with a warning or a caution, they'll think it's just a silly one time thing.
He hadn't realised that the security guards had been after him for weeks, that news had spread from other shops. Suddenly he was Chester's most wanted.
Once his finger prints had been put on the system it had become even worse. His last offense had been there in black and white, impossible to avoid. He could see the policeman looking at him, could tell what they were thinking. Not a first timer then. No getting away with this.
The worst thing was Amy's face, and Leah and Lucas's small hands desperately trying to hold onto him when he'd been led away. Amy had thought that it was for the best that the kids stay away from the court completely, but Ste knew what the verdict would be, knew that this could be his last chance to see them for a long time. Michaela looked after them in a cafe nearby, only bringing them in at the end.
They seemed to instinctively know what was happening, and when they heard the guilty verdict, the tears of their father, Ste saw their expressions turn to that of distress. He looked at Amy, needed to find some reassurance there from his best friend, needed to communicate how sorry he was for keeping all this from her.
She wasn't ready to forgive him yet though. Ste thinks about it now in his cell, pictures her face, hard, cold, mask like. He'd watched as she had held Leah and Lucas, looking like she wasn't just protecting them from all of this, but from him.
All that trust that he'd built up, proving to her that he had changed, that he wouldn't hit her again or put her in danger, and it felt like he was beginning from scratch again.
Ste feels tears spring to his eyes, and hurriedly wipes them away. He refuses to be pathetic, refuses to let anyone see him cry. He knows his skinny frame won't do him any favours in here, so the least he can do is seem as strong as he can in other ways.
He'd usually be going to sleep at this time at home, but unsurprisingly finds he can't settle. The mattress is hard and bumpy, with only the thinest sheet covering him. So much for what he'd heard about prisoners being surrounding with Playstations, widescreen tvs, and the full furnishings. This is as basic as it gets.
Worst of all is the fact that he's constantly aware of the other men in the hallway. Even being woken up by a screaming child is better than this. At least it's his child, not a complete stranger, a criminal. It's not silent for more than a minute before laughter and the sound of shouting fills his ears, like a never ending attack. The laughter's high pitched, manic, the screaming somehow devoid of any hope.
His mind wanders to what these men have done. He's sure some are like him, brought in for shoplifting and petty crimes, but what about the others? There are people here who are murderers, rapists, paedophiles. He doesn't belong here.
And he hasn't even met his cellmate. He asked one of the nicer officers who he was going to be sharing with. "He's not here yet. Going to be transferred from another floor tomorrow."
Ste can count on one hand how many friends he's ever had. Amy's more or less been a constant. Even through the hard times she was still willing to give him a chance. There was a friendship with a lad Justin for a while, which mainly consisted of them eating pizza, watching cartoons and getting drunk together, but it was still something.
Two friends. Two. And that's meant to prepare him for sharing a cell with someone day after day? Of having to pee in a bucket in front of them? Making small talk, and possibly trying to avoid getting beat up by them? Fuck that. This whole thing is crazy.
He gets a sharp rap on his door, a booming "Breakfast," from the guard. But it can't be breakfast, he hasn't slept a single minute. He's not ready for this, for what's waiting for him when he gets out of his bed.
He doesn't have a choice in this though, and it's not long before his door is opened, a guard staring down at him, telling him "you may be new here, but you need to learn the routine. Fast."
He's escorted out of his cell by a burly police officer. It's then that Ste dares to take his first proper glance at the other prisoners. He'd arrived late the night before, the place shrouded in darkness, and he was partly able to convince himself that he was having a nightmare. Now there is nowhere to hide, and he looks quickly out of the corner of his eye into each cell that he passes.
Some of the men catch him looking and stare back, their eyes drinking him in. Some aren't what Ste expected. A few look like weedy little boys, almost younger than him, and he can't imagine what they might have done to get in a place like this. Others are old, look in their sixties or seventies, and he feels relieved that it doesn't look like they could take him in a fight.
A few pull faces though, faces of intimidation and aggression when they see his gaze meet theirs. One pretends to lunge forward, and laughs when Ste flinches. The officer ignores it completely, and Ste guesses he's used to this, used to fresh blood being targeted relentlessly.
He's shocked when one prisoner smiles at him. He looks about Ste's age, with bright blue eyes, and possibly the bushiest eyebrows he's ever seen. He has a kind face, and Ste reckons that's rare in this place, and he risks smiling back, grateful for something that feels close to normal interaction for the first time since he arrived.
Ste's not used to a five star all you can eat buffet at home. A few chicken nuggets or a takeaway from the fish and chip shop will usually do him just fine. Even so, prison food's a bit of a shock.
As he arrived on a Friday he's here for what appears to be a special weekend fry up, and the other prisoners flock to where the eggs, bacon and fried toast are being served up. Ste stands in line, but then catches a glimpse at the food lying in trays, and suddenly doesn't feel so hungry. The eggs look like they've been stored there for days, dried up, barely even yellow anymore. The bacon's not much better, so hard it looks like you could use it as a weapon. Ste wonders if that's the attraction.
He knows he has to eat something though, that he's hardly going to come out still standing if someone tries to mess with him, not if he loses any weight. He decides to settle for some porridge instead, has heard Amy tell the kids often enough to "eat up, it's good for you, it'll keep you full till lunch", like she's the voiceover for some kind of healthy living advert.
When it's put into his bowl he can actually hear the impact, and it sticks so much to the spoon that it takes a good few minutes before he has a decent sized portion. He's starting to wonder if Oliver Twist was an idiot for asking for more.
Deciding where to sit reminds him of being at school, with all the endless stupid cliques. He can already tell that the men are separated into groups, and tries to look for a table where it doesn't look like he'll be eaten alive.
The place is packed, and Ste bumps into someone, almost spilling his breakfast.
"Sorry," he mumbles, thinking that's just what I need, to piss off some murderer on my first day here.
He looks into the eyes of a guy with dark hair and a baby face.
"Don't worry about it, kid," he replies earnestly.
Ste breathes a sigh of relief, thinking that's it, he's escaped, but when he turns to leave the guy touches his arm.
"You're new here, right? I haven't seen you around before."
Ste's surprised that anyone notices who's new when there's so many prisoners here, but then he realises with sinking dread that when you're trapped in a place for months, even years, then the faces around you become as familiar as your own.
"Yeah. Just came here yesterday."
The guy holds his hand out. Ste's surprised, didn't thing that something like manners would even exist here. He's quick to return it, holding his tray awkwardly so he doesn't drop it.
"I'm Ethan."
"Ste."
"You're from Manchester, right? I recognise that accent."
"Yeah."
"That'll work in your favour round these parts."
Ste frowns. "How do you mean?"
"Posh ones never fit in well here. They just get the piss taken out of them."
"Oh." Ste's not sure whether to be offended or not by the fact that he isn't posh. Ethan's hardly what he'd call common, but Ste doesn't see any bruises on him.
"Anyway, do you want to sit with us?" Ethan nods over to a table.
Ste looks at what the us consists of. The table is only occupied by one person so far. Mr blue eyed, bushy eyebrows.
"Yeah, okay. Thanks," he says, remembering how Ethan's friend had smiled at him.
They approach the table with their trays, and Ste sits opposite the boy.
"This is Ste. He's new here - thought I'd bring him over before someone corrupted him," Ethan explains to the boy. Ste wonders what exactly he means by corrupted, but doesn't dare ask.
"Good idea," the boy says with a wink, and Ste hears a strong American accent coming through.
"I'm Doug by the way," he continues, and again he holds out his hand for Ste to shake. Is everyone so damn civilised in this place?
The question lingers at the back of Ste's mind. What are these people in for? They seem polite, nice even. His heart leaps when he wonders if there's a chance that they've been wrongfully convicted, if the place is crawling with innocent men, and it'll be like staying at some kind of all male holiday camp, albeit one where he's locked up and force fed gruel.
Then he remembers young offenders, and how he was surrounded by a group of lads who would proclaim their innocence, when Ste knew damn well that they'd done it, could tell just by listening to their bullshit stories and seeing the way they acted.
Doug and Ethan don't look like murderers though, although he's not quite sure what a murderer should look like. But these two look like children in adults bodies.
He's unnerved when they seem to read his mind.
"So, what are you in for?" Ethan asks, like they're casually making conversation about the weather.
"Uh...is it important?"
"Around here, yeah," he says soberly. "And people always find out sooner or later. Especially if someones been splashed all over the news. I haven't seen your face though. So that rules out paedo or mass murderer."
Ste's eyes widen, wondering how they can be talking about this so calmly.
"Of course I'm not a...I'm not either of those things!"
"Like I said, I know you're not mate. I wouldn't have invited you over if you were. Don't really need the trouble, you know what I mean?"
Ste's not dumb enough to not know what they do to those sort of criminals in prison.
"What Ethan's trying to say," Doug butts in, looking apologetic, "Is that it can be a nightmare for people like that in here. You don't want to know the things we've seen."
"Right," Ste swallows, thinking that these are people who he now lives with. One of those people could be who he shares a cell with.
"So what did you do?" Ethan questions.
"Stop being so nosy!" Doug chastens, and Ste can tell how close they are, the easy back and forth, the lack of fear between them.
"No, it's alright," Ste says, knowing that he'll have to reveal it sometime. "I got done for shoplifting."
Ethan rolls his eyes, as if the excitement and scandal he was expecting hasn't materialised. "Is that all? God, that's nothing. I'm surprised you even got a sentence for it."
"Well it had been going on for quite a while. And I'd been to young offenders before for joyriding." Ste's not quite sure why he feels the need to big up his criminal record.
"People like you always used to annoy me. Time wasters when we could be dealing with actual serious crimes."
Ste holds his spoon mid air, wondering if he's missed a step.
"Just ignore him Ste, he does this with everyone," Doug says wryly, staring at Ethan with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.
"I don't..." I don't understand.
"He's a copper," Doug explains. "Or used to be, obviously. He got done for a hit and run, and now his job consists of lecturing us all about the importance of obeying the law. Hypocrite, is what he is."
Ethan elbows him in the ribs, and Doug laughs. Ste stares between them, flabbergasted.
"You're a..." He's basically sitting with the enemy.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to arrest you or something! I'm not a spy for the other side."
Yes, because spies always reveal the fact that they're spies.
"I can vouch for that fact. We share a cell," Doug adds.
"Right." Suddenly the porridge which was at least half edible is making Ste want to be sick. "And..." he turns to Doug. "What did you do?"
Doug looks down at his plate, and Ste can see the shame there. It shocks him, seeing such raw guilt.
"Drugs...I dealt them to a girl...a friend. She died. Her name was Charlotte," he says quietly, as if saying her name makes her a person, a once real, living, breathing person. It's a way of taking responsibility, Ste realises. He can't help but admire him for it. He's not innocent in that respect himself, once bringing drugs into the flat with Leah and Lucas there.
"We all make mistakes, don't we?" Ste murmurs. "Sometimes massive ones. But sometimes you just have to forgive yourself."
Doug looks at him, his blue eyes shining, and smiles at Ste softly, his expression one of pure gratitude.
"Aw, look at you two bonding," Ethan says tweely. "As long as you don't take my best friend away from me, Ste."
"Why would you care? You'll always have me," a voice growls from behind them.
Ste nearly jumps, registering the bulk of the man before him, his broad shoulders and large, puffed out chest. He looks in his thirties, masculine, butch, and Ste can barely believe his eyes when he sits down next to Ethan and starts stroking his face.
He looks around the room, wondering if anyone's staring at the very obvious fact that these two are together, that they look one second away from fucking in the dining hall from the way the older guy's looking at Ethan.
Doug merely continues eating his breakfast, eyes downcast, like he sees this everyday.
"You know what I meant, Warren," Ethan says, gently dislodging his hand from his face.
"For your sake I hope I do." Ste doesn't think he imagines the hint of a real threat there.
In his shock Ste drops his spoon, and he bends down to pick it up. Under the table he blinks, taking in the sight before him. Warren stroking Ethan's thigh, his hand moving increasingly close to there.
He pretends he hasn't seen anything, and emerges. The disturbance has alerted Warren's attention to him though, and his eyes travel over Ste's face. The look feels to last an age, lingering.
"Who's this little twink, then?" He questions, and Ste almost prays that no one answers him.
"Ste," Ethan says. "In for shoplifting apparently."
Warren, like his apparent boyfriend, looks disappointed.
"What's the matter boy, cat got your tongue?" Warren says slowly to him, giving him a once over again.
"Leave him alone, Warren," Doug says, and Ste has to stop himself from mouthing thank you over the table.
"Alright Yankee, I was just getting to know the new boy! No harm done, is there? I think you need to tell your friend to calm down, Ethan."
Ethan looks between the two of them nervously, and Ste feels the atmosphere immediately shift, almost like there's a sudden chill.
"He's only playing around," Ethan says to Warren, laughing uncomfortably.
Warren stares at Doug a moment, and now Ste knows what's meant by if looks could kill. He then turns his attentions back on Ste.
"You're a skinny one, aren't you?"
Ste doesn't know what to say to that. Part of him wants to tell Warren to fuck off, but he knows that's not going to get him anywhere.
"Who's he sharing with?" He says, turning to Ethan.
Ethan glances between Ste and Warren, and then leans over and whispers in Warren's ear. Warren immediately lets out a booming laugh.
"How convenient. This should be fun. Good luck," he directs at Ste.
Ste opens his mouth to ask what's so funny, to ask who the hell he's going to share with, and if they're about to stamp on him like a cockroach. But Warren turns back to Ethan before he has the chance, and says, bold as brass "You done here? Because I thought we could go back to your cell while the Yank's eating." His intentions are crystal clear, and Ste's pretty sure that his hand has moved up Ethan's thigh considerably now.
"Sure," Ethan says faster than lightning, standing up. "See you later, Doug. Ste."
Warren grins at him, and it reminds Ste of a hyena before it devours its prey. "See you around, kid."
Once they're gone Ste lets out a breath that he hadn't even known he'd been holding. He turns to Doug, and finds his face more or less at eye level with his breakfast, looking like he's trying to reduce himself to the smallest size possible.
"Are they..."
"Together? Yep," Doug nods, sounding anything but enamoured by this fact.
"And they don't try and hide it or anything?" Ste's never seen anything like it. He never had that growing up on a council estate, and he definitely wasn't expecting it in prison. Of course he'd heard stories of men raping each other, but to choose to be with a guy in young offenders was unheard of.
"That's the whole point, isn't it?"
Ste frowns, staring at Doug curiously.
Doug looks around them, then lowers his voice. "Can you keep a secret? I wouldn't usually tell someone this after knowing them for less than an hour. But you...I don't know, you seem like a nice guy."
Ste nods eagerly, seeing his chance to fit in, to be a part of something, and taking it. He leans in closer to Doug.
"Ethan's not exactly with him because he wants to be."
"I don't get it. He just shot out of the place when Warren asked him to."
"Yeah, because you don't go against someone like Warren Fox. He instructs, you follow."
"I don't understand."
Doug lowers his voice even further. "Me and Ethan came in here about the same time. You've seen the way people are with him - does it seem like he's been harassed to you so far?"
"No," Ste says, thinking of the way he and Ethan had gone to the table virtually unnoticed.
"Exactly. He's an ex copper, Ste. He used to arrest guys who are in here. Don't you think it's a bit weird that he's not having the shit beat out of him? Excuse my language."
"Well yeah, now you mention it..."
"It's because of Warren. All of it. He was here when me and Ethan first arrived. Lets just say he took an immediate shine to him."
"Why?" Ste finds it hard to believe that someone like Warren would even be gay, let alone would want to go out with a policeman.
"To be honest, I don't really want to think about the way his mind works. All I know is that he started harassing Ethan from the moment he met him. All but shoving his penis in his face. Again - sorry about the crudeness."
Ste waves the apology away with his hand, starting to wonder if Doug was a choir boy in a former life.
"Ethan resisted for months of course. I mean the guy had a girlfriend before he came in here. From what he's told me he's never had those kind of feelings."
"Maybe he's lying," Ste says, trying to make sense of it. "I mean if he can do that with another guy..."
"He was getting beat up really badly, Ste. Day in, day out. It was never ending, and he spent most of his first weeks here in the hospital wing. He had one of his teeth knocked out."
Ste shudders. "So it was for protection?"
"Exactly that. Warren's one of the guys who owns this place. Everyone does what he says. No one messes with him. So he and Ethan made a deal of sorts."
Ste can already guess what this deal consists of. "Do they actually...do everything?"
Doug turns pale. "I don't really like to ask for details, but yes. Everything."
It makes Ste feel sick. He was wrong when he thought it was consensual.
"But doesn't Warren realise that he's straight?"
"Of course, but he doesn't care," Doug says, playing with the food on his plate. "He's getting his cock sucked - what does it matter to him? Again, sorry for the -"
"Stop apologising Doug, I grew up on a bloody council estate," he says sharply, and Doug laughs.
"Okay then. Anyway, as you could probably tell I can't stand the guy. He's a thug, but he's the reason that Ethan's alive right now, so it's not like I can do anything."
Ste shakes his head, unable to believe what he's hearing. He feels a long way from Hollyoaks now.
"What about you? You don't get hurt for hanging around Ethan, do you?" He surveys Doug's face for any bruises or cuts.
"No, the same rules apply. I'm under Warren's guard." He snorts.
Another thought occurs to Ste, something that he'd forgotten in all this madness.
"Doug, why was Warren laughing before? At hearing who my cellmate is, I mean. I don't even know who he'll be yet."
"Oh, right." Doug fidgets uncomfortably, suddenly avoiding Ste's eyes. "It's no big deal."
"Tell that to your face."
Doug continues to squirm. "News spreads around here pretty fast. People have already heard who you'll be sharing with."
This is it. The time when Ste finds out whether he'll be sleeping at night with a psycho.
"Please just tell me. I'll feel better once I know." Although part of him is beginning to doubt that.
"You really want to know?" Doug questions.
Oh fuck. This must be really, really bad.
Ste nods, everything inside him screaming no.
"His name's Brendan Brady. Heard of him?"
Ste shakes his head, wondering whether he should be relieved that he hasn't.
"He was in the papers a few years back. Front page news."
"I don't really read newspapers. Or watch the news," Ste admits, feeling embarrassed when there's something about Doug that has educated written all over it.
"He uh..." Doug sighs. "There's no easy way to put this, Ste. He killed someone. He has a life sentence."
Ste feels like he's about to throw up his porridge. He clutches his stomach and leans over the table, wondering when the retching will start.
"Shit. Are you okay?" Doug asks concernedly, holding his arm.
"He...he killed someone?" Ste stutters.
"Yes."
"Who?" Not that it really matters after what he's just learnt, but he imagines this Brendan murdering an old lady, a child, someone Leah or Lucas's age.
"His dad."
Ste baulks, can't take this in. His own father? Ste hates Terry, and had days when he would imagine scenarios where he killed him in the most brutal fashion, but to actually go through with it?
"He has some anger issues. As you'll see when you meet him. He moved up a floor when he attacked one of the guards."
Ste pleads with him silently, stop, please stop, are you trying to kill me? He'd wanted to know, but this is too much.
"This guard...how badly did he hurt him?" Like a masochist, he can't help but ask.
"Er...I'm not sure you want to know."
Ste lets out a groan. "Great. Out of all the people I could of been put with, and they choose him for me? I've just done a bit of shoplifting, I don't deserve to get stuck with a murderer who killed his own family!"
"Maybe they think you'll be a calming influence on him," Doug trails off pathetically.
"Yeah, or they're trying to finish me off."
"Look Ste, I'm sure you'll be okay. You're only here for a few months, right? That's nothing. Brendan's here for the rest of his life. It's not like you have to worry about him coming after you or something if you piss him off."
Shit. Ste hadn't even considered that.
Doug seems to know he's said the wrong thing. "Maybe I should just stop talking now."
"No," Ste says, despite his heaving stomach. Doug's been honest with him, and he can't hate him for that. "Thank you for telling me. I needed to know. I'm guessing he's another one of the guys who rules this place, right?"
"There are three of them. Him, Warren and Walker. You'll meet him too before long."
"I can hardly wait."
"You'll be fine, Ste." He's surprised by the tone of confidence in Doug's voice.
"How do you know?"
"Because of the way you look," he says bluntly. "You're every prisoners dream."
Ste laughs, thinks Doug's having him on. "Me? Are you feeling alright, Doug?"
"I'm serious. You're skinny, tanned, cute. I'm not into guys, but if I was you'd totally be on my list." He gives Ste another wink, and he wonders if it's a trademark thing.
"Thanks, but I really doubt I'm going to be on anyone else's list. I'm really not..."
"Gay?"
Ste's surprised by his directness. "No, 'course not! I've got my kids at home, and I've been with girls before."
"Yes, because no one who's gay has ever had kids before," Doug teases him.
"Well I'm different," he says defensively.
He doesn't tell Doug about the first guy he'd ever liked when he was a teenager. A boy in young offenders, Callum. Ste couldn't stand him at first, the way he thought he was better than everyone else just because he'd once been at a posh boarding school. Lot of good that did him in there. But after being stuck there for months, he'd realised that first impressions weren't always correct. He still remembers the smell of Callum, the goofy smile he had. Ste had used any excuse to get close to him, had suggested fucking wrestling matches just so he could touch him.
It hadn't been the same with the guys he'd spent the night with since then. He'd met them on the rare occasions when he'd had enough money to scrape together for a few drinks at a club. He didn't exactly go there planning on having a drunken fumble in the toilets. It felt seedy, his body pressed up against a cubicle, a condom hurriedly ripped from its packet, Ste muffling his groans.
When he got a girlfriend, Rae, all that had stopped. He barely managed to hang onto her more than a few weeks, her tiring of him spending all his money on the kids and Amy, and not being able to afford to take her out for meals. But it reassured him, the fact that he still enjoyed sleeping with a girl. It meant he couldn't be gay.
"Fair enough. Although I don't think some people are going to take no for an answer."
Ste's eyes widen.
"Relax, I'm only joking! Brendan and Walker aren't like Warren. Not in that way."
He wonders in what other ways they're similar, if he even wants to know.
After breakfast Ste and Doug wave goodbye as they're locked in their cells again. Ste suddenly appreciates the solitude, knowing how precious this will seem soon, having the room to himself.
While he takes a piss in the bucket he checks the small glass screen on his door. He hasn't lost his dignity yet, not even close, and the thought of a guard watching as he pees isn't appealing.
He lies back on his bed shivering, wishing he was at home and could crawl underneath a duvet, Amy curling beside him, cups of hot tea warming their hands. He's trying not to hope for any visits from her, not after what he did, and the way she had looked at him. He misses her already though. They were in this together, in life together, them against the world. He hopes she's not telling the kids about what he's done, that her desire to protect them is stronger than her anger at him.
Ste thinks about what he has to face later today. A murderer moving into his cell.
Brendan Brady. He imagines someone with Warren's build, possibly bigger. A man older than him, stronger. Ste can only imagine what it's like to know you're going to be behind bars for life. The fact that Brendan's got nothing to lose terrifies him. He has no reason not to attack Ste, and he finds it difficult to believe Doug's words that he'll be fine, when nothing about this is.
Maybe if he just keeps his head down, pretends that he's not afraid, then he'll survive in this place. At least he's got Doug now, and he's guessing his association with Ethan and Warren will mean that he's off anyones hit list.
Part of him just wants to sleep, remembers this feeling from years ago. Everything had come out about what he'd done to Amy, and he'd had Mike Barnes in his face, shouting at him, punching him, asking him "how could you do that to my daughter?" Ste had got drunk, wanted to drown the pain out. He'd climbed on some scaffolding, wanted to look down at the ground and be in control for once, wanted to feel like he could fly. He doesn't remember consciously wanting to die, but when he fell and broke his leg he'd thought it fleetingly. I just don't want to wake up.
But there's no time for him to close his eyes. It feels like he's only been locked in his cell for a minute before the door's opened again, and he has a meeting with the prisoner governor. He wonders if it's possible that he's done something wrong in his short time here already.
He's led to a rather nondescript office which looks like it could do with a new coat of paint. Ste sits down on a hard chair and nervously stares at the man sitting before him, knowing that he has to be on his best behaviour.
"Hello Ste. Thanks for coming."
Ste's surprised by the politeness of his tone, by the smile he gives him. He tries to relax and return it, wondering if this is some kind of trap, or a way of easing him in before he's plunged through a trapdoor.
The guy look like he's in his mid thirties, and has a small but noticeable scar across his forehead. Ste hopes that it's something he got at an early age, maybe from falling in the playground, rather than obtained through a fight with someone like Brendan.
"This is your first day here?"
"Yes," Ste says, clearing his throat.
"How are you settling in?"
Ste wasn't expecting all these questions, questions which are unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, questions which the governor has no reason to want to know.
"Er...it's okay." As okay as it can be when he's being held against his will.
"Good. I know it's bound to be a shock at first. It is for everyone, even people who have transferred from other prisons. Getting to know new people, and learning the routine - it's a lot to get used to. But we're here to help you."
Ste wonders if Doug still deals drugs to some of the staff members here. Why the hell does someone like him care how he feels?
"Thanks," he mumbles, not knowing what he can possibly add to that.
The governor nods in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself - I'm Tony Hutchinton. I've been working here for six years now."
Six years. It's not a life sentence, but it sounds like one.
"Anything you need, you can come to me. Of course I'm busy a lot of the day, but if it's important then I'll do my best to find the time."
"Right."
"You'll be introduced to our courses in the next few days. You're probably used to this from young offenders, but there are a lot of things you can do here. People can retake their exams, or do some work in the gardens or help out at meal times. It's a good way to earn some extra money and privileges, and make the most of your talents."
Talents. Perhaps if there was a course on shoplifting, although Ste couldn't even get that right. He's never been any good at languages or maths or science. He's even worse at English, and memories of his short time at school flood back to him, the teachers thinking he was stupid, lazy, and him giving up trying to explain to them that the words all looked wrong and jumbled. He can't imagine working in the garden, the image of him lifting a giant pair of sheers almost laughable.
"Thanks for meeting with me, Ste. I appreciate it," Tony says, as if Ste's done him a favour, as if he was in the middle of something extremely important in his cell.
"No problem..."
He realises that he does this for all prisoners. It's like a well oiled routine, and Ste reminds himself not to think that this guy is being kind to him, that Tony probably thinks it's only a matter of time before he misbehaves and he can give him another, far less friendly talk.
Ste's led back to his cell, and he almost wishes he could have stayed in the office. He's immediately faced with the shouting and laughter again. The sheer noise of prison overwhelms him.
He's been gone less than twenty minutes, but when he comes back he finds the entrance to his cell is being blocked. One of the coppers stands in front of his door, and Ste recognises him as a bastard from before, who'd teased him about his skinny frame when he'd first arrived. He smirks now when he sees Ste.
"Alright, weedy? Good news. Your cellmate's arrived."
Ste gulps, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin.
The copper just stands there and laughs. "Have fun, you two."
He walks off with the prison officer who was escorting Ste, and he firmly hopes that he has a nasty fall down the stairs.
Ste turns back towards his cell. This is it.
Taking a deep breath, he steps closer towards the door, ready to meet Brendan Brady.