Chapter 7

Callen woke with a start. A low grating noise had disturbed his sleep and he raised his head towards the only possible source of the noise; his cell door. Two dark shapes moved quickly to his bed and a hand covered his mouth and nose before he could shout for help. Instinctively Callen struggled, raising his hands to his face, trying to force away the strange hands that were suffocating him. The other person now snatched at Callen's arms and pinned them behind his back, so he kicked his legs violently, hoping to make contact with one of his attackers. The world was rapidly turning black and Callen fleetingly thought it was fitting that he would die in a prison cell. The hands killing him suddenly let go and he gasped for air. He breathed in deeply and filled his lungs, rocking forwards until the pressure on his shoulders became worse than his need to breathe. The man behind him let go of his arms and both Pollack and Wells filled his vision. Wells sat himself half way up Callen's bed and Callen was reminded of Joe's warning that Wells had a liking for boys. Callen inched way from him in to the top corner of his bed.

"You've made a serious complaint about abuse and neglect. You've accused Southgate, Mr Jessop and Officer Brown of murdering Southerby and we're not having it." Pollack was standing over Callen and Wells, his six foot three frame every bit as intimidating as he intended.

Callen tensed himself ready for a punch, probably to the ribs where the damage would be hidden. That type of abuse he could handle, it was the close proximity of Wells that terrified him.

"I don't think you learned your lesson from your first day. Now the bruises have healed, you've forgotten who's in charge. It's not snivelling little fuckers like you or Southerby or jumped up bullies like Bramell," Pollack was referring to Matty B and his gang. "It's me, Wells and Brown. In class it's Jessop. We keep you and your lies away from McKenzie and from damaging the service we provide to the community by keeping you bastards locked up."

"We don't neglect or abuse," Wells continued, explaining in a calm and patronising voice, as though Callen were a young child. "We have strict rules and we discipline those who refuse to toe the line. And every single prisoner is here because they can't toe the line. You reap what you sow Callen." Wells placed his hand on Callen's ankle causing him to flinch. He tightened his grip, before letting go to rub the inside of Callen's ankle with his finger tips. "You're vulnerable Callen and there won't always be a pretty little social worker you can suck in with those big blue eyes of yours. Y'know accidents do happen in here...but then maybe someone will comfort you, give you a bit of love - something that's clearly been missing from your miserable, worthless life..."

Wells patted Callen's foot and stood up and Callen quickly moved his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Wells could tell his words had the desired effect and he smiled, nodding his head. Callen for once had remained silent - no sarcastic remark or smart-ass comment. Even in the dimmed light of the cell, Wells could see that Callen had visibly paled.

"You're going to withdraw your allegations, say you were lying to get attention, or whatever crap you liars make up, otherwise I'll show you what real abuse and neglect is. Don't make me come back and visit you..." Pollack warned, leading Wells to the cell door. "Next time I won't be as understanding, but Wells will be here to comfort you some. Sweet dreams, now..."

The door clanged shut, the noise reverberating in the still of the night. Callen barely allowed himself to breathe and he could feel himself shaking uncontrollably through fear. He told himself to breathe normally and to stop shaking, but his thoughts had little effect. Tears began to well at the corners of his eyes and Callen angrily wiped them away before they fell. He was not going to let the bastards of Southgate win. He refused to let them break him. Callen held his right hand out in front of him, willing it to remain steady. By focusing all his attention of his hand, he momentarily blanked the night visit from his mind and after several minutes, his hand stopped shaking. It was a hollow victory of mind over matter that quickly disappeared as Callen's thoughts drifted back to Pollack and Wells' threats. He closed his eyes, knowing he could sleep sitting up - but visions of Wells filled the darkness. Callen opened his eyes again quickly and grabbed his blanket, pulling it round him until it was tight around his neck, as though it would protect him from further harm. Callen remained in the same position until the first light of morning, pressed into the corner of his bed, eyes focused on the door to his cell, petrified that Wells might pay him a visit without Pollack for company.

The following morning, Callen was one of the first to breakfast and sat at a table in the far corner. His plan to remain anonymous for breakfast and hopefully for the rest of the day, was short lived when Joe decided to join him.

"You look like shit," Joe said with a mouthful of food.

Callen looked up at him for a moment and then back down at his plate.

"You OK?" Joe asked, a puzzled look in his eyes. He was already familiar with Callen's moods, which in all honesty were no different to most of the other kids at Southgate. He lowered his spoon which was already loaded with his next mouthful of cereal. "Did something happen?"

Callen shrugged, and placed his fingers round his glass of orange juice, gently swirling it round. "Yeah," he said. He pushed the glass away, causing the juice to spill over and raked his fingers through his hair. "They came to see me last night."

Joe's eyes widened slightly. No further explanation was required as to who 'they' were. "What happened?"

"After Jake, I had to go see the director so they could tell me I didn't kill him and then they offered me counselling. Y'know cause clearly finding Jake has fucked me up so much more than all the other shit in my life." Callen picked up the spoon to his cereal and started fiddling with it, distracting and distancing himself from the words he was uttering. "Y'know they beat me pretty bad before they put me in that isolation cell..they pissed me off and killed Jake...So I accused them of abuse and murder."

Callen stopped and stared at Joe who was now leaning back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Are you fucking crazy?" He asked. "No, I already knew you were crazy but that was just fucking stupid. Jake killed himself. Why the hell would you say that?"

"I got kinda angry," Callen replied. In retrospect, it had been a very stupid thing to do, to try and whistle blow on abuse whilst he was still at Southgate. "But Jessop did make Jake kill himself and Pollack and Brown gave me a beating before they threw me in solitary. My social worker was there so I thought she would back me up."

"You need to sort your temper out before someone sorts you out for good," Joe said.

Callen rolled his eyes and looked to his left. He knew Joe was making sense. He should have kept his temper in check and his mouth shut. But then if he didn't speak up, who would?

"Did she?" Joe asked.

"Did she what?"

"Your social worker, did she back you up?"

"Yeah, well I think so. She said she would make sure my accusations were investigated."

"Hmm," Joe started eating again and Callen could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. "So you had a visit to tell you to keep your mouth shut."

"Pretty much, tell them everything I said was a lie...or else..."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Fuck me you're hard work today Callen, it's normally me with the shit for brains," Joe smiled to make sure Callen understood there was no malice to his remarks.

"I sorta made myself stay awake after they threatened me, just in case."

"So," pressed Joe. "What are you going to do?"

Callen shrugged again. "They all think I'm a liar anyway, so I'll lie and tell them what they want to hear."

"What about your social worker?"

"I reckon she knows I was telling the truth but the COs and the director will just overrule her."

"Maybe Wil Emmerson can back you up. I mean he was beaten yesterday?"

"No way," Callen said vehemently. "It's my battle. Anyway, Wil can owe me one for keeping him out of it,"

"But he doesn't even know he could be in it," Joe looked confused, unsure where Callen was going.

"If I keep his name out of this crap, then I'm doing him a favour and then he'll owe me one."

"Owe you one what?"

"I thought you said I had shit for brains?" Callen suddenly smiled at Joe. His blue eyes lit up and he momentarily forgot about the mess he was in. "You do know Emmerson can get anything in here; drugs, smokes, knives, screwdrivers, blades..."

"Wwwhat?" Joe stammered, his eyes widening in surprise. As far as he knew, Callen had not touched any contraband whilst at Southgate and the three of the five items he'd mentioned were weapons.

"I don't have to use them, stupid. I can use them to trade, or threaten, or set someone up."

"Sounds like you're pretty clued up." Joe hadn't considered that the weapons could be used for anything other than direct violence.

"I've been around," Callen shrugged. He knew he could use the weapons if he really had to defend himself. On the outside, he had always used his fists and knew how to beat his opponents by fighting dirty. He didn't always win but he usually inflicted damage to the other person. Setting up someone by planting weapons or drugs on them would be a dangerous but exciting challenge, and an idea which Callen would park until such time as it was needed.

"You gonna eat that?" Joe asked, pointed at Callen's untouched cereal with his spoon.

Callen pushed the bowl towards Joe and instead reached for his juice. No matter how much bravado he had just displayed in front of Joe, the previous night's visit had seriously shaken him up and he had no appetite.

Joe grabbed the bowl and dug his spoon in, glancing at Callen as he did. He knew Callen could clearly take care of himself but he was starting to get worried. He was talking about weapons and drugs, which was fine if he didn't get caught with them. But if Callen didn't start to use his brains properly and control his temper, he would end up crossing the wrong person, either in Southgate or on the outside. One way or another, Joe reckoned Callen was headed to an early grave and would probably be dead before he turned twenty-one. If he wasn't, he would be back in prison.

Ten minutes later, before class started, Callen was summoned to McKenzie's office, escorted by Wells. Before Wells knocked on the door to announce their arrival he pushed Callen up against the wall and brought his face up close to Callen's.

"Remember what we said last night? You made everything up 'coz you're a liar and a troublemaker. There's nothing to investigate...unless of course you'd enjoy some night time visits?"

Callen stared at a spot on the wall to the left of Wells, willing him to get out of his face but Wells stayed firm. He wasn't going to move until he'd had reassurance from Callen that he was going to play ball.

"OK," Callen said forcefully, trying to sound braver than he felt. He struggled to push past Wells to reach the relative safety of the director's office, but Wells remained a solid force in front of Callen. He tried again, this time squeezing past Wells who smiled as they made body contact, then swiftly moved away and knocked on the office door.

"Enter," commanded Director McKenzie.

The two entered the room. Present were the director, Callen's social worker and a man he had not yet met. The stranger was dressed in a tweed jacket with dark slacks and brown loafers. He looked to be in his fifties, with greying hair and thick spectacles. Callen guessed he was the psychiatrist with whom he should have been having weekly therapy sessions.

"Thank you Wells," McKenzie dismissed the Correction Officer, who shot a warning glance at Callen before exiting the room. "Callen this is Mr Woodley, he's the psychiatrist here at Southgate and he'll be counselling you after Southerby's death."

Callen looked at the shrink and then back to McKenzie. So far, he was not impressed.

"Excuse me," Lorna Williams spoke. "But are you telling me that after almost three weeks Callen hasn't attended any therapy sessions?" The shock and confusion was evident in her face.

"Miss Williams," Director McKenzie spoke patronisingly. "Callen started a fight with two inmates on his first day and then attacked the officers who broke up the fight. His punishment was a week in the isolation unit. Since then he's been a permanent disruptive force in class and then of course there was his involvement in the unfortunate death of Southerby. Therapy sessions as such have not been at the forefront of our minds, Miss Williams, not for this boy until today."

Callen glared at the director. The little white lies which had trickled out of McKenzie's mouth were almost believable. The only reason all three were in this room at this very moment was down to his accusations, not because they were concerned about his mental health.

"Callen has been summoned here as I've been told he has a further statement to make about event leading to Southerby's death..." McKenzie continued.

"Suicide," Callen corrected, muttering under his breath. If he wasn't careful he would lose his temper. "Suicide," he spoke louder now. "Southerby killed himself, that's the only truth. Everything else is a lie."

"What do you mean?" Miss Williams asked.

"I made it all up," Callen looked defiantly at his social worker, daring her to contradict his statement.

"What? Why?" Miss Williams was confused and at her words Callen raised his head sharply to face her.

Lorna Williams had repeatedly asked Callen to voice his complaints about poor treatment and abuse in foster care and she had re-emphasised the point during their conversation on his first day at Southgate. As with most of the children she encountered in her job, she knew the truth would often be exaggerated or exploited, particularly by those seeking revenge or attention. She had even caught Callen out when he lied about one of his foster families. However she believed she could see through Callen's bravado, particularly during his intake meeting with her. He had let his guard down ever so slightly and she had caught a glimpse of the vulnerable fifteen year old.

Callen remained facing his social worker and then in turn, focused his gaze on the psychiatrist and the director. Content he owned the room at that precise moment, Callen spoke clearly and confidently.

"I lied that Jessop bullied Southerby in class. Jessop treated Jake the same as he treats everyone else. Pollack and Wells were guarding the entrance to the cells like normal and I had to trick my way past them. And Brown did call 911 straight away and he was first in the showers and he tried to save Jake's life."

"Callen?" Miss Williams challenged. The initial accusations were too serious and passionate to have been made up, she was convinced of that. She had heard rumours about the poor standards of Southgate but never first hand. She was also well aware that despite investigations, nothing had ever been substantiated. It was one reason why she insisted on remaining as involved with her social charges as possible. She was sure that Callen was lying now and not the previous night.

"What did you mean last night when you said you'd been assaulted too? Did you mean your arresting officers, or the ones in here?"

Callen looked down at his hands, assuming the guilty look of a liar who had been caught out. "I was mad at everyone. I just made you think it happened here. I didn't mean anything I said yesterday, I was just confused and angry." He looked up at Miss Williams, widening his blue eyes in innocence, adding softly. "If you want proof, I can take my sweater and trousers off so you can see there's no bruising as I haven't been beaten."

Callen was taking a slight gamble by offering to strip, knowing he had a few bruises on his upper arms and chest that had not yet faded, however he would have bet a lot of Wil Emmerson's money, that his social worker would not take him up on his offer.

"Do you now see the challenges we face here?" McKenzie asked Lorna Williams and Mr Woodley. "Callen is by no means the worst youth here but he is currently the one causing the most trouble with his lies and his fighting."

"Callen, why did you feel the need to lie about such serious issues?" Woodley spoke for the first time.

Callen shrugged. "Brown and Pollack got me sent to solitary and I wanted to get back at them. I thought I could get them fired. Jessup made me look stupid in front of the class and I wanted revenge."

Callen stared at Woodley and Williams, daring then to contradict or to challenge his words. When neither spoke Callen realised that his lies must be more believable than the truth, a result of his past behaviour, like the boy who cried wolf.

McKenzie shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Callen, you will address your superiors correctly as Officer Pollack, Mr Jessop and so on. I've reviewed your daily academic reports Callen, and you seem to be more than capable of making yourself look stupid. Your first day in class and you wrote nothing more than your name. You've improved a little since then, so whatever actions Mr Jessop took to resolve your attitude from your first class, has actually started to work. Maybe if you actually made more of an effort, Mr Jessop would ease up the pressure on you."

Williams shook her head in confusion. This was the first she had heard of Callen's failings in class and McKenzie's words did make sense to a certain extent. She had not met Mr Jessop or sat in on the class as an observer and that was an action she would ensure she took as soon as possible. She wanted to believe the best of the children she interacted with and really could not understand why Callen had suddenly changed his story. Surely, she thought, a child was much more likely to be telling the truth in the aftermath of a traumatic event. Something or someone must have forced Callen to change his story.

"I don't believe you." She twisted her body so she faced away from the two men and was directly facing Callen. "Has someone told you to retract your earlier allegations?"

Three sets of eyes focused on Callen, intrigued to hear how he would respond. Callen knew he had to survive Southgate and serve the remainder of his sentence in relative safety and so he continued to suppress the truth.

"I'd never seen a dead body before and seeing Jake like that, knowing he felt so bad that he killed himself, I just got really confused and angry. We had a row a week ago and we never made up," Callen explained, deliberately mixing up partial truths with lies. "And I really don't like it here, so lied to get Brown and Jessop in to trouble."

McKenzie nodded in understanding but Woodley decided to put his psychiatric hat on.

"I read your file before this meeting. There was a lot to get through and the summary pages proved useful, especially the section that states you witnessed your foster brother get beaten to death when you were nine. Are you still lying?"

Callen shrugged, looking at Woodley with a shocked expression. "Oh...Jason." He broke away and dropped his head, staring at the floor. "I must've forgot that happened...Jason...it was ages ago...but I'm not lying now."

"OK," Woodley said, content to park that response until his one on one therapy session with Callen. "So why did you want to get them in to trouble?"

"Weren't you listening? I just told you. And Brown threw me in solitary on my first day for nothin'. All I did was shoot some pool and the others didn't like it when I won. They started the fight and then those bastards Brown and Pollack lock me up." Callen calculated it was time to start losing his temper in a controlled manner. If nothing else he would just come across as rude and angry, which would serve to wind them up further. The more they believed he was a vindictive brat whose word could not be relied on, the sooner they would leave him alone.

"That's enough Callen." McKenzie said. "You know damned well that you instigated a fight within hours of your arrival here. You do the crime, you do the time, as they say. Fighting is a crime at Southgate and you were punished. Mr Jessop pulled you up for not completing a single stroke of school work on your first day in class. That's not acceptable for any child. Whilst you're here, you will behave, attend class and work hard. And as you can't be civil then I think we're done here. Your lack of apology for wasting my time has been noted, and your false accusations have been struck from your record, although your lies and trouble making have been duly included in your file. And don't make the mistake of thinking I'll forget this in a hurry." He picked his phone before Miss Williams could comment further. "Wells, come and take Callen back and bring the next one in."

Wells entered the room quickly and Callen wondered if he'd been eavesdropping. "On your feet," he ordered.

Callen obeyed and walked towards the door.

"First therapy session is this afternoon Callen," Woodley called out. "See if we can find the root cause of your compulsive lying and start working on anger management issues."

As the door closed behind him, he could hear the raised voice of Miss Williams arguing her support of Callen and his original statement. Callen realised he had still not quite convinced her that he was just a lost cause and he walked along the corridor towards the class rooms with Wells by his side.

"The root cause of your attitude is that you're trash and my team is already correcting your behaviour. Much better than talking about your feelings with a shrink, eh Callen?" Wells chuckled at his own joke. "The first step was you telling the truth in that office. You admitted you're a liar and there's no abuse or neglect here. But I have a feeling we're gonna need to remind you, maybe every few days...and maybe every few nights."

"I did what you asked, just leave me alone," Callen said sullenly.

Wells grabbed Callen's arm and spun him round so they were facing each other. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to. I own you and don't you forget it."

"No chance," Callen muttered.

"What was that? Are you still answering me back, boy?"

"No sir," Callen replied monotonously.

"Good. I hear Mr Jessop is back today, so I'm sure you'll have an excellent time in his lessons."

Callen bit his tongue and walked ahead of Wells and in to the class room. The only vacant desk was at the front of the class again and he threw himself in the chair, looking up in time to see Wells and Jessop exchange glances. He had hoped it meant that Wells was letting Jessop know that he wouldn't be causing any problems in class for a while. Callen could do with a few quiet days. He thought about how he had been living before he'd been arrested, always alert and on the edge. It had been such exhausting way to live but exhilarating - he had been free; there were no rules and no constraints and he had actually enjoyed life. At Southgate there were rules, constraints and he was constantly on alert. The amount of energy that was required for life in the detention centre was much higher than he needed to survive on the streets - a different type of exhaustion, a negative type of exhaustion as opposed to the adrenaline rush he enjoyed on the outside.

"Callen!" Jessop yelled, causing him to start. "Since you were last in, you can be first to start reading chapter six, Colonial Settlement."

Callen opened the thick text book on his desk to chapter six, allowing the hard back cover to thump loudly on the table and he started reading.

He read for half an hour continuously, stumbling over a few words and losing his place twice before Jessop allowed him to stop. Emmerson now seemed to be the child of choice for Jessop to pick on and in keeping with their history topic, the resident rich kid was, according to Jessop, most likely descended from the English colonial elite of Charleston. He fired question after question at Emmerson on the Pilgrim Fathers and early British Colonialism of America. As the only inmate of Southgate to have attended school regularly, and a private school at that, he was able to answer each one correctly. Unable to belittle Emmerson, Jessop decided to pick on other youths, fixating on those who could be relied on to answer incorrectly. Callen rested his chin in his hands. All the while Jessop was ignoring him he could afford not to listen to his drivel. His thoughts wandered to adventures in the wilds of the Eastern American Frontier, with Pilgrims fighting against Mother Nature and the Native Americans to build new communities in a harsh and unforgiving landscape. His eyes drew heavy and as his head fell, he jolted awake several times before Jessop realised the fifteen year old was falling asleep in his class.

"Boring you, are we Callen?" Jessop had moved in front of Callen's desk and was now leaning over him.

"No sir," Callen muttered, trying to blink away the tiredness. Events of the past few days had finally caught up with him, and now he was going to have to force himself to stay awake at night, just in case Wells in particular, paid him another visit.

"If you don't stay awake I'll make you stand in front of the class and you can read the entire seventy six pages of the next chapter out loud to the class."

Callen looked up at Jessop. That was not the reaction he had been expecting, or even the punishment. He wondered if someone had spoken to Jessop and warned him to not be quite as harsh on them all for a while. Callen nodded slightly, refraining from a verbal response lest it served to antagonise Jessop unnecessarily and he wondered if maybe he was finally learning something at Southgate; the art of self control. Feeling proud of himself for not answering back, Callen spent the next hour fighting the desire to close his eyes.

Thank you to my hard core group of reviewers - you are all amazing and I am astounded at the comments and private messages I have received. And to those who faithfully read but don't review, I hope you are still enjoying (not sure that is the right word) this story, and stay with it to the end. There's not too much more of this hell for Callen to endure, I think he's had enough now.