Tornado (18+)

39- Tez

Every day I wake up I forget where I am. Then reality crashes me back to earth and my stomach does a flip-flop before settling into the depths of my arse.

The bleak prison walls are the only thing I have for company. My days are filled by staring at the chipped white paint which has been gouged at by the prisoners before me. My nights are a string of dreams about the days I'm yet to live after I leave this fucking shit hole. Paisley and I hand in hand as we take a stroll along a bustling beach, a plethora of colour for my eyes that have seen nothing much but white for the last six months. I dream of her laughter in my ears and her lips against my salty skin as we kick our feet through the cool water of the sea before we head home and end our day with me showing her exactly how much I've missed her.

The wait is tough. Real tough. But the determination and grit that flows through my veins help me to get through one day then the next.

I really should've checked more throughly for CCTV on neighbouring houses before beating Seth's arse. How stupid could I be?

I glance to the heavy metal door with bars at the window, there's unusual activity along the bridge. I can hear the footsteps of maybe two or three guards stomping against the steel steps as they approach the second floor from the first. The distinct metallic clink of keys in doors reverberates through Block A at HM Prison Lancaster, as does the growing unease from the other inmates. The rumbling chants of 'who are ya' signify we have the arrival of either a new inmate or a transfer from another prison.

I climb off of the lumpy mattress that's acted as my bed during my time of incarceration and push my face to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the newbie, the heckles outside growing louder. I'm too late. All I see is a tuft of sandy hair before whoever it is disappears into the cell a few doors down. I exhale a dejected breath and throw myself back onto the cot. That's it, excitement over.

Well, that is until tonight when I'll be jarred awake at stupid o'clock by a guard wielding a flashlight in my face again. He'll give me five minutes to get dressed before I'm escorted down to the isolation block. There I'll be stripped down for a search before starting a two-hour suicide watch. This is my prison job; to sit with inmates who are suicidal and talk with them.

Once my time is up, I'm strip-searched again and taken back to my cell then I can climb back under the itchy woollen blanket and try and get a few more hours of shut-eye. At 8 am I'm allowed out of my cell to the communal bathroom I share with the other fifty-two inmates. I've mastered the art of handling my morning business on the toilet between one man rapping and another going through his OCD ritual of tapping the sink in patterns of five beats.

It's nearly 4 pm and outside the cell doors, the PA System crackles to life. It's the same dull voice that regurgitates the same words five times a day, every day for god knows how many years. "Five minutes until count time. Five minutes."

Fucking count time. It's like purgatory.

I stand again and make my way to the door ready to recite my name and inmate number as the prison guard moves from cell door to cell door. I learned pretty early on into my sentence from listening and watching, that count time is a serious matter. If you're not in your cell and ready to be heard and counted, you'll end up facing disciplinary proceedings, which usually consists of time in the hole, otherwise known as solitary confinement.

"Name and number," Gonzo shouts through the window bars when he reaches me.

"Blackwell, BT53943."

The black handlebar moustache that sits above his nicotine-stained lips twitches, his beady eyes full of mistrust as they sweep over me. I refuse to make lingering eye contact with him, keeping my gaze pinned to the same dented iron bar I've stared at a thousand times already. I won't give these bastards an excuse to enter my cell for a quick elbow dig to the face in reprimand. I've made that mistake once or twice before. Never again. Several seconds pass before he finally moves along to the next cell, I let out a low breath in relief.