I felt my stomach tighten as he let me plummet to the floor and I noticed a pair of dog tags fall in front of me, the chime reverberated through me as I read ‘J. Rivers’ etched into the metal.
I drifted back to routine. I allowed my feet to carry me through to the canteen, following the line of orange jumpsuits. Many of the women had settled themselves onto the benches, but I found a single empty seat and had a mug of tea set down in front of me. I sat on my hands as I stared into the mug; a chip had caused a faint crack to travel down the handle, the intentional white shade had been stained with years of weakened tea and today’s batch was teamed with a generous amount of stale milk. I was at ease watching the flakes of sour milk break up on the surface, but not wanting to dismay the wardens – I drank it all.
The repetitive routine of prison life began to feel overwhelming. I felt sudden bursts of anger which I remarkably managed to contain. I wrung my hands in anxiety as the wardens passed, ‘I am fine, I don’t need to visit the special ward, I don’t need attention. I am fine, just fine’ I mumbled to myself constantly. Sometimes all I could do was sit solemnly, the grave thoughts had taken over, the peculiar fine details of his face flashed in front of me, thinking he was millimetres from my face made me scream out in pain. I had to wash it off, wash his scent from my neck, the smoke from my hair. I was in hysteria. I was in an emotional paralysis.
I began to feel the ideas swimming happily around my head, and unusual smile had been carved onto my face, yet a buried fear had reached my eyes. After one week the planning was done, I laughed to myself at my intelligence whilst sat contemplating the final details at breakfast. The grey porridge tasted sweet in my mouth but it was too hard to swallow. I had a skip in my walk but it was still assured I would trip. The warmth had remained in my fingertips yet numbness had spread throughout.
The smile was permanently etched into my head, just like his name on that necklace. I had a feeling of happiness, of what I thought was happiness, and I knew that sweet relief would come soon enough. I may not feel it but I knew it would be there. I sang softly to myself as I worked, “In the world I left behind” When I reached the cell, I ripped a long strip from my bed clothes. “Wipe their eyes” I stood up on the chair and reached up to tie a thick knot, I had bounded the cloth and the pipe. I liked the way the cloth felt against my neck, but I decided to tighten it, it was painful but I thought of the relief. I kicked the chair from underneath me and heard it fall. “And then let go”
August, 2009
It was Friday night, late I guess, my mum always said never to walk home on your own at night. I was never nervous about what she said. I’m sixteen, old enough to act for myself. I could still hear the music from the party, it was U2 ‘A Day Without Me’. The party was good but I just think I never get noticed. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t want to be the girl who is labelled a slag just because they get attention. I liked walking home on my own. And I liked the way August has a breeze that makes you feel warm. I could see my street from here, I wasn’t scared.
My heart thumped as I thought I heard plodding footsteps coming up behind me. I plucked up the courage to turn around, thank god, nothing there. I carried on walking, this time quickening my pace, about 400 yards left. I heard the same plodding sound but this time thought nothing of it. I frowned as it got louder, again I turned around but suddenly a pair of rough, calloused hand pressed against my eyes. I screamed.
“Hey! Calm down Jess, it’s only me!”
I sighed in relief as he took his hands from my eyes. It was Jay, the host of the party.
“God, you scared me!” He laughed.
“I didn’t expect you to leave so early, I was planning on talking to you”
“What? Really? Me?” I tried to regain my dignity, “Oh right, well sorry I had to get home, got a few parties lined up, you see”
Again, he laughed.
“You’re cute, and yeah I really like you, you know” Right there and then, I could have collapsed, I felt so warm, and not because of the breeze.
Stood under the street lamp, his necklace caught my eye. The orange light reflected back at me. I stepped in closer, and felt the etchings on the dog tags, “Rivers. I don’t think I ever knew your last name, Jay”
