To be Pretty in Prison

11

Can we just appreciate how Dec reaches out to hold Ants hand quickly in wonky donky before having another screaming tantrum at the camera?? Like why Dec what are you doing to me 😭😭

Anyway melt down over. Slightly longer chapter than what you usually get to see from this book but it should be worth it! 😁 super excited for you to read this one... enjoy 🥰

I checked the clock tiredly, shifting at the ache in my arm but sighing when I still had half an hour left. Only a couple days back and Warden Cowell already had me slaving over his son's birthday present. In all fairness It was looking good, I'd done some work on the body, pulled out the dents and had struggled through polishing over any rough areas. Five hours so far of work and I was adding a final layer of protective coat to the bumper with boredom written plainly across my face.

My eyes flickered to Stephen who actually had the balls to be texting on duty. I wasn't a madman, but I was military trained, his confidence that I wouldn't try anything must have been high.

"What got you into this line of work then?" I asked, needing to pass the time a little faster.

Stephen didn't look up from his phone, "I was training in the police, but I didn't like the thug culture amongst the guys there. So I moved into corrections."

My only reply was a nod, I had never been one to keep a conversation going well.

"What about you? You always wanted to be a solider?"

I shrugged, "I left school with shit grades and a family to feed. Mam wanted to keep me out of a place like this so as soon as I turned old enough, she took me to the recruitment office and so my journey began."

"How long did you serve?"

"I had planned to just do my contracted 5 years, but I'd become a well paid specialist and developed a taste for violence. So I stayed on, was awarded my captaincy. Until one wrong step ended it all. Now I'm here. The safest place for me. The one place my Mam never wanted me to be."

"Chatty was telling the story of how you lost your leg. I'm sorry, that must have been horrible."

"I don't remember most of it. I remember how I'd just cleared 4 land mines from the road and then running back to the chopper but I don't remember ever making it there. I remember being on the floor, looking at my leg to see it bloody and stumped. Mangled is perhaps a better word. I woke up in a veteran rehabilitation centre. I remember the pain and the nightmares. I remember the cocktails of medication they pumped in me to keep me docile enough to treat." My painting hand laid dormant in mid air as I became lost in memories, my thoughts flickered to the drink I used to cope and the terrible things I'd done under its influence.

I shook my head quickly, dispelling the thoughts.

"You had a wife didn't you? What happened there?"

"Not much. We were childhood sweethearts had a kid too young but we loved him and so never looked back. We were happy. But I came back from the war a broken man, I drank too much and pushed her until she couldn't take anymore." I focused my cold gaze on Stevie, who's phone was left forgotten. I sat back and massaged away the phantom pain shooting from my missing limb up to my thigh.

"I can't imagine being with someone for that long."

I shrugged again, a re-developing habit of mine which i'd thought the army had beaten out of me. "It was different with me and Lisa. We were best friends, but I was always touring and when I'd come home she'd always be working. Looking back I realise that In the decade i spent being her husband, we barely spent a fraction of that time together and when it came to returning to civilian life... I think I always knew our relationship wouldn't survive. We were heading for disaster. The drinking was just a catalyst."