Prisoner

6

"Tell me what happened?"

"I don't need fucking therapy, Harry! Sorry, Dr. Styles. It's too late for that." I huff. Frustrated. He seems to have taken a special interest in me. Save the unsavable.

"You can call me Harry and it's never too late for therapy. So, tell me what happened." Harry says, eyeing me.

I sigh. Run a hand through my hair.
"Why? It's not like you're gonna believe me. It's fucking pointless!"

"Try me." He pushes.

I slouch.
"I was out clubbing. I was pretty drunk. I decided to head home but I needed to take a piss. I walked down the alley next to the club to... you know. I found a guy on the ground. He was bleeding. Someone had gone fucking ballistic with a knife and stabbed him. I tried to save him. Instead, I got arrested, charged for murder since he died and now I'm here. End of story."

"Your fingerprints were all over the knife." Harry says calmly.

"Of course they were. He panicked and pulled it out. I tried to stop him. You're not supposed to remove the object and it was fucking jammed into his stomach. I threw it on the ground and tried to stop the bleeding with my hands since it was fucking gushing out of him. He was bleeding out." I explain. Tired. I told this so many times but no one believed me.

"Why didn't you call an ambulance?" He questions. Still calm.

"I was busy trying to keep his intestines inside his body for fucks sake. Put pressure. Then people found us and called an ambulance and I was arrested. Can we stop talking about this now? It was fucking traumatic." I growl.

"Please humor me. So what happened next?" Harry asks.

I rub my face. Distressed.
"Multiple witnesses 'caught me in action', covered in his blood. They didn't actually see me stab him but that apparently didn't matter. As you so kindly pointed out, my fingerprints were on the knife. I also have a drug charge since a couple of years back. I got busted scoring. I got community service for that one but again, that apparently proved that I go around stabbing people for no reason." I mutter.

"And the hate crime aspect? The man who died was gay." Harry says carefully.

"Oh, for fucks sake! So am I! Why would I murder people from my own community? I'm not homophobic. That would be very ironic, wouldn't it?" I snort. Leg jumping. Fed up.

He just stares at me. I knew it.
"You don't believe me."

"I honestly don't know what to believe, Louis. Have in mind that I hear a lot of stories from a lot of inmates, some more believable than others. I do want to believe in a system that works. Where innocent people don't get a life sentence. Where evidence is waterproof without reasonable doubt." He says. He sounds upset.

"That's a bit naive, don't you think?" I blurt.

He shrugs.
"Maybe."

"Add a fucking lousy lawyer and a judge that wanted to state an example into that mix and maybe one day you will actually believe that I'm not a heart cold murderer. You know what? It doesn't change anything. I'm stuck here for 25 years anyhow, but at least you might understand why I'm pissed. Depressed. Whatever." I say. His precious system beat me down. Screwed me over. Big time.

He doesn't say much after that. Our session is over for the day and he has the weekend off. Even if I don't want to be in therapy I enjoy our meetings. He's easy on the eye. Gorgeous more like it. Nice. Kind. The type of person I would fall head over heels for if I hadn't been a prison customer. If I had met him out there, in the real world, I would have flirted. Asked him out in case he wasn't straight. I shouldn't even reflect over it. It just makes me sad. I will never have that. I will never meet the right guy. I have no idea if Harry is that guy but I'm never gonna find out.

I call my family to let them know that I'm okay. They want to visit me but I decline. My oldest sister Lottie is upset with me. I understand but I don't want to bring them into this awful place. I return to my cell and curse at my life. At least I don't hit the walls. Progress. I cry instead. Hopeless tears of despair. It isn't fair.

There's a knock on my cell door. I freeze. Scared. Someone unlocks it. I stand up, ready to fight. It's Dr. Horan. I relax. Wipe my face to get rid of tears. He smiles at me.
"Hi Louis, I'm on my way home but I just wanted to check in on you first. Examine your hands. Is that okay?"

"Sure." I agree. Take a seat on the bed. A guard is standing outside my door. Watching the Doctor. Watching me. Like I'm gonna hurt him.

He pulls my only chair closer to the bed and sits down. I hold out my hands and he examines them.
"They're healing nicely. Good. The stitches will fall off in a couple of days."

"Okay." I say quietly.

He looks at me. Examining me now.
"How are you?"

"Splendid." I lie.

"And how are you really?" He asks. What is it with the fucking staff at this hellhole? Can't they just leave me alone? I'm trying my best here to disconnect from my emotions but they poke and push.

"No offense Doctor but I'm not in the mood to talk about feelings and hold hands." I say dismissively. Rude.

"Alright. I'll see you on Monday." Dr. Horan says and leaves.

I spend my yard time chainsmoking, keeping an eye on the rapist who has targeted me. He tries to talk to me but a guard gets between us. I have Harry to thank for that. I don't know what he has told them but they try their best to keep me safe. Grateful.