Three Weeks in Hell

Chapter 2

"That's enough," roared the officer who had finally moved from his relaxed position of observance. He grabbed hold of Callen and forcefully twisted his arms behind his back, pushing him to the floor. The second officer had now come to assist, quickly checking the other two teens were unhurt by the seemingly unprovoked attack. With an officer either side of him, Callen was lifted from the floor by his arms and dragged back through the hallway. He could hear the voices of the inmates cheering and jeering as he was led away. Each time one of the officers let go of him to unlock and open the secure doors, Callen struggled violently. When the first door was locked, one officer pinned Callen's arms behind his back while the other punched him in the face, splitting his lip and causing blood to trickle in to his mouth, warning him there was more to come if he didn't calm down. With Callen recovering from the first blow, the officer unlocked the next door but Callen continued to struggle, attempting to kick the guard in front of him. Once they had passed through and the door locked behind them, Callen was hit again, this time a sharp jab to stomach. Callen instinctively doubled over in pain but the guard pulled him upright and held him tightly. Eventually they reached his cell and the two officers literally threw Callen in and walked out.

Callen landed on his hands and knees. Turning his head to one side, he spat out the mouthful of blood he'd been trying not to swallow. Breathing rapidly he spoke just loudly enough for the officers to hear.

"Ugly bastards, too scared to take me on one at a time," Callen lay on the floor for a split second, his body tense as he anticipated the response that he knew would follow.

"You've got a real mouth on you Callen," one of the officers said, placing a heavy boot in the square of his back and pinning him to the concrete floor. Within seconds both officers had withdrawn their batons and began to hit Callen on both sides of his body.

"Is that all you got?" he asked the guards through gritted teeth, daring them to inflict as much pain and damage as possible.

Callen lay prone on the floor, tensing himself for every hit. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut to try and block out the pain. Minutes later, after a final kick to his legs, the officers retreated and locked his cell door.

"Five days isolation, you dirty, worthless piece of crap. You'll see no one, speak to no one and the only person you'll see is me bringing you three meals a day, if I remember. And I'll make sure they're real tasty. We'll move you to solitary when you've had time to calm down. That's on the other side of the prison so no one can hear you cry like a baby..."

Callen remained face down and this time stayed silent. He kept his eyes shut as he tried to block out the pain. He'd had worse beatings but he had no idea how he'd cope with the isolation. The meals were almost guaranteed to be spat in. He briefly wondered how long he could go without eating and vaguely recalled that you could survive on water alone for days on end. Satisfied his tormenters had finally moved away from his cell, Callen slowly rolled on to his side and brought his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and remained in the foetal position until the pain began to subside and his limbs were numb.

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Five days of isolation was a punishment worse than anything Callen could ever have imagined. He had been transferred from his cell to a smaller room that had no bars. The door was solid with a small window that was shuttered from the outside, allowing the guards to check on him without having to open the cell door or interact with him in any way. His bed was a basic built-in concrete block covered with a thin mattress, a base sheet, top sheet, small pillow and a blanket. In the corner was a metal toilet and hand basin. The detention centre was poorly heated, being an old building, and the floor of the cell was concrete and the walls whitewashed breeze blocks - there was no warmth at all. The lights were permanently on but dimmed during the night and Callen spent most of his first night huddled in the corner of the room, blanket wrapped around his body to make the most of what little warmth he could naturally generate. At one point he had moved the mattress to a corner of the room, but when the guards saw him, they entered the cell and hauled him to his feet, placing the mattress back on the bed. Callen was told that if he did that again, his isolation spell would increase by a further twenty four hours.