Three Weeks in Hell

Chapter 7

Callen woke with a start. A low grating noise had disturbed his sleep and he raised his head towards the only possible source of the noise; his cell door. Two dark shapes moved quickly to his bed and a hand covered his mouth and nose before he could shout for help. Instinctively Callen struggled, raising his hands to his face, trying to force away the strange hands that were suffocating him. The other person now snatched at Callen's arms and pinned them behind his back, so he kicked his legs violently, hoping to make contact with one of his attackers. The world was rapidly turning black and Callen fleetingly thought it was fitting that he would die in a prison cell. The hands killing him suddenly let go and he gasped for air. He breathed in deeply and filled his lungs, rocking forwards until the pressure on his shoulders became worse than his need to breathe. The man behind him let go of his arms and both Pollack and Wells filled his vision. Wells sat himself half way up Callen's bed and Callen was reminded of Joe's warning that Wells had a liking for boys. Callen inched way from him in to the top corner of his bed.

"You've made a serious complaint about abuse and neglect. You've accused Southgate, Mr Jessop and Officer Brown of murdering Southerby and we're not having it." Pollack was standing over Callen and Wells, his six foot three frame every bit as intimidating as he intended.

Callen tensed himself ready for a punch, probably to the ribs where the damage would be hidden. That type of abuse he could handle, it was the close proximity of Wells that terrified him.

"I don't think you learned your lesson from your first day. Now the bruises have healed, you've forgotten who's in charge. It's not snivelling little fuckers like you or Southerby or jumped up bullies like Bramell," Pollack was referring to Matty B and his gang. "It's me, Wells and Brown. In class it's Jessop. We keep you and your lies away from McKenzie and from damaging the service we provide to the community by keeping you bastards locked up."

"We don't neglect or abuse," Wells continued, explaining in a calm and patronising voice, as though Callen were a young child. "We have strict rules and we discipline those who refuse to toe the line. And every single prisoner is here because they can't toe the line. You reap what you sow Callen." Wells placed his hand on Callen's ankle causing him to flinch. He tightened his grip, before letting go to rub the inside of Callen's ankle with his finger tips. "You're vulnerable Callen and there won't always be a pretty little social worker you can suck in with those big blue eyes of yours. Y'know accidents do happen in here...but then maybe someone will comfort you, give you a bit of love - something that's clearly been missing from your miserable, worthless life..."

Wells patted Callen's foot and stood up and Callen quickly moved his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Wells could tell his words had the desired effect and he smiled, nodding his head. Callen for once had remained silent - no sarcastic remark or smart-ass comment. Even in the dimmed light of the cell, Wells could see that Callen had visibly paled.

"You're going to withdraw your allegations, say you were lying to get attention, or whatever crap you liars make up, otherwise I'll show you what real abuse and neglect is. Don't make me come back and visit you..." Pollack warned, leading Wells to the cell door. "Next time I won't be as understanding, but Wells will be here to comfort you some. Sweet dreams, now..."

The door clanged shut, the noise reverberating in the still of the night. Callen barely allowed himself to breathe and he could feel himself shaking uncontrollably through fear. He told himself to breathe normally and to stop shaking, but his thoughts had little effect. Tears began to well at the corners of his eyes and Callen angrily wiped them away before they fell. He was not going to let the bastards of Southgate win. He refused to let them break him. Callen held his right hand out in front of him, willing it to remain steady. By focusing all his attention of his hand, he momentarily blanked the night visit from his mind and after several minutes, his hand stopped shaking. It was a hollow victory of mind over matter that quickly disappeared as Callen's thoughts drifted back to Pollack and Wells' threats. He closed his eyes, knowing he could sleep sitting up - but visions of Wells filled the darkness. Callen opened his eyes again quickly and grabbed his blanket, pulling it round him until it was tight around his neck, as though it would protect him from further harm. Callen remained in the same position until the first light of morning, pressed into the corner of his bed, eyes focused on the door to his cell, petrified that Wells might pay him a visit without Pollack for company.