Doing Time

Chapter 1

The door slammed shut with a loud bang sending a shiver through me as I sat down on the cold metal seat and looked around the tiny traveling cell. I felt claustrophobia rise in me before I pushed it down and reminded myself that I would only be in here for a short time. The cell was little more than two feet wide by three foot deep and six feet high.

There were no windows, only a metal grill in the door which allowed me brief glimpses of the security officers. I could hear a gentle hissing and when I looked in the direction of the sound I realised it came from the air conditioning grill in the ceiling, no wonder the cell felt cold rather than hot and stale as I had expected.

There was no hope of escape, no way of me talking or forcing my way out of this situation I found myself in. My spirits sank as the seat vibrated beneath me and I felt the gentle acceleration of the prison van as it left the secure court compound for the prison where I would serve out my sentence. It was a bumpy ride and to steady myself I wedged my shoulders into a corner and my feet in the opposing corner.

Bored and with nothing to look at I closed my eyes, a big mistake, for instantly I was transported back to the court room where the magistrate announced my sentence. I could still hear his pompous voice ring out across the room like an out of tune bell, each word had jarred my nerves.

“Mr Conniston, you have shown little regard for the victims of your prolific acts of criminality and even less for the advice the police constabulary have given you over the years. I therefore have no choice but to sentence you to a three month custodial sentence with parole set at six weeks. May this sentence serve as a wakeup call.”

With his short speech over I was told to stand up before being quickly handcuffed by the security guard. Too stunned by the sentencing to respond to the advice being given to me by my solicitor (not that I ever had otherwise I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place) I simply nodded in all the right places. The security guard led me out through the back of the court room, down a starkly lit corridor and out into the compound where the prison van was waiting for me.

I opened my eyes to blot out the vision and focused on trying not to get thrown around like a lonely bean in a tin can, so it was with a mixture of relief and fear that I realised the vehicle had come to a halt and the engine had been switched off. For several minutes I sat there listening to the muffled voices of the security guards as they off loaded other prisoners from the van. Finally it was my turn and I was released from my cell, escorted off the van and across the yard to the main entrance to the prison.

As I walked towards the keypad controlled door I could not help but smile to myself at the irony of the notice above the door ‘Welcome to HMP Weydown’, who were they kidding? No one in their right mind would want to visit a prison, whether as a guest of her majesty or as a visitor. Certainly not me!

It was only once inside and standing before the reception desk was I finally released from the hand cuffs. The receptionist scowled as she asked me to confirm my name, place and date of birth.

“Rhys Conniston, Crawley, 18th June 1987.”

She muttered to herself as she checked her records before she found mine and then told the guards to take me on through. Through to where? I asked myself. I was about to find out as the guard escorting me guided (pushed) me towards another controlled access door, after keying in the access code he stepped to one side and I walked into what looked like a cross between an interview room and an airport security gate.

Immediately in front of me was a metal detector loop which I was told to step through slowly. As I did so it bleeped loudly, both my guard and the prison officer standing by the only other door in the room sighed loudly. Almost in unison they announced this meant a strip search, as if I had caused them the greatest inconvenience in the world.

I was told to remove my jumper which I did and placed it on the desk before walking back through the metal detector but still it bleeped. So off came my T-shirt revealing the Celtic tattoo I have covering my right bicep and along with two nipple rings. Smiling in satisfaction my guard told me to remove them both, I went to protest but from his expression I realised that I had no choice, either I did it or he would.

With fumbling fingers I managed to remove the rings and once again stepped through the detector. Again it bleeped, clearly bored with this game the prison officer told me to strip down to my briefs which I did so reluctantly taking my time to neatly fold my jeans and stuff my socks into my trainers. Still the bloody machine bleeped and I was getting nervous for there was little else to remove and I knew I wasn’t hiding anything.

My guard stood close beside me and growled into my ear saying “better remove those pants of yours and we’ll have a look inside to see what you’re hiding”.

I glanced sideways at him, gulped before I slipped my fingers into the waistband of my briefs and pushed them down to my ankles. I stepped out of them and placed them with the rest of my clothing before covering my assets with my hands as best I could. Chuckling at my embarrassment the prison officer slipped on a pair of latex gloves and removed a tube of KY from the desk drawer, then told me to bend over and grab my knees.

Following his instructions I looked down at my feet trying my best to ignore the guards derogatory comments and the finger busy applying the cold lubricant to my anus. Without any consideration to my comfort he rammed his finger up inside me, drawing a groan from me, felt all around and then just as quickly withdrew.

“Okay, there’s nothing concealed up there” the officer informed me “you can stand up again.”

I did as instructed told but forgot to cover my modesty and in doing so revealed the Prince Albert piercing hanging from my knob end.

“Why didn’t you tell us about that?” the officer asked frowning.

“You never asked” I replied shrugging my shoulders.

“Don’t be a smart arse in here” he whispered into my ear “otherwise you’re going to get on the wrong side of some inmates that you really don’t want to and they will make your life very unpleasant”

To emphasise the point he grabbed my balls and gave them a sharp tug downwards causing me to yelp in reaction to the sudden pain.

“Understand?” he asked before adding “now remove the piecing in your dick.”

I nodded in response as tears pricked my eyes while I fumbled to remove the Prince Albert. Once the ring was out I stepped through the metal detector which this time failed to sound the alarm to both my relief and theirs. With the body search over I was allowed to put my pants back on before being issued with prison regulation clothes; jogging bottoms, boxer shorts, socks, T-shirts and jumpers.

I was allowed to keep my trainers but all my other belongings were confiscated and would only to be returned on my release. The final part of kitting me out was a thin duvet and a pillow both vacuum packed together in a polythene bag.

Dressed in my new clothes and carrying the rest of my belongings I followed the prison officer back through to main reception and carried on walking along the corridor to another set of controlled access doors. This time the doors were manually locked rather than being key pad controlled, as I stepped through them and the officer locked the door behind me my heart sank with each chink of his keys. Somehow the sound of a key turning in a lock seemed to reinforce the fact that I was being locked up so much more forcefully than the quiet tap tap on a keypad.

He must have noticed my expression for with a chuckle he quipped “cheer up young man. You’re only in here for three months, if you keep your nose clean you’ll be out even quicker. It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

I just looked at him, unsure if to believe him or not, then forced a smile and said “thanks”.

“Right let’s get you settled in, I’ll take you to your cell and you can make yourself at home” he said as he led me through a series of doors locking each one behind me as we went through them.

Deeper into the prison he led me and as he did so the clamour from the inmates increased until I wasn’t sure if I was in a prison or lunatic asylum! Finally we walked onto the prison wing which to my untrained eye appeared crowded and chaotic and incredibly noisy. But as we were spotted the wing fell silent and all eyes watched our progress along the walkway and up the staircase onto the first floor landing.

Slowly the talking resumed and the volume increased again. Although I avoided making eye contact with anyone I could not help but be aware that a few guys openly studied me, where that was a good or bad thing I didn’t know.

*** Chapter 2

Finally we stopped outside cell B48, the door was ajar and without hesitation the officer pushed the door open wide and stepped back to allow me to enter through.

I quickly glanced around the cell as I walked inside. It was bigger than I had imagined it to be, enough space for two occupants judging by the two single beds in the room. There was also a toilet, a washbasin with mirror and shelving on either side along with two small cupboards at the foot of each bed. Immediately in front of me was a small narrow window with bars preventing any possible escape from within, to my surprise there were curtains on either side of the window.

For some reason I had thought curtains would not be permitted, I guess that shows how naive I was at that point! To my left I noticed a cork board with various photos pinned to it in the form of a collage, from what I could tell they appeared to be family photos judging by the facial similarity between the people in them.

It was at that point I heard a quiet rustling noise of pages being turned. Looking in the direction of the noise, which came from behind the open door, I saw the figure of a man (from the waist down) laying on the bed to my left. As the officer closed the cell door behind me the man was revealed in full. I would have put him in his fifties judging by his greying short cropped hair and wrinkled face.

He appeared to be well built verging on overweight and wore the regulation T-shirt and jogging bottoms. At that point he was reading a well worn paperback book until he heard the cell door click shut, with a quiet sigh he folded a corner of a page and closed the book. Placing it gently on the bed beside him he looked over in my direction and studied me with the same expression I had seen on some of the other inmate’s faces earlier.

Felling a little uncomfortable I smiled tentatively and said “Hi, I’m Rhys. I guess this is my bed?” as I placed my armful of belongings on the empty bed.

“You guessed right, quick aren’t you?” he replied in a tone that was just a little sarcastic.

Not quite sure how to respond I decided silence was the best policy so I focused on stowing my spare clothes in the cupboard before opening the polythene bag and shaking out my pillow and duvet. As I did so I heard movement behind me, glancing over my shoulder I saw the guy had sat up and was watching me with an amused expression on his face.

“This is your first time in prison, right?” he asked.

“Yeah” I replied, nodding as I smoothed down the duvet and sat down on it facing him.

“Ah that’s why they’ve put you in my cell. They always put the virgins in with me. I guess they figure I will show you guys how the place works, which of course being the nice guy that I am, I always do.”

“Oh I’m no virgin!” I replied a little indignantly.

“No you misunderstand me, I meant virgin as in first timer to prison life, that’s all. I’m Dennis by the way” he grinned offering his hand to be shook.

I reached across and grasped his hand firmly ready to shake it only to gasp in pain as his hand crushed mine in a vice-like grip.

“Jeez, you’ve got strong hands!” I said massaging my mangled hand much to his amusement.

“Yeah I guess I have” he said grinning “but in this place there’s little to do so I spend a lot of time in the gym keeping as fit as possible. Plus it helps keep trouble at bay if you know what I mean, not many guys will mess with me.”

To emphasise the point he clenched his fists and raised them in the air, displaying his hugely developed arms to great effect. Despite my bravado I was in awe and a little afraid of Dennis, I just hoped that we would be able to get along okay for the next couple of months until my release. Abruptly he stood up, towering over me like a giant before walking towards his cupboard and from inside retrieved a small kettle and two plastic cups. Filling the kettle from the wash basin he looked over at me and asked if I would like a cuppa.

“That’d be great” I replied relieved that things seemed to be going well “I er, um, don’t know how this all works. Where do you get the tea and stuff?”

“Don’t worry about it” he replied shrugging his broad shoulders “we’ll come to some arrangement and I’ll show you where everything is that you will need during your stay here.”

“Thanks” I said taking the offered cup of tea from him, strong and black for there was no milk (no fridge you see).

I sipped carefully at the hot fluid so as not to burn myself and to get used to its harsh taste. Dennis on the other hand drank deeply from it, downing it in four gulps before quietly belching and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Right young man” Dennis said as he stood casually looking out of the window before looking down at me “there are a few simple ground rules which need to be established. If you abide by them we’ll get on just fine, break them and I’ll break you. Understand?”

I nodded silently and continued sipping at my drink, using both hands to disguise the fact that they were shaking slightly.

“Rule number one, this is my patch and what I say goes. No questions. Don’t like it, ship on out. Rule number two, any guest of mine must be treated with respect. If you insult them it will cause me trouble and I don’t like trouble, it makes me angry and you will feel my fists. Rule number three, don’t bring trouble to my door, it will have the same result as rule number two. Rule number four, I like a clean and tidy cell, keep it that way.”

Again I nodded my understanding, having finished my drink I walked over to the wash basin and rinsed it off the best I could. Then on the spur of the moment I picked up his mug from the window sill and rinsed it off too.

“Good lad, you’re a quick learner, I think we’re going to get on just fine” he said as he lay back down on his bed with his hands behind his head.

Grinning I tidied away the kettle and cups before sitting down cross-legged on my bed with my back against the wall facing Dennis.

“Now before I give you a tour of the wing I should warn you about the three gangs which between them rule the majority of the wing. First there is the ‘Red Hand Gang’, they’re predominantly white guys with a liking for violence and using their fists. Then there’s ‘The Snakes’, predominantly black guys who can source whatever you’re after but at a price, oh and they can be violent too.

Finally ‘The Brotherhood’ a close-knit gang of mainly Arabic and asian Muslims, of the three they’re the least violent but insult or cross them they will do you the most harm. It’s best if you try to avoid getting involved with any of them. That way you’re most likely to come out of here in one piece. Okay? Let’s show you the facilities and introduce you to some of the guys.”