Bronson 2 by Charles Bronson

Author:Charles Bronson [Charles Bronson and Stephen Richards]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782192534
Publisher: John Blake Publishing
Published: 2012-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

On the second night, I found two of them in the recess having it off! I felt sick, two old faggots in their heaven. I kicked them both up the arse. ‘Go on, fuck off, you pervo sickos.’ The fucking state of the sad bastards, baggy skin, dead eyes, smirks for smiles, panting and playing with each other’s skinny, smelly dicks. Get me out of this nightmare! They all knew who I was, but who were they? Who had they killed or raped? They never looked like blaggers to me.

‘Oy, cunt,’ I shouted to one, ‘what are you in for?’

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you!’

‘Err, I killed my wife!’

‘Oh yeah, what for?’

‘I was ill,’ he said.

‘Ill! What had she done to get wasted?’

‘Nothing!’

‘How did you kill her?’

‘I strangled her with her tights.’

‘Yeah, I bet you stuffed her panties in her mouth as well and done her up the back door, you filthy maggot!’ Looking at another loon, I said, ‘What about you … you over there with the evil eyes?’

‘I’m a rapist,’ he said.

Oh yeah! Big tough guy, eh? So who did you rape?’

‘I’d rather not say,’ he replied.

‘Oh, he’d rather not say … oh, so sorry for being personal, forgive me. I walked over to the bed and bent down and whispered, ‘Cunt … who did you rape!’

‘Err, my daughter,’ he said.

‘How old?’

‘Ten years old,’ he replied.

‘You cunt, you sick cunt.’

I then said in a loud voice, ‘All of you, listen to me. Listen, I don’t like you, I don’t like this place, you’re all sick …’ It went quiet, too quiet, unnervingly silent. ‘Err, sorry, lads, I got a bit upset there! I’m just having a go at the filth. If you’re not filth, my apologies, if you are, you’re filth!’ That’s how that dorm affected me, big-time crazy!

A week of it drove me nuts. I’d never fit in; I was not one of them. I had nothing in common; I’m a robber, a villain, not a fucking nutcase. Was I as mad as them, but to a higher degree, maybe more dangerous — psychotic? Was the problem me or were they actually thinking like me? Could they have wiped us all out? I believe they could and would if they had a gun or knife or a tin of petrol. The difficulty is, with me I can do it with my hands. To snap six of their necks before the others woke up would be a massacre without the weapons. How close it was, a nightmare come to reality! Screams beyond humanity!

The rest of my years in the asylums were spent in a solitary room. But even then in the early hours in my own mind I used to picture them, the whole asylum, asleep next door, in all the rooms and all the dorms. What were they dreaming and thinking and what horrors hid behind their faces. What depravity played in their brain? It’s no secret; there are a lot of sick bastards in them places!

I met them all in the asylums.

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