The Sinner by Martyn Waites

Author:Martyn Waites
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction

33

Tom stood in the queue, waiting patiently. Three people in front of him, one already on the phone, turned away from the rest, trying to create what privacy he could.

He was back on the wing. He had been sitting in his cell on the seg block, staring into space, doing nothing. He had tried exercises, push-ups and sit-ups, until his arms felt useless, his stomach cramped. He could smell his own sweat, soaking through his T-shirt. Sour. Just like every other inmate in the prison. I’m one of them now.

And he was. Like he was ticking off a list of things he expected inmates to do. Get into trouble and be put into segregation. Be constantly on the phone. Have tearful, depressing visits with loved ones. His disguise was complete. He had become his cover story.

Tearful, depressing visits with loved ones. That wasn’t how it had actually gone with Lila in the visiting room, but afterwards, alone in that Spartan cell designed to crush his spirit even more than the ones on the wing, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Tears came as he thought of Lila walking away from him, being able to breathe clean air and go where she wanted to. Able to go home, sit in the living room, watch TV. Go to bed when she wanted. He had come close to losing himself then, breaking down so much that he wondered whether it would be possible to pull himself back together, get into shape and finish this job.

It would have been so easy to just give in, lie there with the walls closing in on him and let himself go, acknowledge defeat. So he tried to bring himself back, compartmentalise his emotions. He used to be so good at this. Concentrate on the task in hand. Stay alive. Get the information out of Cunningham. Gradually he had done so, pushing his feelings about seeing Lila out of his mind, but it had been a struggle. Brought the old days back again. Reminded him that this line of work wasn’t something a person could do for long, not without losing themselves to it, possibly for ever. He had started exercising then, pushing himself as hard as he could, hoping the pounding of blood round his system would drown out his thoughts. He kept going until he couldn’t move anymore, slept that night on the floor of the cell.

And then the key in the lock, an officer looking in, telling him it was time to return to the wing.

He got up, went outside. He had expected to be told to stand and face the wall once more but the officer wasn’t alone. Louise Bradshaw was there. As was a small, balding, suited man, staring at him.

‘Hello Tom,’ said Louise.

‘Doctor,’ he said, giving a formal nod.

‘We’re going to return you to the wing now,’ she told him, ‘put you back in general pop. We think you’ve served enough of a punishment for your action.’

Tom said nothing.

‘Do you agree?’

‘Obviously.’

‘But

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