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One Year Later
“Oi, y’ve a visitor.”
The light burns me because the darkness is where I’ve slept for the last…I don’t know how many days? Months? I’ve lost count.
I’ve no windows, just a door and concrete walls. Where I was sent is not a normal prison. I’m locked away with a cesspool of degenerates, ensuring I pay for my crimes in the most heinous of ways. This tiny cell has become my home, where a monster has found solace in silence. Claustrophobia doesn’t bother me anymore.
The day I surrendered was the day I let go of my humanity and succumbed to the demons. They were always going to win. This was always my fate.
I didn’t want a trial. I admitted to everything, confessed to the crimes I did commit. Chief Constable Moore warned me of the repercussions, but I didn’t need a lecture—I knew I was going away for a very long time.
Not only did I have the drug distribution charge, but the trail of dead bodies had the judge punishing me in ways I wanted. I will never see the light of day again.
But I don’t think about the past. I don’t want to. I don’t want to reminisce on the good ole days because there are none. The people I left behind are better off without me because people have a tendency to die when they’re around me.
And besides, the person I once was is no more. The person they remember died the day I surrendered. I wish for them to remember me that way because this person I’ve grown into is not someone I want anyone to meet.
“Tell ’em to fuck off.”
The door slams shut.
Four Years Later
“Are ya goin’ to tell me who did this to ye?”
Turning my cheek, I shift on the soft bed as I’m not used to luxuries such as this anymore. But I suppose I’m not used to a lot of things like walking without chains binding my feet and wrists. And using a real fork.
Those are a thing of the past, a past I’ve forgotten because that world is dead to me, and in its place is this—hell.
The system didn’t know what to do with a young offender like me as my crimes were unlike anything they’d seen before. They wanted to put me into a YOC, but at the insistence of the chief constable, I was thrown into Riverbend House—a prison reserved for the depraved.
On the outside, things may seem “normal,” but on the inside, it’s anything but. I’ve been beaten, starved, and tortured, and no one does anything about it because no one cares. We’re merely playthings to the officers and other prisoners.
It’s kill or be killed, which is why I’m sporting a five-inch gash across my guts. I’m no one’s little bitch, and when a new inmate tried to make me his, I slit his fucking throat.
I’ve got nothing to lose out there, but everything to gain in here by reinforcing that no one fucks with Puck Kelly. I suppose my reputation is notorious because what I did five years ago shook Northern Ireland. Tales have been spun, but at the root of it was the truth—that I killed my father and uncle in cold blood.
Even though I didn’t pull the trigger, I was still responsible.
I’ve heard some ridiculous retellings from new prisoners trying to be my friend, but they were just bedtime stories mothers told their wains to frighten them. I was a basis of comparison.
Ye don’t wa Why let the truth get in the way of a good story? “Who’s Cara?” the nurse, Aoife, asks. I haven’t heard that name in so long, I’ve almost forgotten it. But the memories those four simple letters awaken have me remembering like it was only just yesterday. “My ma.” Aoife smiles—she’s too sweet to be working here. “Ya can’t be that bad if y’ve got yer ma’s name tattooed on yer knuckles.” I deadpan her. “Naw, I’m worse.” She pauses from stitching me up, her lower lip quivering. “I don’t believe it. There’s somethin’ different about ya.” “What don’tcha believe?” Her fingers tremble against my stomach. I know she likes me. I’ve been in this sickbay too many times to count, and each time, I see the way she looks at me. “The stories about ye. That ye killed thirty men with yer bare hands.” Laughing, I take great pleasure in seeing her turn a lovely scarlet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman. The last woman was… Refusing to give way to those memories, I decide to make room for new ones, so they’re the only ones I remember from this moment going forward. “Ye shouldn’t believe everythin’ ya hear. It was twenty-five, but who’s countin’?” I reply, eyeing her up and down. She brushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear before slowly getting up and drawing the blind on the door. She then locks it. With her back pressed to the door, she plays coy, but I sit back, already topless, waiting for her to make the next move. “Don’tcha tell anyone,” she says, slowly undoing the zipper on her white uniform. She’s wearing a black bra and matching underwear. “It’ll be our secret,” I assure, beckoning her over with my finger. She walks over to the bed, and if this were any other prison, there’d be a prison officer inside the room. But this is Riverbend House and anything goes. She peers down at me, licking her lips. With nothing but time on my hands, I work out a lot. I was muscular before, but now, I’ve grown into that body. She is beautiful, but she isn’t who I want. But who I want, I can never have. “C’mere,” I softly order, and Aoife obeys my command. She straddles me, and the feel of her on me is almost suffocating, but I wrap my arms around her waist, almost forgetting how soft a woman feels. When she tries to kiss me, I turn my cheek because I don’t want that sort of intimacy. Instead, I reach around and unhook her bra. Her tits bounce free, and I bend low, taking one in my mouth. She moans, rubbing herself against my cock. She quickly lowers my trousers and takes me into her mouth. I see stars because this feels fucking grand, but as I brush her hair aside so I can see her pretty pink lips take my cock in and out of her mouth, all I think about is how it isn’t her I want. She doesn’t rouse the hunger in my loins. She doesn’t get me rock-hard. There is only one doll who does, and the sick fucker that I am wishes Aoife was her. I wish my half-sister was sucking my cock, the pleasured sounds spilling from her sinful mouth. I’m disgusting, I know it, but I can’t help the way I feel, which is why I angrily lift Aoife and take her with me as I stand and slam her front to the wall. She doesn’t have a chance to object when I rip off her underwear and sink into her warm pussy from behind. When I hit her hard, she whimpers and arches her back. She wants more. I ride her long and hard, wishing I could fuck away the desire I feel for Babydoll, but it’ll never go away. I could have all the pussy in the world, and there’d only ever be one I want. “Harder,” Aoife demands, bouncing on my cock as I fuck her without remorse. I come only after she does, hoping that I’ll forget the face and body I really want. But I don’t. It only makes me want her all the more. Once I’m done, I clean away the mess I’ve made on Aoife’s back and get dressed. She shyly slips on her uniform, and I wonder if I’m the first person she’s broken the rules with. But I’m not naïve, I’m no one special.