Story of Tj 2: Part Xiii - Fight Fire with Fire


by Paul Frey <Frey769@hotmail.com>

As time went by I started to get a bit restless and frustrated. After Step One this place was like a piece of heaven, but the star dust rapidly wore off. They worked us _f_u_c_k_ing hard, physically and mentally. I was determined to get my own back on them and Crowmill and all by a flawless behaviour, but at that pace, nobody could avoid making mistakes. The second Friday I had 28 lashes, witnessed by Unix and Hammond. I got them for skipping my homework twice – I actually fell asleep on the desk on both occasions, being really exhausted, and itīd already rendered me five cane cuts times two, my first ones ever, in front of the rest of the class – and for bad playacting, really funny, ha ha. We were playing football in the field behind the Step Three house, it was cold and raining and getting dark and I was so tired I tripped over my own feet all the time, and to get a break I pretended to twist my ankle. I limped off and sat down on a bench, trying to look miserable, and then that _f_u_c_k_ing mr Donovan calmly walked by, only to spin around and come charging at me like a mad bull, and I got up fast as fury from the fright and ran away from him, healed by a miracle. Well, I made up for it on the frame, him doing the whipping, and I also secretely made it up to Unix, crying and howling about as much as he did, not having the strength even to try to ride it out with dignity. Anyway, when my ass was getting striped I sure as hell didnīt get any kinky feelings, and afterwards Jordan and Sprite had all of the chairs to themselves and I was one of the guys by the wall.

I asked Bear if we were going to get whipped every _f_u_c_k_ing Friday, and he said that usually four or five managed to behave well enough through the week, but my presence apparently _f_u_c_k_ed them all up. And mr Richards overheard us and I was put down for bad language, and Bear, too, case proven, he whispered to me, grinning. Next Friday only six of us got whipped, me getting 16 and Bear 20 lashes, and I told him heīd brought bad luck on himself for insulting me.

Christmas was at the door. Two freshies arrived from Step One, Adnan and Pepper. Sprite was going home on leave for two days, but the rest of us were staying. I was allowed a visit and my aunt and Grandpa drove all the way up to see me. They arrived late Friday night and went back Saturday afternoon. I wasnīt allowed to walk about with them, but we met Saturday morning in the guest house, quite nice and homely decorated, the door being locked on us as long as I was around. Iīd had 34 lashes the previous day and was sore as hell in a double sense, because 20 of them werenīt my doing, I just happened to be around when JD of all people screwed up and started yelling and cursing and trying to knock Robbie down because of something Robbie said about JDīs brother. I heard it all and couldnīt figure out what got into JD, for all I could tell Robbie didnīt say anything mean or even ambiguous (I looked it up as soon as I got hold of a dictionary), but JD was raging and to divert his attention I shouted at him and knocked a couple of chairs over, and Robbie sneaked off, saving his neck for the moment. The screws put it down as a fight between me and JD. I was on house duty for the first time and JD was supposed to help me get things right, and we were alone in the day room when Robbie just popped his ugly face through the door. JD tried to bear all the blame but the screws would have none of that, and neither JD nor me mentioned Robbie so we got 20 each and had to witness each otherīs whippings.

Grandpa was even more silent than usual and I could tell he felt bad about being here, seeing me in my Crowmill outfit, realizing this was for real. Auntie didnīt like it, either. Mr Jackson took them for a walk around the place Saturday morning, telling them all they didnīt want to know, and Auntie was terribly uptight afterwards, asking me over and over again if this was true, and that, and that, too, and since I couldnīt accuse mr Jackson of lying I had to confirm the whole _s_h_i_t_. Theyīd bought me some Christmas presents and sweets and stuff, but mr Jackson had told them I wasnīt allowed to accept anything from the outside, so all I had were the descriptions. Most of the time, Grandpa sat in an easy chair like a statue, not saying a word, just looking kind of accusingly at me, and I felt bad as hell all the time for doing this to them. I couldnīt sit down with them, either, and had to tell Iīd been whipped for fighting and some other stuff, and Grandpa finally said that Iīd had it coming for years, and even though he didnīt believe in physical violence, maybe that was the only language I spoke fluently. Hearing it from him was _f_u_c_k_ing awful. Then Auntie coaxed with him and he relaxed a bit, and we had some good time together in the end. Auntie told me between the two of us that he didnīt adapt well to being a widower and that heīd grown very old all of a sudden. I could see for myself, she didnīt have to tell me.

After they left, I was taken to the shower room and searched so thoroughly that I didnīt even know half of the places they looked into. I also had to leave blood and urine samples for drug tests. I didnīt blame them. All drug dealers Iīve ever known have been guys in their 70īs called Grandpa and plump little hair dressers with a nervous cough.

That was the prelude to my Christmas, and it didnīt get any better. JD screwed up again on Christmas Eve and was locked up in Step One, and I worried a lot about him, knowing he meant no harm, he was just miserable having to spend the holidays away from his family for the first time and things like that really can get on your nerves. The Crowmill staff staged none of the usual holiday bull_s_h_i_t_. If mr Jackson would have come around dressed up like Santa, I swear Iīd have kicked his balls. We had Christmas dinner and watched TV for one hour, then we were locked up and that was it. Our Xmas present was that whippings were out until after the holidays, but we had to study and train almost as hard as usual except for the real Holy Days, when absolutely nothing happened, and that was even worse. I spent Christmas in custody when I was 16 and they tried to let on everything was like normal, and it was _f_u_c_k_ing embarrassing because nothing was, so the Crowmill way was OK to me.

I asked Dazzle if he knew anything about JDīs brother. Dazzle checked with Chas and got the whole story. It turned out JD had two brothers, one of them, Adam, married to a cousin of Robbieīs. Adam ran into bad luck and was sent down for 6 years, and while he did time his lady tried to keep business going, but she screwed up, spending more time banging her head on the table and ODīing than she did bringing home the bread. They had a baby, too, and it was taken away from her because she just gave the _f_u_c_k_ and even left it alone in the flat. Adam was beside himself with worry, both his family and his business rapidly going down the drain, and he sent the word to his other brother to sort things out. This brother was a mean bastard. He went over there with good intentions and slapped the bitch around, but then he just lost his head and pumped her, and as _s_h_i_t_ happens she got knocked up. She fixed herself a detox and had the baby, the mean brother moving in with her, running Adamīs business and expanding it. Then Adam was paroled. Guess what happened. Adam was sentenced to life and some time after he killed himself and that was the gory end of a _f_u_c_k_ing nasty story. I even remembered hearing about it, like the Cain and Abel stuff, brother killing brother. It happened like five or six years ago.

I had to do something, now that I knew why JD went nuts in the first place. It must have been tough enough on him, having Robbie around all the time, and Iīd even helped the _f_u_c_k_er out, stopping JD from bashing his ugly head to pieces. Everything was a bit more easygoing between Christmas and New Yearīs Eve, mr Jackson and mr Donovan off duty and a couple of substitute screws trying to run business together with the remaining regulars. I volunteered for house duty, being able to move about more freely, spreading the word that I had porn pics for sale. I figured if it got around to the screws, thatīd be less serious than drugs. I didnīt know if heīd bite, but Unix did and was pretty sore when I said pics were out, figuring I had something against him. Well, I donīt have to bore you with details, but Robbie finally did bite and sweet _f_u_c_k_ing jesus, I got him real good and told him if he ratted Iīd kill him, and then I left him in a bloody heap on the shower room floor. This was after dinner on December 30th and I was innocently sweeping the day room when mr Ackroyd and mr Ryan burst in, ordering us all to our rooms immediately.

They questioned the lot of us, one by one. They were lousy at it. I knew exactly where they were heading all the time and could put the Aīs together in my head long before the Qīs were posed. They didnīt even look at my hands. Iīd protected my knuckles with ducktape I found in the broom cupboard, but they were a bit discoloured, had to get him down on the floor before I could use my boots for real and he was a tenacious bastard. They kept us locked up until 2 p. m. on New Yearīs Eve, questioning us all over, but no gain from that, either. And Robbie was in the sick ward with a concussion, a broken nose and four teeth gone, and I hoped those were just the headlines.

We played poker that night, Unix, Pepper, Bear and me, mr Benstead being our guardian angel. Bear politely invited him to the game, but he declined and even put Bear down for it. Unix won five games in a row. At lockup mr Benstead told me to stay behind, and then he said he was sure I did it to Robbie. I just put on a sad face and said, Sir, I know better than to argue with you, but I had nothing to do with it, Iīve hardly even spoken to the guy, and he said Youīre a _f_u_c_k_ing troublemaker, Jennings, itīs all over your face and your right hand speaks for itself, you wonīt get away with this. I said nothing, just shook my head slightly and looked even sadder, and that was the end of it. Youīre better off keeping your mouth shut at times like that. Anyway I figured he wasnīt that sure at all, because if he was, he wouldīve acted differently.

At midnight, I got out of bed and stood by the window, watching the few and very distant firework lights on the night sky, making a New Year resolution to get out of here before the end of January.


More stories by Paul Frey