Lost Innocence: The Accused. Part One (2 page)

THREE

TIME STOOD
still and sweat dripped off my body as I fell in
and out of consciousness; this had to be one of the longest, most
uncomfortable nights of my life. I shuffled around, trying to sleep
and just as I was finding some peace, a piercing bell rang loudly
in my ear. The others woke; the unbearable cacophony erupted once
more and seemed even louder than before. Everybody reached for
their cigarettes, lit up, took a long drag then blew smoke up into
the air.

Once I was done
coughing my lungs out, I wiped my eyes then started to stretch.
Startled by several offended bugs, dropping from my shorts, I
watched, shocked as they hurried away in different directions. My
head was still sore from the heat and my aching body was now
suffering as much as my nerves.

It wasn’t long before
the cell door slowly opened and three surly guards stood at the
entrance. The inmates finished their smokes, rose and packed away
their things into the corner of the room. I had nothing; not even a
pair of flip-flops for my feet.

We were filed out and
escorted through a dark, dingy hallway until arriving at a metal
doorway that had more locks than Fort Knox. It was unlocked then
pulled open with a creak. We stepped single-file down some broken
steps to a yard and were met with the harsh humidity of Bangkok. My
feet were black from the dirt and burnt on the hot stone of the
sun-scorched yard. I took a breath of foul air. It tasted of shit,
smelt like rotting garbage, but it was still good to be
outside.

I saw some small,
metal sheds to the left, an over-crowded rubbish area to the right
and at the back were suspended troughs filling with water. I licked
my lips and tried to control my raging thirst.

Following the others
into a cramped dining shed, I took a metal tray and got in line.
Two inmates, one with a ripped ear, the other with acne, stood
behind a small table and dished out what they referred to as food.
I was served a small scoop of brown rice with tiny squares of
cabbage. Finding a table on its last legs, I brushed away some
lively ants and sat alone. The rice smelt of burnt rubber, the
cabbage was tasteless but it was
food
and I was famished.

After breakfast I
walked over to the back of the yard, found a plastic bottle and
filled it up from the trough. Warm, dirty water ran down my arm as
I drank. It tasted like cat’s-piss, but it was water and I was
parched.

The others were
stripping off, taking a bowl from a man with brown hair and beady
eyes then stepping over to the troughs to wash. Following suit, I
pulled off my sweaty clothes and stood naked feeling eyes on me. I
tried to hide my modesty with my bottle and made my way over.
‘Beady Eyes’ held out his hand. I shook my head. He grunted, took a
pen, scribbled something on his hand then handed me a bowl with a
crack down the middle. I nudged my way in amongst the naked bodies
and held my place. I reached up and scooped a bucket of water. It
wasn’t clear or clean and smelt like a sewer.

I
was about to splash the water over myself when I felt a
strange tickling sensation on my foot. I backed away and witnessed
a huge, greasy brown rat dashing off. I screamed, the others
laughed - my wash was over before it had begun. I returned the bowl
to ‘Beady Eyes,’ climbed back into my clothes and stepped away from
the crowd.

I came across
a cracked piece of mirrored-glass glued to the
wall and stopped,
saddened by the image
that greeted me. My eyes looked heavy and tired; the blue had faded
to grey and wrinkles I hadn’t had before were now stretched over my
forehead. My face was filthy and my hair seemed
thicker, probably from the dirt.

Wondering what we
were supposed to do now, I observed the others. Some were sat on
the floor playing cards, others were gambling; throwing stones
against the wall, some were sleeping on the floor like strays and
others stood around talking.

As the sun grew
stronger, I could feel it burning the sides of my arms and jabbing
at the back of my neck. The Thais were unfazed but I was concerned
and searching for shade. There didn’t seem to be any shade and the
sheds were now locked, so I resorted to sitting on the floor with
my head down; one hand fending off mosquitoes, the other protecting
my skin. It wasn’t long before I grew hot, hungry and lonely. I
feared sunstroke, starvation and insanity.

It felt like hours
until the sheds were unlocked. I stumbled in for some food and was
served some watery, vegetable soup by ‘Ripped Ear.’ It tasted of a
sickly, sour-stew and smelt like gasoline. I finished quickly to
avoid the taste, stepped over to the trough and filled my broken
bottle.

It wasn’t long before
we were summoned back inside. I followed the others to our cell and
it was made clear that we should return to the exact same spot as
before. I remembered roughly where I’d sat; searched for my
neighbour, but couldn’t find him. Everybody was now in their place
but me.

I
stepped over the others, looked around and finally found my
guy. I knelt down, eased back into my patch of dirty floor then
felt something crawling up my leg. I shook off an angry cockroach
and gained the attention of an old guy with oily hair and a flat,
boxer’s nose. He was sitting with a lady-boy who wore heavy make-up
over a masculine face. She had anorexic legs, scrawny knees and was
kitted out in a short, sleazy, red dress.

“
You want blow job?”
‘Boxer’s Nose’ offered.

I shook my head as
‘Scrawny Knees’ lowered her eyes to my groin. ‘Boxer’s Nose’
laughed, slipped down his shorts then pulled ‘her’ head down onto
him. He fixed his eyes on me as ‘she’ sucked him. I looked
away.

Another man with a
bushy beard was scooping up bugs from the floor, tossing them into
his mouth and then swallowing them whole. If he missed, they ran
down his beard to escape. He was quick, he would catch them, follow
the same routine and they’d eventually meet their fate.

A prolonged churning
in my gut along with bowel movements alerted me that I had to go.
This would be my first time to use ‘the hole’ and I wasn’t looking
forward to it. I rose to my feet, stepped over the others and
arrived at the dirtiest, smelliest hole I’d ever seen. Bugs were
everywhere. I kicked them away, they came back – I gave up. I held
my nose, took another look - I couldn’t go. I was about to return
to my place when my bowels rumbled then roared. I turned back,
slipped down my shorts and folded my body into an undignified
squatting position. I balanced, closed my eyes and tried to ignore
the attention I was getting from the others.

Distracted by some
strange, screeching noises beneath me, I dreaded to think what it
was, clenched my bowels with urgency and finally managed to
evacuate them.

Concerned by the
thick, runny texture of my stool, I was more disturbed by the lack
of any toilet paper, but blown-away by the half-filled bucket of
water placed to the left. It smelt as if a dead animal had died
inside and was decomposing at the bottom - it probably
was.

My legs began to
shake then ache from all the squatting and I knew I had to end this
episode somehow. After a slow count of three, I quickly wiped my
backside with the back of my hand, dunked it in the bucket, twice,
shook it dry then pulled up my shorts. I stepped over the others,
slightly relieved and returned to my place.

After another
long night and very little sleep, I found myself
out in the yard. Breakfast had been dreadful
and the bugs as restless as ever. I’d spent most of the
morning brushing them away then feeling completely exhausted, I’d
fallen asleep.

I was in the midst of
a dream when I was awoken by someone kicking at my feet. I wiped my
eyes and glanced up at a heavily tattooed man through the rays of
the sun. He was stocky and had a mean-looking face with blood-shot
eyes - he looked high.

I thought it best to
turn away but when I did, he started screaming at me in Thai. My
heart raced as another tattooed man turned up with uneven eyes,
black teeth and a bent nose. He glared down at me with a hostile
stare and smiled evilly as the other Thai continued to scold
me.

The shouting suddenly
ceased. I scanned the yard for a guard – no guard. Unsure of what
they wanted; I listened as they talked. ‘High’, then pulled down
his shorts and hung his manhood inches from my face. Reaching for
the back of my head, he took a firm grip and pulled me into
position. I held my mouth shut tight and turned my head away.
‘Black Teeth’ made a fist and struck me hard on my head – it hurt.
I reached up to protect myself and was almost crying as I waited
the inevitable, too afraid to fight.

I
was struck again – it stung. I turned my head to face ‘High’
and felt the tip of his manhood rub up against my lower-lip. My
mouth stayed shut. I closed my eyes and braced myself – nothing
happened.

I heard some Thai
spoken but it wasn’t from my attackers, it was in a softer tone. I
opened my eyes and saw a
farang
was now sat on the floor next to me. He pulled
out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to the Thais. ‘High’ pulled
up his shorts, snatched the whole pack then strolled away with
‘Black Teeth.’

The
farang
turned to me,
raised his hand to my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Are you
alright?”

I sat there still
shaking. “I will be.”

“
Take a minute to
calm down.”

I rubbed my eyes.
“Thank you for saving me.”

“
No problem mate.
What’s your name?”

“
I’m Michael.” I
reached out my hand to his. He took it and shook it. “I’m
John.”

He had a sympathetic,
honest look about him, fair hair, deep brown eyes and a small, firm
build. I guessed by the light wrinkles on his forehead and the
occasional grey hair that he was in his forties.

“
Where did you come
from?”

“
I was moved from
another cell.”

“
How long have you
been here?”

“
Ten years. Have you
just arrived?”

“
Is it that
obvious?”

“
It takes time to
adjust.”

“
How has it been for
you?”

“
Tough. The heat, the
lack of decent food and never enough water, I was ready to give
up.”

“
What got you through
it?”

“
I met a guy who
introduced me to Buddhism. It showed me a new appreciation of
life.”

“
Sounds like a
worthwhile religion.”

“
It’s not a religion
if you follow it right. It’s kept me alive. Have you ever tried
meditation?”

“
I can’t say I
have.”

“
It will calm you;
help distract you for a while. Would you like to try?”

“
I guess we have
time.”

“
We have nothing but
time.”

John smiled then
suddenly looked serious as he began. “Straighten your back and
breathe as deeply and as slowly
as you
can.”

I couldn’t focus. My
grandfather came to mind; this would be the sort of mantra he’d
rehearse.

“
How are you
feeling?”

“
Better thanks, but
my mind keeps drifting.”

“
It will at
first.”

“
Can we try this
again later?”

“
No problem mate.
What came to mind?”

“…
.My granddad,
Nigel. He’s into meditation.”

“
Sounds like an
interesting guy. It’s good that you have family to focus on while
you’re here
.”

I flinched at a
cockroach. John laughed. “You’ll get used to all the
bugs.”

“
What about
infections?”

“
You stay strong
physically and mentally, your body will take care of itself and
meditation can help cool you down…..how you doing for
money?”

“
I don’t have
any.”

“
You contacted your
embassy?”

“
I haven’t,
no.”

“
They would have been
informed. They’ll send you some cash while you’re inside. It may
take a while, but if you leave your ATM card with a guard, he will
eventually sort you out.”

“
I don’t have my card
and I already owe a guy.”

“
I’ll take care of
that.”

“
Thanks. I’ll pay you
back when I can.”

“
I’m not going
anywhere.”

“
How long you in
for?”

“
I got
life.”

“
That’s
tough.”

“
I’ll tell you why
I’m here if you really want to know, but I warn you right now, I’m
not an innocent man. I’m serving time for my crime.”

“
Have you made many
friends?”

“
Not really and I can
speak Thai.”

“
Has that
helped?”