Page 78 of The Freshman

If he had read Nate’s file, if he’dshuddered and curled over at the mention of his name like everyoneelse, he wouldn’t have gotten himself in the dire situation. Therewould be no dramatic guilty or not guilty moment. Gareth had toldhim it would be done quickly by the judge. He grinned warmly andrubbed Alfie on the back, like it was good news.

The next day Alfie dressedsmartly—black trousers, white shirt, and black tie. He did all hisbuttons, tucked in his shirt, and fixed his tie into position. Ifthey were to draw his sketch for the press, he at least wantedhimself to look smart.

Gareth smiled at him and gripped hisshoulder.

Alfie stared into his brown eyes, butthey brought him no comfort.

“At least it’ll be overtoday.”

Alfie didn’t know what he meant. Thewait, his life, the world. He wasn’t sure and bowed hishead.

“I think she’ll belenient. Considering your age and troubled childhood.”

“I’ll still get timethough.”

Gareth made a noise of confirmation.“It could be as little as a year, and you might only have to servehalf in prison.”

Six months of being targeted by staffand inmates. Alfie’s gut clenched, and he forced the thoughts fromhis mind. Numb, he needed to stay numb or he wouldn’t be able tocope.

He stood straight in the court, liftedhis chin, and stared fixedly at the stern woman wearing thewig.

The judge mentioned his young age, andhis childhood in care, but wanted his sentence to serve as awarning.

Two years. By the time he was done, hewouldn’t be a Freshman or a second year, but a graduate ofstupidity. A laugh bubbled in his throat. It gained momentum andsavageness. He tipped his head back and stared at the high ceiling.“I hate you,” he said.

There was no reply, no voice tellinghim he didn’t. He scrunched his face, wrinkled his nose, and baredhis teeth. “I hate you!”

The judge said something, and Garethdid too, but he ignored their voices. He only wanted one to answerhim. The past few weeks and months finally caught up with him andassaulted his emotions. His eyes burned and dropped tears. His noseran, and his lip quivered.

“I hate you, I hate you, Ihate you!”

His knee’s weakened, his chest hurtfrom yelling, and his throat grew hoarse. Two policemen manhandledhim as he yelled at the ceiling, and his wrists were cuffed infront of himself. He dug his heels into the floor as they draggedhim down a narrow corridor that led under the court. He splutteredand sobbed, and when they shoved him in a holding cell hecollapsed, emotions so raw he could only lie on his side like astricken animal and whimper to be put out of his misery.

Chapter Twenty

They led Alfie out a few hours later.Not through the front of the court, but the back, where a white vanwas waiting. He shivered with sweat and nerves, and his face felttight from dried tears. He didn’t speak. Even when the officersasked him questions, he kept his lips pressed in a line.

His rumpled shirt flapped in the wind.His tie and belt were quickly removed by one of the policeofficers. Alfie ducked his head at the flashing lights of the pressand stared at the heels of the man leading him out. He barelyregistered the press when he went in hours before, numb to thesinge of camera flashes and the swirling barrage ofnoise.

On the way out, the constant piercinglight irritated his red raw eyes, and the shouts from thejournalists were a fierce wind flicking up the sea. They wereangry, and as he stood there, he realized they reminded him of astorm. The crash and the flash assaulting his senses. The storm wasfrom his making, and it wanted to punish him, shipwreck him andnever allow him to surface in civilized society.

A police officer opened the door ofthe van and beckoned Alfie inside. He stepped up, turned around,and settled on the seat. Then the door was slammed to conceal him.He was spared the skull splinting white light, but he could stillhear the roar and pulse of the angry public.

The van vibrated into life, and theypulled slowly away from the court.

Alfie stared down at his cuffed hands,then closed his eyes. He felt the van bounce and sway as it madethe journey to the prison. Although Larkwood was the closest toboth his home address and the court, they opted to send him to onefarther away. He didn’t want to see his colleagues’ looks ofdisappointment and disgust, and the judge was unconvinced theywould treat him the same as everyone else.

The car took a turn, and Alfie’sshoulder hit one side of the small cabin, then the other side. Hewas tossed around in the small space and it reminded him of thehold on a ship. With the lightning flashing and wind rushing, hehad taken refuge in the bottom of the vessel. He would stay downthere with his eyes shut and outwait the storm.

He wished he could stay in the smallbox forever, not be tossed to the sharks at the other end of thevoyage. A screw who slept with a prisoner. He wasn’t going to getout of the prison system unscarred, mentally by the guards andphysically by the inmates.

The van hit a bump, and Alfie’s arsejumped off the seat. He grimaced at the flare of pain at his hipand scrunched his eyes tighter. Suddenly, his shoulder and hip bothstruck the side of the cabin and knocked the air from his chest. Hegrunted and opened his eyes once he realized the van hadstopped.

It didn’t seem a long enough journey,and he listened intently to the noises outside the van. There wasshouting and thumps to the van, slams of doors, and then suddenlythe one in front of him was wretched open. A masked figure reachedinside, and he resisted as much as he could, but his hands weregrabbed and pulled. The only parts visible on the figure’s facewere his dark brown eyes and his tattooed hands. He was a man,Alfie could tell by his size and his roughened hands.

“What are you doing?”Alfie yelped.

The man dragged him across the roadand flicked his chin out at the trunk of the car. Alfie shook hishead and looked left and right up the deserted road. The man struckthe trunk with his fist, and Alfie turned back to him with wideeyes.

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