Page 3 of Hold On

Sturdy, who hated everyone, but seemed to have a particular dislike for him, might concoct a reason to create a disturbance and place Dominic at the centre.

Another inmate, jealous of Dominic’s impending release, might plant something on him.

The paperwork could be wrong. Not wrong enough to cancel his release, but enough to delay it. A delay was dangerous because it gave more time for something else to get twisted.

A doctor might change his mind.

Too many variables.

Dominic steadied his breathing. There was no way to control everything. In truth, he could control virtually nothing. Control had been taken away from him before he’d ever been locked up. Any threat against Billy by their father had ensured Dominic’s cooperation. Billy was his weakness. His beloved brother. The only person he cared about.

But avoiding trouble by staying in his room hadn’t been an option. His behaviour had to be perfect, balanced, thoughtful, and above all—normal. He’d even had to swallow the medication. To be caught not taking it at this stage would wreck everything. So, no palming it, no keeping his mouth as dry as possible and hiding it under his tongue, or between his cheek and his teeth. He followed the rules, took what he was given and now meds were awash in his system. They made his limbs feel heavy, slowed his thoughts and sometimes gave him pounding headaches.

Dominic turned his head at the sound of the blinds automatically rolling up inside the barred, double-glazed window.Last time I’ll see that happen.He condemned the thought the moment he’d had it.Don’t count your chickens.He’d learned not to make assumptions about anything.

He got off the bed and went through his exercises despite the protests of his sluggish body. He’d done his best to keep himself fit. There was a swimming pool here. A well-equipped gym that he used regularly, and a theatre room to show films. No wonder people on the outside thought it was like a holiday camp.

It wasn’t. Marsden, like Broadmoor and Rampton, was the home of serial killers, monstrous murderers—of which he was one, persistent rapists, perverted paedophiles, child killers, cannibals, those whose crimes were too violent even for the press to report, those deemed too dangerous to be held anywhere else. All were contained in places like this in the hope that with psychiatric care, they’d be rehabilitated and either transferred to a regular prison for someone else to look after, or, as in Dominic’s case, released to play a fulfilling role in society.Hmm.Did that really ever happen? Maybe it depended on your definition offulfilling.

The threat of having to come back to prison would never go away. How could doctors be sure they’d succeeded, even with him, in converting killers into people fit to play a useful role in society? Did they really believe they’d achieved some miraculous transformation, turning a killing machine into a benign truck, like one of those children’s toys he’d once stolen for Billy. Dominic had mistakenly stuffed Megatron inside his coat instead of Optimus Prime, the Transformer his brother had really wanted. Hetskedat the memory.

He thought about the men he’d seen transferred from this place to other prisons or very occasionally released directly from here, as he would be. Had any of them played the long game like him? Dominic had intelligence on his side. He was far brighter than any of them realised.

Exercises done, he used the fibreglass toilet, then showered in the small cubicle and cleaned his teeth at the same time. He didn’t like the shampoo and soap they were given, but he made do. Electric shavers were provided, and Dominic always tried not to look at his face because sometimes he saw his father in his features. His father had never been so thin and pale, but Dominic had his eyes. It made it hard to look at himself.

Compared to his fellowpatients,as they were called, he appeared malnourished. He doubted he was, but it didn’t take long to become overweight if you spent your few pounds a week allowance, and more if your family sent money in and most did, on crisps, biscuits, chocolate and sugary drinks. Treats to keep you going, to keep you happy.Right.Dominic hadn’t had any treats in almost sixteen years. Billy had wanted to bring him chocolate but Dominic would have had to eat it during the visit. Nothing could be taken back to your room. One taste and Dominic wouldn’t have been able to resist buying more. It was better to do without, to forget the pleasure.

The only items he purchased in the prison shop, aka the canteen, were essentials. Educational material had been provided free for a while. He’d been supported through GCSEs and A levels, then Open University—all done offline. He took training courses that interested him, even some that didn’t, because reading and learning kept him going. He wanted to know as much as he could about almost everything. He ordered specialist books from the library, though inter-library loans could take months to arrive. There were several charities that had supplied books too, though until 2015, he’d only been allowed to have twelve books in his room at a time.

Apart from paying a small sum to rent a TV, limited channels available, the rest of his allowance or his pay for work done went into a savings account because one day he’d need it.That day is here!What could he do without money on the outside?

Dominic dressed in clean but worn grey clothing: jogging bottoms, T-shirt, sweatshirt and cheap white trainers. All provided for him. He could have bought clothes but saw no point. He could have asked Billy—no, Col, that was his brother’s name now—to bring him something to wear for this auspicious day, but he’d never have put those clothes on again. His biggest wish was to wipe away his time inside as if it had never happened. He hoped it was possible.

He sat on the chair by his cleared desk. The books he wanted to keep were in a paper bag by the bed. Beyond opening the door for breakfast, there was no daily routine for him today. He looked around. The room was better than some he’d had, certainly better than any in an ordinary prison. He even had a key to his door, though it could be overridden by staff. The room had been designed to be as safe as possible for patients and everyone else. No CCTV in here, but cameras were everywhere else in the hospital. In any case, he was checked every thirty minutes, a face at the window in his door looking in.Not found a way to off yourself yet?Words whispered by Sturdy, and not just to him.The bastard.

Everything in here was suicide-safe. A moulded fibreglass bedframe, the urine-proof mattress covered with the same sort of material as a bouncy castle. Impossible to pull apart—so he’d been told, though he hadn’t tried. He’d never been on a bouncy castle. There were anti-ligature pegs on the wall, nothing sharp, nothing you could make sharp, nothing deadly, though there was always a way. Get the timing right, fill your nose, mouth and throat with tissue until you couldn’t breathe… Sharpen your toothbrush, cut up your arms not across, pierce the femoral artery in your thigh and you’d bleed out in minutes…

The door opened and Sturdy appeared. Nogood morningever came from him. He didn’t know why the guy disliked him so much. When Sturdy moved on, Dominic exhaled. There was a café-style area for eating breakfast but he stayed where he was.Not worth the risk.Not even to make a drink for himself in the lounge. He’d manage with water. He heard the other patients walking past. He’d already said goodbye to those who mattered. He’d been surprised to find he’d actually miss some of them.

Dr Roberts appeared at the door. Dominic rose to his feet and she gestured for him to sit down.

“How are you today?” she asked.

“Good.”

“No breakfast?”

“I’m…” He chose his words carefully. “Too excited.”

She nodded. “You’re happy with the advice from the Through the Gate team?”

“Yes.” They helped with housing, work and benefits.

“Well, I just wanted to wish you luck.”

Dominic nodded.

“I think you’ve had a rough deal, Dominic. Give yourself time to cope with being outside. I’m glad you have your brother to stay with. Don’t expect too much of yourself or other people. One step at a time and remember to breathe.”

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