The Legacy

I hear the sound of keys, rattling in the metal door.

My cell mate, Cooper, is fast asleep in the bunk below. “Coop, its five-thirty, time for our work-out.”

“Get lost Hugh,” he grunts.

I leap down from my bunk. “Look, if I can do it, you can. You’re never going to get fit lazing around in bed. It takes discipline.”

He pokes his head above the coarse blanket, his eyes still half closed. “Hugh, I can’t do this every day, just give me a break.”

I pick up my standard issue sports kit. “It’s up to you, but if you want to get your strength and fitness back, you’ll get your backside out of that bed and join me. What happened to the determined guy I met in the hospital unit? You’re a loser, Coop.”

After using the toilet, I splash my face with cold water from the hand-basin, clean my teeth, pull on joggers and T-shirt then stare at my reflection in the mirror on the wall. My shaved hair looks like a shadow covering my scalp. My face is thinner, my features sharper, more defined, but my dark eyes still flash with the same gritty determination and competitive edge they have always had. My body is honed and toned, with its well-defined six-pack, testament to my fierce determination to achieve my former fitness levels.

By the time I’ve finished, Coop is out of bed, yawning and scratching his head, as if trying to scratch his scalp off with his nails. His cropped, thick, wiry blond hair reminds me of a scrubbing brush and, not for the first time, I wonder if he has nits.

“Okay, if I must,” he says with reluctance, reaching for his sports kit.

The cell door creaks open and the prison medic enters, pushing in a drugs trolley. “Time for your medication, guys.”

He holds out a small plastic pot containing an assortment of pills, which I take from him and place on a small metal table, then pick up a beaker and fill it from the water dispenser.

He fastens me with his beady grey eyes, like slits struggling for survival in his fat, shiny face. Great dark circles of sweat have formed under the armpits of his light-blue shirt, and he smells like he’s never had a shower in his entire life. “How are you feeling today? Your Psychiatrist is really pleased with your progress.” He gives me a forced weak smile, pretending to be interested in my well-being.

I go along with the pretence. “I’m good, thanks. I think I’m finally getting there. Physically, I’m a lot stronger and my one-to-one sessions with Dr. Anna Lasiss have helped a lot.”

“Keep up the good work,” he says, pushing the trolley towards Coop.

While his back is turned, I slip the pills into my pocket.

“How are you doing, Coop? Do you need any painkillers with your meds today?”

“Yes I do, sharing a cell with this fitness freak is a pain in the ar…”

“Now then Coop,” he intervenes. “Watch what you’re saying.”

“Well, he gets me out of bed at the crack of dawn every morning, puts me through a masochistic work out in the gym and then expects me to run round the track. I don’t know about getting fit, I think he’s trying to kill me.”

He hands Coop his pills. “Stop moaning and get on with it. It’s good for you, in time you’ll thank him for it.”

He turns round. “Have you taken your pills Hugh?”

“Yes, thanks.” I hand him the empty pot.

Coop gulps his tablets down, and does the same.

After closing and locking the drugs cabinet, he pushes it towards the door.

“Oh, Hugh, don’t forget, you’ve got your first group session at two o’clock this afternoon, its being held in training room five.”

Another useless waste of time. “Yes, I know, I’m looking forward to it,” I say with feigned interest.

I watch him manoeuvre his trolley towards an adjacent cell, his big bald head shining like a beacon under the harsh fluorescent lights.

I fish out the tablets from my pocket, drop them into the toilet and flush them away.

Coop is standing in the doorway. “Why don’t you take your meds Hugh? They wouldn’t prescribe them if you didn’t need them.”

My hackles rise. “I don’t intend to take chemicals that mess with my head. I don’t need them and if you report it, I promise you, you’ll live to regret it.”

He raises his hands in submission. “Hey, it’s up to you pal. Don’t worry, I value our rewards for good behaviour far too much to risk losing them. At least now we’re only locked in at night, and its great being free to use the communal areas, so you’re secret’s safe with me.”

I relax. “Thanks Coop. Sorry for jumping down your throat.”

He looks thoughtful. “Hugh, what’s the big deal about why you were sent down, surely you can tell me?”

An indelible image of Scott and Eemay with their eyes locked in mutual devotion on their wedding day, flashes before me. “You can ask me as many times as you like, it’s none of your business.”

He has the sense not to push it.

We leave for our work-out, exercise is the only thing I need to keep me sane.

By two o’clock, I’ve showered, changed and am ready for the group session.

I knock, then open the door to the training room. Miss Monotone is sitting behind a table on which is a list of names.

“Ah Hugh, welcome to your first group session,” she says, ticking off my name. I notice her long scarlet nails, the heavy make-up that looks like a mask, her blonde hair scraped into a bun on top of her head. She is wearing a pristine navy blue suit, and towering heels. She reminds me of a shop window mannequin, stiff and brittle.

She looks up at me with her cold, ice-blue eyes. “You will only benefit from the group sessions if you’re prepared to contribute. You might find it uncomfortable at first, but the more you interact with the other participants, the more you will get from it.”

I sit down in one of the plastic chairs that form a circle in the middle of the otherwise sparse room. Others join me, until all the chairs have been taken. I glance round. Vertical blinds at the windows have been drawn to prevent prying eyes and there is a flip-chart ready and waiting to record group comments and suggestions. I groan, the last thing I need right now is to be holed up in here with a bunch of losers for a so called group therapy session.

Miss Monotone stands up. “Now, I need a volunteer to go first,” she says, circling the chairs and scanning everyone with her cold eyes.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

Deathly silence ensues.

“Okay, it looks like I’m going to have to nominate someone.”

Her icy eyes seek out mine. I look away, but she doesn’t take the hint. “Hugh, can you please tell everyone what you expect to gain from the group sessions. Then in a clockwise order, I would like everyone else to do the same.”

Bitch. I feel my anger rising, so take a deep breath, willing myself to keep calm. “I want to build on the one-to-one sessions I’ve already had,” I say.

She looks up. “That’s good Hugh, but can you expand on it?”

My gut reaction is to blank her, then realise I might be missing a trick. This could actually be my chance to impress, to bring my release closer. I remember the goals I had to set in the futile one-to-one sessions, and for once, think they might actually come in useful.

“Hugh, we’re waiting, we haven’t got all day,” she prompts, with a smug smile.

I clear my throat, ready to give the performance of my life.

“When I reflect on the person I used to be, I feel a sense of shame and regret. It was as if I had a toxic poison festering inside me, taking over my thoughts and actions. It’s been a revelation to understand how the early influences in my life, contributed to the villainous adult I became. I’m now ashamed, and am determined to commit that person to the past. The one-to-one sessions helped to change my thought processes, my attitudes and my priorities. I no longer hold a grudge, I’ve learned to let go, to forgive. I actually like the changes in me and, as a person, feel happier and more content. I’m proud of my progress, my journey so far, and hope the group sessions will take me to my final destination.”

As I sit down, there is absolute silence, which tells me I have made the impact I intended.

Miss Monotone coughs, breaking the silence. “Thanks for that Hugh. Very profound, if I may say so.”

One by one, the others take their turn to express their own expectations of the sessions, but I don’t listen, my main focus is getting out of here to deal with unfinished business.