Read Online Fighting to the Death by Carl Merritt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carl Merritt
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rapists always leered at everyone in there. They were on the lookout for the weakest. I heard one poor bastardbeing gang raped just a couple of cubicles from me. I couldn’t do anything about it because there were four inmates standing guard while this poor little kid was abused. And it wasn’t just sexual attacks in the shower room. One kid tried to stab another with an aerial he’d snapped in two and then sharpened up for an attack. Blood was everywhere as this nutter plunged his weapon into the other kid at least a dozen times. I don’t know what was behind the attack, but the screws came charging in and dragged them both away. The victim’s claret was still gushing down the floor drains as they rushed him to the sickbay. I later heard the attacker got a right thrashing. It was just as bad as that film Scum , which came out a few years back starring Ray Winstone. A lot of us called it hell.
The dorms we slept in at Rochester were pretty grim too. There were twelve kids to each room and all you had was a small bedside cabinet to put all your worldly belongings in. Naturally, anything of value was soon pinched. And there was a lot of farting and wanking going on at night, which didn’t exactly add to the friendly atmosphere.
One of my next-door neighbours in that dorm was this Italian-looking kid who constantly combed his hair. He really got up my nose. He had a sly way of looking at you as he combed his hair over and over again. Eventually I couldn’t stand watching him any longer so I barked at him to stop doing it or else I’d have to sort him out. He nodded his head, stopped and moved away. Then he started up again in the other corner of the dorm.
We each had a single bed and lights went out at 9 pm. Some of the kids were such basket cases they cried themselves to sleep which made it bloody depressing. A lot of them were burglarswhile a handful were in for violence, including me. That’s why most of the other kids left me alone.
Most of us had a picture of a naked bird hanging on the wall by our bed. I also had a couple of weird faces that I’d drawn in art classes. But that Italian arsehole with the comb had photos of fighter airplanes. What a loser! One time I spotted his comb on the floor and threw it in the bin, in the hope it might stop him combing his hair all day. Bastard simply produced another one from his bedside cabinet.
The way the screws woke us up each morning at Rochester was a bloody outrage. Three of them would come in and start screaming, ‘Get up, you lazy little wankers.’ Then they’d start kicking the ends of our beds. Butlins it was not.
Despite that earlier advice from my relatives, I couldn’t resist sometimes looking the nastiest screws straight in the eye, challenging them to have a pop at me but they didn’t bother. They’d seen me in the gym and had heard the rumours about my past as a fighter.
My work duties in Rochester weren’t too bad because I was assigned to the garden. But two nasty incidents happened, which luckily the screws never knew anything about. One morning I was in the gym room, on a workbench pulling weights, when this other kid marched in and said I was on his bench. I ignored him at first. Then he started really throwing his weight around so I had to give him a slap with a dumbbell. I’ve never forgotten how I visualised it was the face of that bloke who ruined my life after I beat him in that game of pool. This fella went down like a sack of frozen chips. I walked straight out of the gym before anyone else even noticed what had happened. Later I heard this same kid being given agrilling by a screw who wanted to know why his face was all mashed in. ‘I fell over, I fell over.’ He kept saying it over and over again. That’s how it went inside.
A few weeks later I was working in the garden when some kid decided to crack me over the head with a shovel because he didn’t like the way I was looking at him. I whacked him straight back with a flurry
The dorms we slept in at Rochester were pretty grim too. There were twelve kids to each room and all you had was a small bedside cabinet to put all your worldly belongings in. Naturally, anything of value was soon pinched. And there was a lot of farting and wanking going on at night, which didn’t exactly add to the friendly atmosphere.
One of my next-door neighbours in that dorm was this Italian-looking kid who constantly combed his hair. He really got up my nose. He had a sly way of looking at you as he combed his hair over and over again. Eventually I couldn’t stand watching him any longer so I barked at him to stop doing it or else I’d have to sort him out. He nodded his head, stopped and moved away. Then he started up again in the other corner of the dorm.
We each had a single bed and lights went out at 9 pm. Some of the kids were such basket cases they cried themselves to sleep which made it bloody depressing. A lot of them were burglarswhile a handful were in for violence, including me. That’s why most of the other kids left me alone.
Most of us had a picture of a naked bird hanging on the wall by our bed. I also had a couple of weird faces that I’d drawn in art classes. But that Italian arsehole with the comb had photos of fighter airplanes. What a loser! One time I spotted his comb on the floor and threw it in the bin, in the hope it might stop him combing his hair all day. Bastard simply produced another one from his bedside cabinet.
The way the screws woke us up each morning at Rochester was a bloody outrage. Three of them would come in and start screaming, ‘Get up, you lazy little wankers.’ Then they’d start kicking the ends of our beds. Butlins it was not.
Despite that earlier advice from my relatives, I couldn’t resist sometimes looking the nastiest screws straight in the eye, challenging them to have a pop at me but they didn’t bother. They’d seen me in the gym and had heard the rumours about my past as a fighter.
My work duties in Rochester weren’t too bad because I was assigned to the garden. But two nasty incidents happened, which luckily the screws never knew anything about. One morning I was in the gym room, on a workbench pulling weights, when this other kid marched in and said I was on his bench. I ignored him at first. Then he started really throwing his weight around so I had to give him a slap with a dumbbell. I’ve never forgotten how I visualised it was the face of that bloke who ruined my life after I beat him in that game of pool. This fella went down like a sack of frozen chips. I walked straight out of the gym before anyone else even noticed what had happened. Later I heard this same kid being given agrilling by a screw who wanted to know why his face was all mashed in. ‘I fell over, I fell over.’ He kept saying it over and over again. That’s how it went inside.
A few weeks later I was working in the garden when some kid decided to crack me over the head with a shovel because he didn’t like the way I was looking at him. I whacked him straight back with a flurry
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