Soliel

It’s nearly quarter past four. I lie on my bed and wait, and wait. I can see the sunlight above the head of the bed. Nearly here, just a minute or two. I can now feel the heat on the top of my head, slowly creeping onto my forehead. I shut my eyes tightly and begin to feel the intense heat on my face. The outside is pouring in and nobody can stop it, although I won’t take any chances and tell some sadistic bastard screw how good it feels. A whole forty minutes at this time of year as the sunlight passes over my bunk I can lie her and feel the sunlight washing over me, cleansing me, enriching me, letting me taste the outside universe. ‘Soleil.’ that’s what that poncy, bastard therapist calls it. I’m really pissed off with myself that I told him about it. If they want to fuck with me now they’ll get me out of my cell at just the right time, and I’ll miss it. He says ‘That’s the feeling you have denied your victims.’
‘What fucking victims?’ I snarl at him ‘I didn’t kill them.’
‘Then why are you in here?’
‘Because some shite copper couldn’t find his own arse with both hands. Let alone a killer.’ I growled at him.
‘If you accept your position, and your part in it then we can work on getting you a parole hearing… Eventually.’ He said.
Christ he talks bollocks. If I confess know they’ll lock me up as a fucking psycho at Her Majesty’s pleasure. You don’t cover your girl friend in your brother’s blood and get away with saying sorry after seven years. Sometimes I’m tempted though. Maybe being on a ward wing might be a bit easier. If I could just get my own clothes, I’d stop feeling like a pea trapped in a pod, were every other pea hates you and you hate them. I might stop feeling like my existence has been suspended until further notice. It’s cold now. The sunshine has just left my feet. I’ll see if they’ll let me go in the gym for a bit. That’s one good thing about that poncy bastard. ‘Physical exercise will help him manage his mood,’ He told them.

Ten past four, here it comes. I just lie back and enjoy the memories. If I told them everything, how that cheap slag lay there with my own brother, laughing at me.
‘Why did you think I was always round here? Dickhead.’ He said grinning.
‘I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out. You daft bastard.’ She cackled.
I had to shut them up. They were in the wrong. They pushed me so far. If I told my pet ponce, the therapist, all that I wonder if he’d understand. That fantastic feeling of standing up for myself floods through me. I showed them all. Don’t fuck with me. And now nobody does. The reputation of a psycho goes well in here; you only have to avoid the real psychos. All the aresholes, trying to be somebody, just think you’re going to go all Hannibal Lechter, and rip their throats out with your teeth so they stay well clear. It’s warming my stomach now. It’s all fucked up in here. I can’t work in the kitchen because I’ve been found guilty of a knife crime. But if nobody’s shagging my girlfriend then I’m not going to kill anybody am I. I screamed at them to stop laughing. I knew what was coming so I begged Paul to stop laughing, but he just called me a dickhead again. Sticks & Stones my arse. When he called me that it hurt, not just me feelings but it stung a bit like heartburn. I thought I was going to throw up. I’d read somewhere that the SAS train to kill men silently. From behind, pull the head back and stab the knife in to the side of the throat, sharp edge facing the chin, blunt edge scraping the spinal column. You then push the knife out of the neck and cut their voice box so no sound. Its right, no sound, but fuck there’s a lot of blood. The look on her face was fabulous. I often lie here thinking of that look, well worth it. I was shivering because the sun had gone, but the memory warmed me.

Five past four. That’ll teach that bastard screw Forshaw. He had that sycophantic grin he has, when he told me my doctor’s appointment had moved to four o’clock. I wasn’t going to miss my sunshine, my soliel. I got that little scrote, Tony Farrelly, to throw a knife down the back of the cooker after lunch. We’re normally locked down for about four hours when a knife goes missing. Just because he’s in a uniform, doesn’t mean he’s in charge. That arsehole therapist really wound me up. How did he know I was naked when I killed them? It was because of the evidence, all that blood, that’s why I was undressed. I’m not some fucking sex criminal. He said it showed fulfilment of some sexual desire or aforethought to the crime. One makes me a sex pervert the other makes me a cold blooded killer. I told him to find the fucker who did it and ask them. He says he just wants me to face the truth. I know the truth; I was angry but not stupid. I didn’t go there to kill them. My chest is lovely and warm now. I went there because I’d forgot my work locker keys. I didn’t kill them because they were shagging behind my back. I killed him to teach them both a lesson. I killed her because she was a witness. Lying here enjoying the sun, I realise that I had to kill them. After I’d killed them I was hunched up, folding in on the pain of there words and their evil laughter. Trapped inside this shitty little personality waiting for an opportunity to grow. At first I thought I’d been like a butterfly, and when I killed them I spread my wings for the first time and flew. But now I realise I was a phoenix. I was crushed and burnt. Reduced to nothing. I had to die that day, but so did they. I burnt brighter than I’ ever thought possible while I watched her writhe in his blood. When I saw her blinking because of the blood in her eyes and shaking
‘Oh fuck, Oh fuck. Oh fuck’ she repeated over and over, all the time blinking and shaking.
When I saw that, I had to freeze that perfect moment of terror. I rammed the knife deep into her skull. Both hands slamming it right into the top of her head. I felt the blood oose out onto my hands Then as I stood, I stood taller, I stood upright. I stood with wings, wings I could use anytime I needed them. I was the person I was born to be. Sun gone, more tomorrow.

It will only last for about three weeks, the sun moving down my bunk. It’s getting to be something I really look forward to. I’ve tried to get another way of focusing on the sun. I’ve put a little square of red paint on the glass. Not to big, if it’s to big the screws will spot it and make me clean it off. The sun shine through it and I have this little glow of red moving around my cell. When I first did it, the first time I saw this translucent red dot, it brought a memory back. Her face! The greyness of the walls was just like her skin and the way his blood had spread across it evenly, thinly, translucent just like the paint had done to the sunlight. Four o’clock. I’m pushed right up against the wall. It won’t be long and it will be gone from my bed, moving on up the wall. I feel all bottled up; the poncy bastard says I can get rid of that feeling by confessing. They’ve locked me up, what more do they want. I don’t know though, if I did confess I could enjoy the feelings that the memory brings, a bit more often. And I could tell others about it. About how I walked into the kitchen and stripped naked. Took a knife from the draw and even sharpened it. If those two arsholes hadn’t been so arrogant and think that I would just have skulked off back to work, they may still be alive. I walked in the room, naked. They were shagging again, the heartless bastards. I jumped on the bed, standing over them. I bent down and pulled his head back ‘Fuck off’ he shouted at me. He wasn’t even scared, we was just annoyed it seemed. I pulled with all the strength I had. I stabbed the big knife into the right side of his neck and kept going, pushing the blade forward. After I had completely slit his throat I continued to pull his head back. Screaming ‘Fuck you both, fuck you both.’ He clawed at his throat and made just this gurgling sound. I thought heed wriggled for ages but the coroner said it was about thirty seconds. He got really heavy when he was dead so I dragged him off the bed. Then I looked at her. She was rigid, with her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them before. It was weird. The bright blue of her eyes then the white and surrounded by the red of his blood. It reminded me of that target symbol you see on the back of a Mod’s parka. I was glad her eyes stayed open after she was dead. That’s how I know the last thing she saw was me standing over her covered in his blood. She had realised I was going to do her as well she started to shake. I thought I would have to use more force than I did, but the knife went straight through her skull. The judge went on about me showing no remorse. ‘I didn’t fucking do it!’ I screamed. The real reason I showed no remorse is because I don’t have any. For the first time in my life, I stood up for me, things went my way. So I’ve got to spend the next fifteen years in here. It was worth it. But if I did confess my mum would be devastated. Its bad enough losing a son without finding out the other one is a killer after all. Suns gone know, think I’ll go and get another book.