“I Think I’ve Pissed Someone Off…”

(Trent)

Linda reappears in the flat, and immediately melts into a major mope. Right – that’s my cue. I’m off to do some investigating.

****

(Linda)

I’m back from another Mike-raid. I materialised in Mike’s cell in the middle of the night. He was fast asleep, and I watched him twitch and mutter while I pondered what I’d do to him next. But I couldn’t concentrate. I just felt sad. This schmuck used to be the love of my life. He was strong, manly, uncomplicated. He wanted to protect me, and to fuck, and to eat his bizarre high-protein microwave meals, and that was it. Then Laz and Geordie pranced into our lives, and everything went pear-shaped. Well, honestly? It was probably pear-shaped already. It’d felt good, though, before them. So I did nothing, just came back here. What the hell is the point?

****

(Trent)

Five drinks and a couple of black coffees later, I’m at the prison in time for morning visitations. Mike, obviously tense when he walks in, relaxes a little when he sees that it’s me.

“Thank God!” he says, and collapses into his plastic moulded chair.

“Who’d you think I might be?”

He shrugs.

“Just about anyone, including a friend of anyone in there.” he points behind him with a thumb.

“So,” I say, “What do you want me to do? How am I supposed to help you?”

Another visitor is escorted into the room, and sits at a free table at the other side of the room.

“I haven’t made many friends here,” he says heavily. “In fact, I think I’ve pissed someone off a lot…”

The other visitor, alone still, removes something from his pocket and points it at Mike.

“Get down!” I yell, every reaction just a bit slow from the alcohol. I shove Mike backwards with the table, his chair overturns, and something smacks into my left shoulder, spinning me around. I smack my head on the table and my shoulder turns into a ball of white-hot pain and everything fades out.

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