J H Martin is from London, England but has no fixed abode. His writing has appeared in a number of places in Asia, Europe and the Americas.
Website: acoatforamonkey.wordpress.com Instagram: @acoatforamonkey
For the Record
“For the record Sir, at what point would you snap? At what point would you react?”
He pulled hard on his roll-up and pondered the question.
“Come on now Sir, when? When you lose your low-paid dead-end job? When the money runs out? When the food has been eaten? When the drink has been drunk? When you’ve had to sell what little you have? When your welfare payments have been stopped? When you’re evicted? No? You still wouldn’t react?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“Not bad. Not bad. So, how about when you then have to live outside of the law to survive? No? So, how about when the warrants go out? How about when you’re now on the run? When you can’t trust a soul? When your only friends are also your enemies? When you don’t know who you are any more? When everything is just one more lie piled on top of another?”
He laughed and shook his head again.
“OK, you’re doing great. Better than most. I have to say I’m impressed. But what about when you’re arrested then? When you’re detained? When you’re restrained? When you’re beaten? When your nose and your ribs are then broken? When you are forced to confess? When your lawyer’s thrown out of court or doesn’t even turn up? When you’re tried in your absence? When the laws are changed? And all of your appeals finally run out? You still wouldn’t snap?”
Inhaling and then exhaling slowly, he stepped over to the window.
“Jesus… Honestly, you must be Jesus… So, OK then, what about when they make you sign away your rights? When you’re processed? When they throw away the key? When you don’t dare look anyone in the eye? When nobody cares any more or wants to hear anything you say? When you are raped in the showers? When you hold a blade to your wrist? When you’re locked up in solitary on suicide watch? When you are taken out to shit and to piss in a plastic bucket? When you’re transferred from C to B and then on up to A? No? Seriously? You wouldn’t react? You wouldn’t snap? No? Why not?”
His face flushing red, he put out his smoke and stared out through the bars of the van window at the people in the street, as the van approached its destination.
“Oh right, of course,” he said, laughing, “Yes, you’re all innocent, aren’t you?”
Up ahead, he heard the rusted groan of the prison’s metal gates opening.
“Yeah,” he nodded, as he steeled himself for what he knew from experience lay in store for him, “We all say that people. Yeah, we all say that.”