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There were three things she craved for from before – lipstick, a bath and being alone.

 

The days were the same.

 

In her way she did have her solitude because nobody spoke to her.  Because of her background she was ‘rewarded’ with the job that many inmates had aspired to for years.  She just walked into the position.  It was handed to her on a plate.

 

Louise was the prison librarian.  It was a place of quietness.  Those were the rules.  It was especially silent for Louise as no-one spoke to her.  She simply carried out her duties in silence.  Louise had tried initially to engage with the women who visited the library, the women that invariably borrowed books on crime.  Louise could not understand the fascination.  However, it soon became apparent that she would never get a response from them.  Louise had not even requested the job but because everyone thought that she did not deserve it, she became isolated from all the others.  Surrounded by people but alone.

 

Louise was the keeper of books.

 

*

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Because Louise had been an English teacher.

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*

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There was an unspoken rule inside the prison that no-one discussed their crimes or their past lives.  Louise did not have a problem sticking to this rule as nobody spoke to her anyway.

 

Helen of Troy ruled her wing.  There was irony in her nickname.  She was tough, authoritative, impatient, terrifying and unforgiving.  Helen of Troy was reputed to be the most beautiful woman in the world but this Helen was not.  No-one had the nerve to mention the fact that the tattoo on her forearm read ‘stringth’ instead of strength.

 

Helen of Troy was a bully and bullies have gangs.  She was the leader, naturally.  Bullies need to have victims so, for Helen, Louise was the natural target.  At first it was subtle, a nudge here, a push there – then there was spit in her food and faeces placed on her bedding.  But still never a word spoken.  Everyone ignored it, even the guards, especially the guards.

 

And so, it continued for day upon day, for week upon week, for month upon month.

 

Louise thought it could not get worse.

 

*

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It got worse.

 

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It was after lights out.  The cells were locked.  Louise was alone with her thoughts.  Her cell mate had never spoken to her.  There were no civilities between them.

 

Then the familiar sound of the key turning but it wasn’t morning yet.  The door opened and Louise’s cell mate calmly stood up and made her exit.  Louise had not noticed that she still wore her day attire, the blanket had been pulled over her.  She obviously was expecting this.  Whatever this was.

 

Louise was not.

 

*

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Louise did not need lights to know who this was.  The shadow of her outline was immense.  Louise could not fathom how she had orchestrated this – surely Helen of Troy did not have access to keys.  Helen’s influence was more powerful than Louise had expected.  Louise felt one emotion.

 

Fear.

 

*

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The fists reigned down relentlessly.  If Louise could have protected herself, which she doubted, she simply did not have time to react.

 

“Why you, why did Miss Perfect get the perfect job? There were others before you but you didn’t care about them.  You just fucking waltzed in and jumped the fucking queue.  You didn’t fucking deserve it, but you deserve this”.

 

“I didn’t jump any queue” pleaded Louise.  “I didn’t ask for the job.  I don’t want it.  I asked to be transferred so that someone else could have the chance but the Governor refused.  He said my appointment made a good impression of the prison if I worked in the library”.

 

“What’s so fucking special about you lady”?

 

Helen of Troy raised her fist to deliver the last almighty blow.  Louise knew she was for it.  She could only tell the truth.

 

“Because I was an English teacher”.      

 

Like in a cartoon the fist stopped mid-air.  If anything, Helen of Troy looked perplexed, lowering her arm she returned to the silence that Louise was familiar with.  Then silently she walked out of the cell.  Her cell mate returned, changed into her night gear and got into her bunk.

 

Not a word was said.

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*

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Two days later her cell mate packed up her things and left.  Louise did not receive an explanation.  Asking the guard what was happening she was informed that a new cell mate would arrive shortly.

 

She did.

 

Things could not get worse.

 

*

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Helen of Troy unpacked her things.

 

*

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Louise could not sleep that night nor any night for the next week.  There was panic in her veins and in her mind, waiting constantly for the attack.

 

It never came.

 

After seven nights, sheer exhaustion took over and, despite herself, she fell asleep and slept soundly.

 

The next morning, she was told that she was not needed in the library that day but she was not to leave her cell.

 

Maybe now it was coming.

 

*

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It started with a threat.  Helen of Troy could be very persuasive.  She threatened Louise that if she ever divulged what Helen was about to tell her, her days at the prison were numbered.

 

Louise knew the truth when she heard it.

 

The conversation was stilted.  Helen was not shouting or being a bully, she was talking with consideration and something else.

 

Louise realised that Helen of Troy was nervous.

 

It took almost two hours for Louise to grasp the words Helen was trying to say and the implications the words would have.

 

*

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Helen of Troy wanted Louise to teach her to read.

 

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During the days ahead nothing changed for Louise – still the nudges, the bumps, the pushes, the silence.

 

In the evening Louise brought out the books she had secured from the library and began the slow, the incredibly slow process.  Small steps for a monster of a woman.  Pens and paper remarkably appeared on her bunk.  She did not ask where they came from.

 

The routine continued for six months.  It was their secret, their routine and one which defined them.

 

However, progress was made.  It was like overcoming a hurdle, as if suddenly the walls of the dam were destroyed but instead of water flooding out, it was knowledge.

 

Helen of Troy could read.

 

Once started she could not stop.  Helen devoured books.  The guards did not question the amount taken out by Louise.  They never questioned the activities in their cell.  Helen of Troy still ran the wing, never acknowledging Louise outside of their cell.

 

They did not have in-depth conversations about themselves, they only talked about books.  One afternoon when Louise returned from her shift in the Library, Helen was waiting for her.  Her face had the scowl she only saw outside the cell.  Helen of Troy was angry.

 

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me”?

 

Louise was genuinely puzzled.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about my tattoo”.

 

There was a pause which seemed to go on for all eternity with Helen of Troy staring through Louise.  Then her face cracked and Helen started to laugh.  She had a raucous laugh.  A raucous laugh that was infectious.  Louise found herself joining in.

 

Louise was no longer alone.

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*

**

 

There was an unspoken rule inside the prison that no-one discussed their crime or their past lives.  One day Helen of Troy discussed both.

 

It started after Louise told Helen the story of Helen of Troy, of how she was the most beautiful woman in the world, how she had been carried off and how this had started a war.

 

The other tale also involved beauty but not hers.  Helen had loved Sandra and they were happy together, or so Helen had thought.  Helen still did a bit of petty thieving, nothing much and even held down a part-time bar job – the first time she had ever done that in her life.  When she opened the door to their flat Helen had known that something was wrong, there was an emptiness.

 

There was a note.

 

Sandra had left her.  She had fallen in love with Simon, her boss – obviously a man.  Helen did not experience loss at this time, she only felt rage and rage was not a good emotion to act upon but act upon it she did.  Simon was found lying in a gutter, beaten to a pulp.  After leaving hospital he never regained the use of his right arm.  Sandra’s face did not look pretty any more.  Despite wearing lots of make-up you could see the scar on her cheek.

 

The judge had said that Helen of Troy had not shown remorse and she admitted to Louise that this was because she did not feel any.  Still didn’t.

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*

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It was time, Louise knew, to tell her own tale.  How a respectable English teacher had found herself in the high security wing of this prison.

 

“I just wanted to be free”.

 

Helen chortled.

 

“You come to the wrong fucking place then”.

 

Helen stopped laughing.  She knew Louise had a point to make.

 

Louise explained how she had to leave her job, a job she loved, because she could not hide the bruises anymore and questions were being asked, especially by her students.

 

The attacks became more and more vicious to the point where she felt she would not venture out of the house for fear of being seen.  Even the home deliveries were requested to be left on the doorstop.

 

It was the final straw.  She could almost tolerate the beatings, the verbal abuse.  Her husband thought it was his right so he went a step further, a step too far and raped her.

 

In the night she went to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife she could find and hacked her husband to death.

 

The judge said that it was a considered action and that she had not shown remorse and she admitted to Helen that this was because she did not feel any.  Still didn’t.

 

“The truth is I am a free person now”.

 

*

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The next day Louise noticed that she had not been nudged or pushed; her lunch portions were bigger.  Maybe it was her imagination.

 

*

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There was a queue waiting for her in the library that day.  Everyone in the line spoke to her and each said the same thing.

 

“Louise, I just want to ask your advice on a book …”

 

*

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Louise was no longer alone.

 

*

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Louise was free.

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