Page 57 of Son of a Witch

“Don’t give me that shit, Tor.”

I blinked. Wow. My mom never swore. Ever. Not since the doctors dismissed me when I told them I could walk again. Second time tonight. She might be sweet and unassuming, but she found that powerful and commanding mommy voice when she needed to. “I know you’re not in New York. Don’t lie to me. Where the hell are you? Do I need to contact the police?”

Sweat broke out on my forehead and beaded down my temples along the side of my face. This lie had gone on for too long, and I never should have used it. At first, it gave me the excuse to cover up why I couldn’t attend dinner twice a week, once during weekdays and again on weekends. My cover convinced them that I’d visit once a month when I traveled back to Australia. AKA, when the warden gave me a monthly weekend pass.

I wiped away the sweat and glanced at the guard. If I bullshitted her again, she’d call the cops and report me missing. Have half the state of New South Wales searching for me.

The sentry glared at me and ran his finger across his neck, signaling he’d cut the line if I snitched my location.

I swallowed past the burning sting in my throat and rasped, “I’m in a facility in Broken Hill.”

“Facility?” Disbelief in her voice. “What’s the address? Janet will leave the kids with a friend, and we’ll drive to see you.”

“You can’t.” I twirled the cord on my finger so tight it cut off my circulation. At least I still had feeling somewhere in my body. I didn’t feel a thing in my legs besides numbness.

“Why not, Tor?” Now she got cranky. “You need your family with you.”

The guard glanced up with a glare, warning me to stay silent. But I couldn’t. My family would be sick with worry. They needed to know I was okay and getting good medical care.

“Because I’m in prison.” The phone line went dead. I smashed the receiver against the wall.

The sentry snapped the door open, shuffled inside the cramped space, and dragged my chair from the booth. “You little shit! I’m taking you to the warden.”

Moments later, the sentry had me parked in front of Vancor’s desk. A place I was overly familiar with. Except with a different person seated behind the desk, wearing a glare just for me.

“Why the hell would you say that?” The warden gripped at his grey-tipped hair. “You know it’s against protocol.”

Fuck protocol. Fuck this place. And fuck him. My mom wasn’t going to stop asking questions. I’d be in just as much shit if she got the cops involved.

“What was I supposed to say?” I snapped back. “She wanted to come and visit me. Threatened to call the police.”

The warden’s mouth curled up as did his fist. He went to say something and stopped himself. “I understand the situation. Perhaps you should have come to me first and we could have arranged a special meeting.”

Vartros had never been so kind or considerate. The man had a personal vendetta against me. Wanted to lock me up for life and throw away the key.

“A special meeting?” I huffed. “Where? When?” My voice came out louder and harder than I meant. I was quickly losing my patience with this clown.

The warden climbed out of his chair, side-stepped his desk, and leaned on the arms of my wheelchair. “You’ve put us in a very precarious position, Mr. Helms. Now we’re forced to arrange a meeting to reassure her of your wellbeing. We cannot risk her notifying various channels to commence a search for you. We don’t want politicians or the police sniffing around our business, do we?”

I bit the inside of my lip, not looking at him. Fuck. I guess this was just another tick on my rap sheet. A very long rap sheet. Tor, fuck-up of the century.

The warden let go of my chair arms and straightened, adjusting his crooked tie. “I’ll arrange for you to meet your mother. Give me a couple of days to organize it. In the meantime, call her back and tell her you will advise her of when and where.”

What the fuck? “Thank you, sir.” Dumbfounded by the gesture, I didn’t know what else to say. Especially when I was probably about to be dumped with the shittiest punishment ever.

“I understand the difficulty of your situation, Mr. Helms.” The warden returned behind his desk to pour himself a finger of whisky. “But if you pull any more stunts like this, I will ensure you stay here until the end of your natural life. Do you understand me?”

Loud and fucking clear. I wasn’t risking that. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight and make yourself useful, would you?” the warden hissed after he downed his drink. “One more mishap and you’re going to maximum security with no exercise time.”

Roger that, dickhead. We’d see about that. I was getting out of this shithole if it was the last fucking thing I did. To piss him off, I saluted the prick and left before he chewed me another asshole.

***

Normally,my back would ache when I sat in a chair too long. Not today. Not ever again. One thing to be happy about on top of the upcoming meeting with my family granted by the warden. After the conversation with Mom, I’d wheeled back to the Watch Tower to conduct research with the aim of staying off the warden’s radar.

Fate had repeatedly stolen everything that was important from me. My father. My family. My freedom. In a cruel twist of fucked-up fate, God, the universe, whatever, had taken my ability to move freely. A death sentence for a fit, active guy like me, who practiced physiotherapy. In the fire, I’d been reborn. A man who didn’t give a shit if I lived or died. Nothing could be worse than this.

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