Page 77 of Butterfly

It faded as soon as Captain walked by.

Not for the first time, Ollie wished Rory was there.

Rory clearly had some kind of relationship with his cellmate Sebastian while they were both inside. The bond they’d formed was so intense that they’d continued a relationship on the outside too.

They got their happy ending.

Ollie wasn’t going to get his with Teddy.

“Linton,” Seinfeld called. “Time to see your barrister.”

Ollie glanced over his shoulder to Teddy leaning by their cell. Teddy gave him an encouraging nod.

“You’d better hope he doesn’t charge by the minute,” Seinfeld muttered.

Ollie picked up the pace, crossing the wing. He followed close behind Seinfeld as he was led through gates and corridors.

“In here,” Seinfeld said, opening a door.

Ollie stepped inside. It was bare. There was a table with two chairs in the centre of the room, and that was it. Howard was sat on one side of the table. He didn’t stand when Ollie arrived; he didn’t even look up from his laptop, but he did point at the chair opposite him.

Ollie sat down, fidgeting with his fingers under the table.

Along with the laptop, there was a file on the table, so full Howard had barely managed to close it.

“Mr Linton,” he said, finally looking up. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He had thick salt-and-pepper hair, blue eyes, and bifocal glasses.

“Nice to meet you too.” Ollie glanced at the folder. “What’s that?”

“Everything your brother has provided me with.” Howard smiled. “Statements from him, teachers, parents, your boss, ex-girlfriends of your father’s, your father’s former friends. It paints a picture.”

“Of what?”

“Your father’s behaviour when under the influence of alcohol, and also the suspicions of abuse from those who knew you.”

“Suspicions?”

Howard flipped open the folder, then searched through it. “For example. This is a statement from Mr Trent.” He peered at Ollie through his glasses. “I believe he was your PE teacher from the age of twelve until sixteen?”

Ollie nodded. “That’s right.”

“In his statement, he writes you regularly had multiple unexplained bruises, and whenever he questioned you over them, you told him to mind his own business.”

“I probably used stronger language than that.”

Howard snorted. “There’s no physical evidence they were your father’s doing, only suspicion.” He stared at Ollie. “Were they from him?”

Ollie looked around the room. There were no weirdly titled books or orcs to look at.

“Ollie?”

“Yes.” He bounced his leg on the floor. “They were from him.”

“It’s hard for you to admit that, isn’t it?”

Ollie nodded.

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