TAMING THE TIGER

by Tony Anthony

(Excerpt)

 

Shane D'Souza was barely recognisable. The guards scraped him off the cell floor and laid his mangled body on a dirty stretcher. He had been beaten, battered, cut, raped and ruined in every way. Pools of blood formed great purple patches on cold concrete. The trail of mutilation snaked its way down the dark corridor as they carried him off to the hospital wing. The small gathering of men shuffled away. We all knew who was guilty of the assault on the young Sri Lankan. No one said a word. The authorities didn't care. There'd be one less con - fylakismenos they called us - on B-wing, another would soon take his place. There'd be no inquiry, no punishment for the attacker. No justice for my friend.

 

It was just another day in Nicosia Central Prison. We were murderers, drug pushers and smugglers, gangsters, child abusers, thieves, rapists, terrorists and fraudsters: a miserable mixed bag of human depravity; the meanest of the mean and the downright unlucky, tossed together in a stinking hot-pot of a Cypriot jail.

There were many rules, but they weren't the ones laid down by the authorities. We each lived by a code of violence, necessary for self-preservation. You always had to watch your back. It was every man for himself and blood was often spilled for little more than recreation. Still, there was something of an alliance between me and Shane. When I saw what had happened, it triggered a dark and dangerous rage inside me.

Al Capone - or 'Alcaponey', as the Greeks called him was a nasty piece of work. No one knew his real name. He was one of the mentally deranged, the criminally insane. The courts didn't bother with asylums; they just abandoned their madmen among the rest of us. They were a law unto themselves. Alcaponey was one of the worst. A barbaric Cypriot, he was a loner, who barely spoke his own language. Serving time for murder and multiple rape, he was a grade one psychopath. Whilst the rest of us occupied our time with drug use, petty theft (primarily cigarettes and chocolate, which were the main form of currency), and occasional arts and crafts, Alcaponey spent his days mutilating and raping other inmates. He was a lifer on a mission to make a living hell for the rest of us.

On the day Shane was brutalised, I vowed his vengeance would be mine. Alcaponey was a good foot taller than me. He pushed weights and his arms were as thick as my thighs, but I knew I could have him. I knew I could kill him with my bare hands and make him suffer for every blow, every stinking sordid deed, every drop of Shane's blood.

In the days ahead, a hushed anticipation hung over the jail. Everyone knew I was after Alcaponey. It wouldn't be pretty.

 

Published by Athentic

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