I’m lying on my bed in the position in which the cell’s previous occupiers now lie six feet under, in the cemetery three hundred yards to the north. I stare at the tattooed walls, my body riveted with boredom, my solemn face not moving as my mind works faster than it ever has. Out of the blue washed walls and dirty scrawls, leaps forth the vivid images that have disturbed and perverted my mind… ‘He’s stood there in front of me, his sweaty breath smothering my face, his grip on my left arm, our sweat intermingling on my bruised forearm.

His hold on my throat never ceasing as he drives his thumb ever deeper into my throat. My brain clears, the key to it, the rubber grip now clasped tightly in my right hand behind my foe’s back. Faster than my mind, I draw the implement that slept, sheathed in the drenched trouser back, and brought it around to my front. The words of ‘Jerusalem’ start drifting through my now relentless mind, I see no other option, my adrenaline pumped body now set into the killer instinct, the power of my once savage ancestors bursting through me forcing my arm to surge forward in an unstoppable thrust.

My movement only stopping as the hilt blocked my path straight through his body, the black bulge at the forefront of the handle now resting in the groin of its new home. ‘ I blink and for a split-second my eyes strike reality again, then I slip back from the world into my mind… ‘I stare into his eyes, insanity swelling up inside my chest, searching for the look of pain but all I can find is his cold pupils staring back at me set in his blank face. Then I feel it, the hot blood spilling out over my burning hand. What feels like spurts splashing against my lower body.

I relax, so does he, I am free, and I clutch my throat, it’s aching in my hands. His eyes never leave mine, yet his hands, trembling drop down to his wound. He fumbles and fondles over the cause of the pain now stuck in his artery. I stand and stare motionless, helpless a queer sense of achievement now set inside my endorphin pumped body. He stumbles back, one hand holding the handle of his weapon, the other out behind himself waiting to break his fall. Sweat is cooling on my forehead, I am cold, yet hot. ‘ I can feel the cold sweat on my hot body, my clothes are sticking to me, and I wipe my head with my sleeve.

Unable to control my mind, I am drawn back into my nightmare… ‘He lies there, his mouth projecting clouds of condensation, his blood steaming in the cold evening air, I sit down beside him, a feeling of superiority and victory rests calmly in me. My mind wonders, filled with something that is nothing. Then the words to ‘Jerusalem’ drift into my head… ‘ My mouth is moving, subconsciously something is moving it. I listen, ‘… Walk upon England’s mountains green,’ the words echo in my cell leaving an eerie silence before my mouth opens again… I look down to my victim, he looks back at me, his eyes twitching from side to side scanning, searching me, as if asking for help. I feel naked in front of him. I cannot hide, his eyes seem to pour guilt into me. The silence is filled as I move down next to him, drawing my knees up into my chest and wrapping one arm around my tired limbs. Using the other to cup his head, a faint trace of a smile itches at the corners of his mouth, but is succumb to a wince of pain and the smile fades as fast as it arrived.

I continue to look at him, sorrow and guilt eventually touching me. As if psychic, he lifts his head, nods, closes his eyes and rolls over. He places one hand under his head, the other covers the knife, still protruding from his groin. I stare on unbelievingly. He curls up into the foetal position, and leaves as he came… ‘ My cheeks are still hot, as the cool tears crawl down my face. I wait expectantly for the nightmare to continue. It doesn’t. I lay there for an eternity, still waiting for the next flashback to be born into my mind. It never comes.