Primeval Scream

“Mr. Scott, Sergeant Trueman said you can have this!” Constable Smythes’ voice sang as a tray was placed on the shelf on the door to my cell. I sat up and looked. Ah that’s what she means; I grinned to myself, a newspaper. Whenever I’m not sure I grin, I always have, well almost always... The habit really began when I was 10, Joanne my mentor advised me if I weren’t sure about something that I should take a deep breath and smile, she added, this would help me relax and make others feel good, (indeed as I soon discovered it made her feel good and sent a message to me… well two messages, the first she liked my smile and the second I was doing what she wanted and she was in control). As to the advice, well, I’m not too sure how good this advice was as it seems to have landed me in hot water many times over the years. Then, although I am very good at the smile bit of an expert really, I’m not quite as good at grinning as she was. I can remember the way she would look at the Head, flick her long jet black locks and smile – she could get him to agree to almost anything and he wasn’t the only one… The smell of: bacon, sausage, egg and chips was too much for me, I grabbed the tray, picked up the paper, sat on the one piece of furniture in sterile cell, the bed, and gobbled the lot down. Then, I swallowed the dessert, an iced doughnut with hundreds of thousands on and washed the lot down with a large mug of very sweet hot chocolate. Putting down the tray, I missed the bed and it clashed on the red concrete floor, it landed right side up – lucky day I thought. Then it usually is, lucky that is, my mother said I was born that way, lucky and she would know she could always see the future, unless well unless it involved her. I remember her tossing her long black locks telling us once, her mother couldn’t see her future and the same was true for her as it was for everyone with the gift. My attention moved to the paper, which was the real treat, papers were usually old in here and rarely thrown away, I had four, but this was today’s! This was a police station with a twist, it had a remand centre too, you could see the Crown Court from the car park and the High Security Prison. As I unfolded the paper, I lay back on my bed, instinctively turning to the back page. Don’t know why I did that, it’s something I’ve done all my life – Perhaps I did it because, I can remember, one of the few happy memories I have of my dad, him reading the sports reports out to me every week with such expression. He told me that reporters would write stories about me too when I was famous. I’m sure it’s the reason I was always too competitive in sport at school – I always had to be the best and when I wasn’t, well I wasn’t a good loser shall we say and leave it at that. This almost always meant I was overlooked for teams, too much of a risk. Turning to the back of the paper is a habit I can’t get out of even though my dad well he’s been dead since I was seven and a half – and that’s 9 years ago now, still old habits die hard. Silly really since football season doesn’t start for a few weeks yet and it’s the only sport I really follow, and my team - The Black Cats. Still there is often transfer news or predictions about the coming season and our enemies The Magpies! As I turned the paper over I screamed! Not any scream, a real Primeval Scream! Yes I seem to have always known what a primeval scream was and how to use it to control and to hide… well I can remember the training I was given to use it when I was about 9. Funnily enough, I remembered just then, my best ever teacher didn’t agree with it, everyone else did! I think perhaps that he was the one that was right now. I once overheard him speaking to Mrs. Smith, (Di his assistant), about it, I could see he was in tears, my smile worked then I can remember it now. “Hello Mr. K,” I let the words sing out as I knew the class would be in the hall last session on a Friday for assembly, at least I missed that. “Good session mate?” He chirped back. We both knew we were now acting a scene out and neither of us would believe a word of it. “Yea, I got rid of a lot of anger today and we talked about the thing you suggested.” “Ah what did Andrew say then?” How could I tell him? Mr. K knew me better than anyone and I can say now with a real degree of certainty the only advice he gave me was good and it always worked. “Andrew said I have to work through my anger even though it hurts.” Mr. K looked at Mrs. Smith, and added, “Well he must know the best way forward – don’t you think?” The room fell silent in disbelief, but we were both saved from continuing the conversation by the class returning, it was a subject that was never far from the surface though. When I think now, I know that Mr. K was the only person who really understood me. I remember hearing Di questioned him once in the teachers planning room, obviously I was somewhere I should not have been, about me I can recall her most probing question, “Will he ever be ordinary?” I still remember the way she gasped at Mr. K’s …