𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 ▸ 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲. prolonged punishment

~𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳, 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲, 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱~

'Because shoplifting is theft, which is a crime, and despite what you may believe, there is no such entity as victimless crime. Heroin addiction may explain your actions, but it does not excuse them. Mister Murphy, you are a habitual thief, devoid of regret or remorse.'

Spud, dopey as a lamb, innocently nodded.

'In sentencing you to six months imprisonment, my only worry is that it will not be long before we meet again. Mister Renton, I understand that you have entered a program of rehabilitation in an attempt to wean yourself away from heroin. The suspension of your sentence is conditional upon your continued cooperation with this program - should you stand guilty before me again, I shall not hesitate to impose a custodial sentence.'

Renton stared forward into his own dull future. His misty blue eyes unmoving, he said back into the void, 'Thank you, your honor. With God's help, I'll conquer this terrible affliction.'

Alan tugged on Lana's right arm. 'I really need to go toilet,' she complained.

'Alright,' Lana whispered as she backed away from the courtroom doors and the crack in the entrance that she'd been peaking through. 'We'll use the posh shitters and go back for lunch, eh?'

She did the calculations as they wandered back to the house. She'd traded one of the pill bottles to Swanney for a hit before picking up the kid that morning, swallowing a few pain killers on her way to take the edge off. She would need to go back there for a final hit before heading to Renton's to finish packing up for London. There, he would continue the methadone plan in a separate branch of the recovery program, thus evading any possible sentencing in Edinburgh.

The child dragged her along by the hand, completely oblivious to society outside the little world of her Auntie La-La and her strange words and medicines. She took Alan to a corner shop for fizzy sweets. On their way out, Lana's eyes subconsciously scanned around - perhaps for police, maybe for someone she was still trying to avoid. They found something infinitely worse - he sleazed along, spitting into gutters, following them relentlessly with wild, shifting pupils. Glasgow Jamie, in all his non-existent glory. A cutting quip stuttered through her thoughts, but the silence of all involved parties shoved it back into her wretched soul for safe-keeping. He simply observed them and stumbled away, exhibiting the exact mindlessness she'd expected of him.

Was she insulted that Mary had known about the divorce before her? Possibly. Lana thought long and hard about the matter - even when they'd settled down at home to a game of Scrabble diligently packed by Olivia Gardyns. From her perspective, Lana supposed she could understand why it was better having  a restrained wench knowing her dealings than one with the capacity to do harm with the knowledge.

Alan hummed in thought, looking down at the sparse board. 'That's not how you spell come.'

'Yeah, it is.'

'You don't get a lot of points for that, anyway.'

'Points? Are you keeping score?' She watched the little girl infatuated by the square, yellow tiles. 'Don't you want to play outside instead?'

'No. I used to play out, but Ma doesn't let me anymore. In case Daddy sees.'

Glasgow Jamie again? Just how messy was all this?

'I saw your Grandma the other week. Psycho radge that she is.'

Alan grinned delightfully. 'That's what Ma called her.'