Dying to Live

Chapter 27 - The Visitor

I'm huddled in the darkest corner of a prison cell in Thailand, Bang Kwang prison in Bangkok to be precise. The bone-chilling iciness of the night air is draining my life away. My body shivers violently in a last-ditch attempt to generate enough warmth to keep me alive but the freezing stone floor sucks heat away faster than I can produce it. Standing might be warmer but after the beatings, the cold, and no food, I can't find the energy to get up.

My trial's over and they found me guilty. My defence council tells me there's no appeal process although I'm pretty sure he's lying. He knows I did the crime and he seems to believe westerners deserve to be harshly punished when they break the law in this land.

They sentence me in a week's time, maybe three, maybe ten. I'm expecting the death penalty.

A month ago, I was a middle manager with a booze problem. What I'd give right now for a booze problem. Now my life is the daily horror which goes along with being an inmate in one of the world's toughest prisons.

I've already witnessed my fair share of terrors including my day-one thumb rape. That incident got me a nickname – Tu or 'tu est Tu' as Frenchie would say – apparently the T-U stands for Thumbs Up so it's a constant reminder of my disgusting initiation. Now I just drift through day after day of dehumanising random violence, extended periods of isolation followed by long spells of overcrowding and lack of privacy. The juxtaposition of segregation and total congestion is horrifying, I could probably get used to one or the other but adapting to the mixture is impossible and just adds to my abject misery.

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The uninvited sunlight streams through the window and wakens me from an uneasy sleep. There are no curtains to pull in this God-forsaken place. Nightmares haunt me night after night and leave me shivering and shaking in their wake. My body is getting used to waking up in a puddle of sweat, burning up and freezing simultaneously. I'm barely conscious when the cell door crashes open. Two guards stand by the doorway, truncheons drawn.

"Visitor here. Come."

Apart from my lawyer and some insignificant clerk from the British Embassy, nobody's visited me. Is it one of them again? Unlikely, these people always make appointments, so I know when they're coming. Could it be Hazel, back to save me? Hope bubbles up in my stomach, even though I know I'm never going to see her again, bitch, but something unusual is happening. Sweat trickles down my face. Not the clammy sweat caused by the damned heat in this place, this country, this is a nervous sweat. Goose bumps break out all over my arms and the hairs tingle.

They lead me down corridor after corridor. The stench of human sweat, excrement and urine fills my nostrils, only the smell of vomit is missing and I might sort out that shortfall any second now. Bile rises in my throat. I can't swallow so I spit, only to be rewarded with a painful crack across my back from a guard's truncheon.

"Stop. No spitting."

We arrive at a metal door. The sign says something in Thai, I recognise the word 'room', which isn't a lot of help. One of the warders pushes open the door and propels me into the room.

I stop, stunned, I can't believe what I'm seeing.

"Marty, my God, you're the last person I expected."

The guard releases me from my cuffs but my leg shackles stay on. The door slams behind me and I'm alone with my best friend in the whole world.

"Marty, holy fuck, you've no idea how happy I am to see you. When did you arrive in Thailand? How did you afford the trip, you're always skint? Thank you for coming."