Something Quite Beautiful Read Online Free PDF Page B

boring?’
    ‘Both probably.’
    A few hours later, in the early evening, Warren lay on his bed, staring at the concrete ceiling with its strip light, and considered Keegan’s words. He knew exactly what he would do with his twenty-four hours: he’d rock up at Weavers Row and put the key in the lock, just like any normal day. He’d have a cup of tea and some toast and spend time in the front room chatting to Amy, catching up, maybe explain why he was convicted and give her some advice about how to have a brighter future than him. He thought about the next twenty years, doing the sums over and over. He was seventeen, so in twenty years he would be thirty-seven and that was nearly forty. Forty. A whole lifetime spent in this shitty cell, breathing second-hand air that had already been breathed by more than three hundred stinking blokes, without feeling a breeze against his skin or the sun on his face. He wanted to open a window; not necessarily to escape, but to drink in deep gulps of air unfiltered by a pipe and vent. And Amy, sweet, sweet Amy. By the time he got out she would be beyond his reach: married, maybe with kids. It was unthinkable. She would have a life that excluded him, a life in which he didn’t figure. The Warren-shaped wound in her mind and heart would have healed over like skin and it would be as if he had never existed for her. Without warning a sharp pain spread across his chest. It felt like a band being tightened and caused him to cry out, he could feel his heart racing. He slammed against the metal-panelled wall and placed his hands against his breast bone. He bucked and pummelled on his bed and started shouting, ‘I can’t breathe! Help me, I can’t breathe!’ He kicked out, and heard the metallic ring as his foot made contact. The ceiling seemed to be getting closer and Warren sweated profusely as he fought for breath. The light above his cell door flashed red and emitted a whining pulse.
    It was only a minute or two before a guard and a medic were by his side.
    ‘Relax, just relax.’ A gangly, bespectacled medic wearing white scrubs was trying to calm Warren down.
    ‘I can’t... fucking... breathe!’
    The man took Warren’s pulse and placed his hand on his chest,
    ‘It’s okay, Warren, you are having a panic attack and I know it’s frightening, but it will pass and so the sooner we can calm you down, the sooner this will be over, there is nothing to worry about, try and breathe deeply, pal. It’s okay, it’ll pass. You are going to be okay.’ The man’s tone was measured and soothing, unlike the guard who stood by the open door with a suspicious expression and a finger that twitched near the inside of his shirt, just in case. He had seen and heard enough in his time to know that trust was not an option.
    Warren slowed his breathing and tried to remain calm. Amy’s face came into focus; she looked at him with indifference and without the faintest hint of recognition. Forty... forty... a lifetime . Warren felt a surge of energy that started in his feet and swept his body, he felt strong, empowered, but above all, he felt angry. With a roar he leapt from the bed and, using his elbow, he landed a blow in the solar plexus of the unsuspecting medic who lurched backwards and crashed to the floor. He sat, dazed, his back against the wall, clutching his chest. The guard acted quickly. With his gun drawn and cocked, he sprinted forward and put the muzzle against the boy’s temple. Warren could feel the cold press of metal against his skin. His stomach turned to ice as it shrunk around his bowel. He sank down onto the mattress. ‘I’m sorry,’ he wailed, calmer now that his breathing had returned to a regular pattern. ‘I don’t know what happened, I just felt so angry, I’m sorry.’ Warren Binns was terrified. He did not want to die.
    The guard kicked at his shins with the heavy toe of his boot and pointed with the barrel of his weapon. In seconds Warren was flat on the floor of his