The succeeding ten days saw Jackson almost constantly on edge, a result of the confrontation with Bubba. He was jumpy and often fell into bouts of depression. But Raquel tried to be patient with him. He understood the source of the youth's behavior and could see that Bubba was playing some kind of cruel waiting game with Jackson, driving the boy close to craziness, as he waited day after day, night after long night, for Bubba’s unwanted company.

There was another factor that had Jackson anxious, and that was his hearing. It was to be held on the following day. The outcome of it would reveal if, or when, he was to stand trial for the charges laid against him by his father.

Jackson wondered what the worst result could possibly be: he could well find himself being sentenced to several months in this hellhole, he realised. And with the likes of Bubba inhabiting the prison, carrying lurid desires, combined with the power games that went on, and the subsequent violence that accompanied them, Jackson doubted he could survive such a sentencing. He would rather die, as DeVito had died.

He hoped that the lawyer appointed to him by the court, a young man by the name of Andrew Webber, would be well versed enough in his field to ensure that such a sentencing could be avoided, and that the charges against Jackson were either dropped or dismissed. After tomorrow, he never wanted to set foot inside a prison ever again, and he wanted to be free of Bubba.

The positive side of this thought cheered him little on a day that had been otherwise bleak and tension ridden, like the last week or so had been.

However, later that same afternoon, Jackson received a visit from his solicitor, Andrew Webber, and all his earlier daydreams were dashed. Webber was a young man, in his late twenties, with a thin, adolescent face, bulging eyes and sandy hair. He had an aura of intelligence, conceitedness and ambition. He wasted little time in explaining to his client the situation, as the judge at the hearing would be most likely to interpret it.

Webber pointed out that it had been Jackson who had forced his way into the office of one of the most powerful and respected men in the country, and had proceeded to physically attack the man with a potentially lethal weapon, and then Jackson had fought off the security guards to renew the attack against Lloyd Crane; seeking to strangle him. There were reputable witnesses to substantiate Jackson's father's charges against him and little doubt that they would portray him in the grimmest light possible.

The fact that he was Lloyd Crane's son really had no bearing on things, as far as Webber could see it. In fact, it could well make things worse, unless of course he was prepared to elaborate a little more to Webber, and later to the judge, the nature of their relationship and the influence it had played in the attack Jackson had made on his father.

He refused outright to comply with this. There was no way he would confide in Webber. It didn't matter to Jackson if there was anything that might possibly help in the hearing. What Jackson knew about his father and his past, was for Jackson only. He somehow knew that there would be another time when he could use it to his advantage.

It was at this point in the discussion with Webber that Jackson resigned himself to the inescapable fact that he was going to have to spend sometime in prison, and face Bubba. It would be a test of his determination to survive.

After leaving Webber, he went outside to work in the prison's vegetable garden, along side of Toby, Spider, Skeeta, Louie and Raquel, doing his utmost to apply himself to the work and trying to avoid the certainty of failure that he felt in his soul: the sensation of being trapped.

Raquel worked cautiously at weeding a cabbage patch, not wanting to break any of his carefully manicured and brightly painted fingernails. Spider was muttering quietly to Skeeta about the escape he'd heard about, while he lazily hoed a nearby plot of dark earth.

Spider gave out no names, or at least Jackson heard none mentioned, but Spider implied that it was a large team of prisoners organising it, and that he, himself, was going to get in on their plans.

The small group of inmates listened to him, but no one commented. They all knew that Spider was a junkie who everyone in the prison detested, and no one trusted him. A band of inmates planning to escape would have nothing to do with scum like Spider.

Toby had a hose and was watering a row of seedlings, under the watchful eyes of a nearby warder. It was a pleasant enough day for working in the garden, and Toby seemed to be enjoying it very much. He was like a big, oversized kid and seemed relaxed and cheerful. He didn't care for the stringent discipline of the prison or its stonewalls, which always made him nervous, as if they were closing in on him. But the vegetable garden seemed so far away from that. And he was endlessly fascinated by the process by which plants grew.

Unfortunately, Toby was uncommonly cumbersome by demeanor and placed his massive feet on the rows of earth, squashing the tiny, struggling seedlings into the dirt.

Spider noted this, wasting little time in abusing the giant of a man, while the others gazed on the scene, with good humored expressions. Moving awkwardly, as if physically struck by Spider's abuse, Toby stumbled back and knocked Louie over, who in turn fell on Jackson, and Toby flattened them both into the muddy ground.

This managed to bring a sardonic grin, which quivered oddly, to Spider's lips. He found the sight of the two bloated bodies rolling about and over the top of the uppity Jackson Crane amusing; arms and legs were sprawled out every-which-way, amongst a furore of cries of pain, surprise and indignation.

Spider was giggling hysterically as Raquel and Skeeta went over to help a poor, sullen looking Toby back up to his feet, freeing Louie and Jackson, the latter of which had copped the worst of it all, having been pinned beneath the two gigantic men. Jackson stood on watery legs, covered from head to toe in black mud.

Toby looked ashamedly to Jackson, offering mute apologies with his cow-like eyes.

'Toby, you stupid great lump of shit!" cried Louie, wiping the mud of his clothes, but he was nowhere near as filthy as Jackson was.

Toby's jaw jammered up and down ineffectually, trying to ward off Louie's biting remarks. Jackson steadied Louie's attack.

"Cool it, Louie. It's okay. It was just an accident," Jackson said.

Louie shrugged and nodded.

"Sorry, mate," said Toby, looking completely miserable.

"No problems," Jackson replied.

While Spider was still snickering dizzily, Raquel suggested that Jackson go back into the prison and clean up before the evening muster. He agreed and approached the warder, asking for permission to go inside and take a shower. The warder, with a bemused expression on his face, nodded curtly.

A single warder stood inside the shower block, watching over Jackson as he washed the mud from his hair and skin. His bathrobe and towel lay on a long rectangular bench that filled up the middle of the shower block. It was made of wood and painted white and was effectively an island cast into the middle of the room.

Jackson's back was turned to the guard as his fingers massaged shampoo into his scalp, working up a rich lather that he then rinsed under the stream of warm running water. The water jets felt invigorating against his body, caressing his face, and then his back, as he slowly turned around under the shower for the pure enjoyment of the sensations.

A strange feeling swept through him, making his heart miss several vital beats. He opened his eyes, already sensing what they would discover: the guard was gone. In his place were Bubba and the Delvicchio brothers.

'

The door to the shower block was closed. Jackson was sealed in. There was no chance of escape, for the muscular twin brothers guarded the only exit like sinister sentinels.

Bubba smiled, his lips splitting to reveal yellowed teeth. His fat, grub-like tongue slipped out to lick his already glistening lips.

"Oh ...Jackson, my pretty child." The man's eyes scorched the youth's nakedness and swallowed him whole. "What pleasures I have in store for you...”

Jackson stepped towards the bench and snatched up his white towel, quickly covering himself. Bubba tilted his head in a show of mock disappointment.

"Come on, my pretty child. No need for modesty. You’re with friends," Bubba said in a voice that escaped on excited breaths.

Jackson opened his mouth to call out, but a gesture from one of Bubba’s hands indicated that it would be of no use, and so silenced him.

"Don't bother yelling. No one will come. I've left orders that we're not to be interrupted," Bubba explained. "We've got privacy in here..." He smiled even wider, like an evil toad, then moved purposefully to the boy, his depravity filling his face, flushing it red with hot blood and setting his eyes aglow.

Jackson was unable to move. He merely watched like a detached spectator, as Bubba closed the space between them. It was only at the sensation of Bubba’s fat, clammy hands pawing at Jackson's chest, then dropping to his waist, then to below his navel, seeking to go lower still, that his paralysis broke. He uttered a tight gasp and pulled back, filled with a determination that Bubba was not going to have him.

"Don't touch me again, you filthy piece of shit!" The boy yelled defiantly. Bubba, however, looked less than impressed by the youth's defiant display.

The Delvicchio brothers made their move; one going to either side of Jackson. He tried to evade them, while throwing wild and loose punches at them. They chuckled mockingly at his impotent attempts, and then Gino managed to pull away the towel Jackson had wrapped around his waist. With the towel gone and his nakedness exposed, he felt more vulnerable, and in that moment of hesitation, Gino grabbed one arm and Antoni took hold of the other.

He struggled helplessly between them, but achieved little for his efforts. Seeing that the twins had a secure hold on the youth, Bubba was satisfied that Jackson was in no position to inflict any harm, so Bubba walked up to him and let his sausage-like fingers explore the secrets of Jackson's body.

A soft, pathetic moan escaped from the boy's lips. His mind reeled at the assault. Bubba drew himself closer to the boy, pushing his groin against Jackson. The youth could feel the hardening warmth beneath Bubba’s pants and it made his stomach churn.

Bubba’s heavy, acrid breath blew warm and moist against his neck, then his chin, until it brushed Jackson's lips. Bubba kissed the squirming youth with animalistic hardness, prying the boy's mouth open and thrusting his fat, wet tongue into the deep warmth of Jackson's mouth.

Jackson thought he was going to vomit, and then before he even had time to think about what he was doing, Jackson brought his knee up, strong and fast, into Bubba’s swollen groin. The fat man broke off the kiss with a gasp and recoiled with a roar of pain and indignation, stumbling on jellied legs, cupping his aching and throbbing groin, his face reddening with rage and pain.

One of the Delvicchio brothers, Jackson wasn't sure which one, slapped his face with such tremendous ferocity that he thought that his head would be torn off his neck. Instead, Jackson fell to the floor, his mind spinning, his jaw aching from the blow.

In obvious agony, Bubba held his genitals in one hand tenderly as he approached the boy. His face was no longer filled with lust. It was now burning for revenge. It was at seeing this look in Bubba’s eyes that he realised how grave a mistake he had made. But surely it had been preferable to letting the bastard touch him?

"Pretty child," Bubba’s tone was chillingly ruthless. "You shouldn't have done that..." There was no customary smile on his face, just icy intent. "Now I'm going to have to hurt you, my pretty child." Bubba told him matter of factly.

The Delvicchio brothers seized Jackson, dragging him up from the floor, holding him firmly between them. Bubba clenched his fist and punched the boy in the stomach. He buckled over and cried out in pain, all the air in his body was forced out. Bubba wickedly brought his knee up into the boy's face. Blood spurted from the youth's nose and lip.

The twins relinquished their hold, allowing him to fall heavily onto the floor, face first. Jackson tried to pull himself back up, struggling to rise to his hands and knees, only to have Bubba kick him hard in the ribs for his agonised efforts.

Jackson yelped and collapsed over on his back. He could hardly see what was going on around him, but caught the blurred images of the three men standing above him. He felt one of them stick their foot into his side, using it to roughly turn him onto his stomach.

Bubba unzipped his fly, saying to the semiconscious boy: "I'm going to fuck that sweat little are of yours, my pretty child, so hard you won't be able to walk for a month...”

Jackson felt Bubba’s thick cock as it stabbed and burnt into him. Bubba’s entering him scorched and sickened him. He cried out for him to stop, feeling fire spread up through his body. He begged for Bubba not to do it, but the man wouldn't cease for even scarcely a breath as he used Jackson's body to feed his lusts.

He wasn't to be satisfied with raping him once, but three times in surprisingly rapid succession ...or at least it seemed rapid to Jackson. He couldn't really be sure of how long he'd been there, lying on the floor of the showers.

Jackson couldn't feel time, only the fierce and brutal frenzy of aggressive passion, which Bubba was pumping into him. Even when Bubba was empty and had withdrawn from Jackson, the horrendous pain still coursed through the youth's body, his sensitive passage feeling as if it had burst into flame.

The water from the shower continued to rain down on the battered youth, as it had done throughout the ordeal.

"My pretty, pretty child..." Bubba’s voice seemed to boom within his aching head and muddled mind. "That was good. Nice and tight ...just how I like it. You sure are sweet meat. Just don't make me have to hurt you next time...”

Jackson moaned piteously, not just from his physical wretchedness, but because of Bubba’s last two words, which echoed over and over in his head: " …Next time ...Next time...”

He broke into new tears which became lost in the waters from the shower, and it seemed to him that he could feel his body wriggling with every kind of filth imaginable. He heard their footsteps bounce and echo, out of the shower block, leaving him alone. He opened his eyes.

It seemed as if hours had passed. The entire horrific ordeal had appeared to have been stretched out over a day -or an eternity. What was the difference?

He looked around at the tiles on the floor in front of him, unable to lift his head more than an inch off the ground.

The shower spat down on him. He saw a stream of his own blood mix with the water, and watched it gurgle around the drain and disappear. Somewhere, a numbing spot of blackness was invading his mind, and the blackness was growing and consuming all of his senses and his spirit.

He slipped from consciousness into a sightless, senseless void of nothing; pain did not enter there. He liked the blackness. He hoped he would never stir from it - ever.