Another night slips away. I’m not ashamed of what I did but I am afraid of what is coming. The stiffness of new bedsheets pins me still. A bluish haze tinges the dark in the room, occasional sounds from machines pierce the silence.
Mr Cooper’s coarse features, never far from a scowl or grimace, took on an angry expression.
‘Where’s Jean this morning?’ he said to his team who were busy setting up their workstations.
Worried glances were exchanged. Iain broke the tense silence: Continue reading “The Victory – by Steve Luckham”