Moments of tenderness are few inside a male prison institution. That is not because Jails have an insufficiency of love, compassion, companionship and many other things we take for granted when we are cared for. It is a gross oversimplification of a massively complex psychological maze, more because there is so much need, that care must be shared among so many in dire need, that those working or living in the environment who do care, and many do, would be sucked dry by the great "Compassion Sponge". Many crack under that burden anyway; staff and inmates. Most develop some sort of safety valve in order to limit the effect of the grief around generated by so many shattered lives. Most of the inmates fucked up their own lives somehow but what is left still has needs that go beyond shelter, food and water.
Word got back to the lifer unit, via the hospital cleaners that Ellis was admitted in a semi conscious state following his "Interview" in security. This was enough to lay suspicions about Ellis' relationship with the security department but curiosity spawned rumour like wildfire as tongues wagged and hasty conclusions were jumped to. No-one got near to guessing the truth and no-one was going to get to hear it from the perpetrators.
Phillip Goodall, by now used to the shelter afforded by such a powerful cellmate grew anxious when Ellis did not return to the wing. On one level he was concerned for Ellis' well being when he learned that what had started out as an interview in security ended in hospital. The deep truth had not emerged, just the drama on the surface. Goodall was a long term survivor in institutions and instinctively, selfishly, he feared what might happen to him if Doug didn't come back and..." what would the new man to share his cell be like?"
Meanwhile, in one of those rare moments of tenderness, Ellis was carefully and sensitively examined in the hospital that night, the external tissue trauma recorded and a report made. Mysterious injuries and even deaths occur inside secure institutions with alarming frequency and staff at all levels are expected to give evidence on what occurred but also to close ranks to protect the reputation of the "Service" (including the criminal actions of individuals) as well as the institution. The nature of such an incidence of obvious brutality requires that some evidence was recorded, if someone started hurling allegations, plausibility and concrete proof was the best defense. However, this document was not placed with others detailing the date and time of Ellis' admission. In fact, nobody but the maker of the report and Ellis, who still appeared to be unconscious at the time of its making, would know that such an examination had taken place. After 36 hours, when Ellis returned to the lifer unit and the simple record of his admission mysteriously disappeared, Singleton could be satisfied that nobody would be able to demonstrate what had happened if questions were asked. Though it would not incriminate Singleton nor Dursley, at least the hospital could be assured that if and when the shit hit the fan, they would not be in the firing line. What is more, the needs of a damaged human being were met with skill and compassion directly, even if one potential pathway to justice was well disguised.
Doug Ellis would not have expected to draw on the good will of hospital staff as witnesses even if he had intended to press charges. This had been, by no means, the most serious physical abuse he had suffered, though it ranked high in the rating of sexual abuse meted out to him. Thanks mainly to his extraordinary control of the situation, his injuries were superficial and nobody understood anger management better. He was serving a full life term for a premeditated act of revenge and his life could be made so much worse by a program of protest, even through proper channels, which may or may not eventually lead to judicial redress. Getting even had got him 'life'. So, along with everything else, he filed it away.
The ego of Frank Singleton was far too great to be much troubled by concerns about overstepping the mark with Ellis and as usual Dursley was off somewhere, admiring his ripped muscularity in any passing reflection, be it shop window or the glossy paintwork of a car he admired almost as much. Arrogant and vain, the pair of them but Dursley wasn't watching who was watching him and was too thick skinned, too pumped full of testosterone to realise he was expendable, even vulnerable. He'd grown used to the 'shock and awe' effect his body had on women and men alike and thanks to Singleton's little training sessions, he was always hungry for the high which Singleton himself derived from totally dominating physically powerful people.
Men in the prison, resented Dursley but occasionally there would be one who risked the fuming, violent, masculine aura of the man for a chance to improve their lot. Dursley would pimp these men around the landings at night. If they wanted his body, they would often settle for satisfying someone else for a small reward. Those who wouldn't do sexual favours often carried the little deliveries he wanted done of contraband he'd bring in from contacts arranged by Singleton on the outside. As a regular officer, with little seniority and considerable distrust, he could not just roam the prison and needed 'trustees' collaboration to get his smuggled items to their destinations. However, there was one inmate, eyeing up Dursley on a regular basis, had used the privilege of his daily duties to see every inch of that extraordinary sculpted, tanned and tattooed body over and over again, as the man tortured his sinews in the prison gym and then as he luxuriated under the shower afterwards.
Alun Dent, one of the gym orderlies, carefully made sure nobody else noticed his minute examinations, as with great effort he restrained his salivating, the pumping of his blood and intense pressure in his temples. Dent himself was a fanatical addict to exercise, his small frame was tightly packed with hard powerful muscle and for his size he was immensely strong. He trained for strength, not for beauty, he used no enhancement, his muscle grew tightly packed and powerful just from working again and again with the weights. The feeling was so strong in him when the effort came close to tearing his muscle fibre and when, in recovery they once again made him aware of his physique, that he understood his addiction completely. He didn't mind a bit when Dursley left the biggest dumbbells all round the place, Dent liked a tidy tight and compact gym that reflected him personally. Several times per week Dent was left in the gym after the prisoners were taken back to their cells, locked down with the weights he would deep clean and make the tatty old tiles of the shower their best as if it were part of him. Then, on a regular basis he would be alone with the phenomenon that was Lee Dursley as the swaggering bully arrived for his workout.
Around the institution, Dent was nicknamed "wolf man" or "little wolf" , as the extraordinary pelt of dark hair that ran unkempt down his back and across his shoulders and frothed excessively from under his prison issue white tee shirt contrasted starkly with his pale skin. It got him noticed and was a badge of masculinity that his small stature denied him and it disguised like a camouflage net, the artillery of his compact musculature. In another way, 5 feet 4 inches and hung, Dent is unusual, but really hung.
