Cell 22
G wing
New London Prison
15/10/02
Dear Lara Stone,
I am writing to you because my personal officer told me to, they have categorised me as ‘anti-social’ and think that it would be a good idea if I made some ‘friends’ while I was inside. So when you place and ad for a pen pal (which I’m sure wasn’t your idea either) they decided that it would be the perfect opportunity for me to find a playmate.
My name is Holly and I’m 29 (god, this feels like an English essay from school). I hear that you are a doctor like me so I suppose we should have a lot in common. I am in here for murder, I got ten years, but I didn’t do it (I know that’s what they all say but believe me- I didn’t do it). I was out walking in the local park one day and I saw a man bleeding to death on the side of the road, of course I ran across to help him but despite my best efforts I couldn’t save him. I called the police and I was left with a body, clothes covered in blood, a knife with my fingerprints on it and no one to testify for my innocence. No matter how often I said I was trying to help no one believed me- it’s that last time I play Good Samaritan, I can tell you. Worst day of my life, well, one of. Sorry that I’m not sounding very optimistic but this place does my head in and I’ve got one of the screws standing at the door checking on me every five seconds.
Before this I was a normal person. I had a boyfriend, a good job in A+E and I had friends. I had a life, believe it or not. But I’ve been in here for almost a year now ever since I got back from Germany (long story) and somehow it doesn’t feel real anymore, I hope I didn’t dream it. I’ll understand if you don’t write back, I’m only doing this so I don’t get in even deeper s**t.
Yours etc
Holly Miles
Cell 30
B Wing
New London Prison
20/10/02
Dear Holly,
I wasn’t going to reply. I didn’t think I needed to, I thought I could cope by myself but in here the days feel like weeks and the nights feel even longer so after a while even the best of people would get sick of their own company. If you were wondering about me I got three years for manslaughter. Three years for protecting myself against the scum that was trying to rape me. I got ‘involved’ when his wife was brought into A+E after being raped and losing her baby, she told me that her husband had raped her and being foolish and naive I thought I could help her. But I couldn’t. The prosecution made it sound like I had some kind of vendetta against the guy; they nearly convinced me so the poor jury didn’t stand a chance. No one believed me. But it was self-defence and, like you, I’m innocent. How do you cope? I’ve got another three years in this place and I don’t think I can go on knowing that where as you’ve got another nine to do! It must be so hard.
At the moment the only thing that’s keeping me going is the phone calls and visits from Dillon, I’m so grateful for any contact with the outside world and as ever he is wonderfully supportive. I would have hoped that more people from the hospital would have been in touch with me but I suppose they’re all busy, leading their own lives like I would be if I was out there and they were stuck in here. Have you stayed in contact with any of your old friends? Or even your family? Mine are stuck on the other side of the world (literally- I’m from Australia) and don’t even know I’m in here. Any way, I’m sure I’m boring you so I’ll stop.
From,
Lara
Cell 22
G Wing
New London Prison
21/10/02
Dear Lara,
Thank you for your letter. I really mean that, I’m going out of my head in here. It’s so hard being stuck in here day after day after day. You asked how I cope and I really don’t know, I suppose it’s the hope that one day I’ll wake up and it’ll all be a dream. No prison, no Germany, no Tom, Just me and… Sorry. It’s just a dream I have. Any way, who is this Dillon that you talk about? Is he your boyfriend? You seem to be very fond of him at any rate. I wish someone would visit me like that: it must be nice. My mum visits me whenever she can but she works so it’s only about once every two months. My sister sends me the occasional letter but apart from that, nothing. I’m living my life within these four walls. My boyfriend used to visit me but recently I don’t know what’s happened to him. No one from my old hospital knows I’m in here and I don’t think any of them care, not really. They all carry on with their busy, busy lives, happily believing that I’m sunning myself somewhere in Germany. And who am I too spoil their dream? But I really thought he was different, I really thought he cared. And now all I have is a faded photograph hanging on my wall and a great pain in my chest. Where is he? Not that you know.
Today I got a new job! I’m now working in the kitchen instead of licking envelopes, which I suppose is a step up in the world. It keeps my mind of things at any rate. I mean, you can’t fry chips and be a million miles away or you get your hands burnt. My cellmate got shipped out today after she got in a fight with one of the screws and it’s so scary being in here on my own. I’m sure that makes me sound like a coward but I don’t like being on my own, especially not when people keep staring at me through the peep hole, checking on me all night. I may sound paranoid but I’m not, it’s just that I was stalked a few years ago now and the fear has never gone away. I don’t suppose it ever will either. I can’t believe I’m opening up to you so much, I don’t even know you. I wish I did though; it would be nice to have someone to talk to on this wing rather than being the one no one likes. I’m not like them; I don’t think I ever will be either. Anyway, it’s lights out now so I’ll have to go.
Holly
Cell 30
B Wing
New London Prison
28/10/02
Dear Holly,
Me and Dillon!? That made me laugh. Sorry, you wont get the joke but if you knew me then you would know that he is not my type. I go for the tall, dark, handsome, doctor type. And Dillon is well… none of those things. I suppose he is cute in a kind of blonde nurse way. No, my boyfriend died in car crash. Dillon and me are just good friends. So I don’t really have anyone, not in that sense.
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