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a steak at Joe’s tonight?’
    ‘What about Mom?’
    ‘Eh, she’s got her stitch and bitch class on tonight.’ I hesitate, not sure if I want to open myself up that much yet. There’s one thing going back to work, a place where I can be in my own head all day and not really have to deal. Going out for a meal and a sociable chat is another ballgame altogether. He can sense my reluctance. I guess the silence says it all.
    ‘Please, Mercy.’
    ‘Okay,’ I say, caving under the weight of a father who cares just as he should about his emotionally damaged daughter.
    ‘See you at seven.’ He hangs up, a glimmer of peace in his otherwise strained voice. I put the telephone back in its cradle, ready to leave my demons locked up in the house for the day while I go and earn a dollar.
    The drive over to Silverwater doesn’t take long. Despite the dark clouds and miserable weather, traffic is light at this time of the morning. Walking from the parking lot to the main gates gives me a chance to have the biting, icy wind sting my cheeks for a bit. It feels nice. It hurts, don’t get me wrong, but it reminds me that I’m still alive. Still lucky, not like— No! I have to forget about him while I’m here, I promised myself that.
    The guard at the checkpoint booth notes my uniform and offers his hand out for my identification tag. I give it to him without a word, which he scans, waiting for the approval beep from the machine.
    ‘Head on over to the main office, they’ll process you there.’ He jerks his thumb in the general direction of the building.
    ‘Thanks.’ I take my identification back off him and make my way to the main entry. There I’m met by a blast of too-warm air and a lady manning the front desk with entirely too much makeup. She obviously doesn’t see the inside bowels of this place. She’s a desk jockey. Too old, too fat and a face full of cosmetics that looks like it’s been blown by a shotgun onto her face. It’s certainly not the complimentary amount that the delicate hand of a much younger woman would use.
    She looks me over with the same disinterest the guy out front did. I’m glad, because I don’t want to be her friend either. I offer her my credent ials, which she scans and pushes back towards me.
    ‘Through the metal detectors, honey , and then down the hall to the warden’s office. He’s expecting you,’ she says, voice nasally and phlegmy, marred by years of smoking.
    I follow her instructions, taking my jacket off so it can go through the x-ray machine on the conveyer belt while I walk through the arches of the metal detector. After the guard manning it is comfortable I’m not carrying a gun, he lets me past.
    I know where Reginald Haylock’s office is from the day I came to in terview. He’s a bit of a greaseball, but I know he runs a tight ship, which makes his own personal shortcomings easier to overlook when he’s professionally adept. You have to be in command and competent in this kind of environment or the prisoners will eat you alive. It’s like walking the beat; it can be unpredictable and downright dangerous, so it’s best to walk around with eyes in the back of your head.
    The door is closed, so I rap loudly with my knuckles.
    ‘Come in.’ The warden’s voice is muffled through the oak. I let myself in and approach his desk. I’m eager to be out of the confines of his office and working my shift.
    ‘Ah, Mercy, take a seat.’ He smoothes his hair into place and peers at me with his beady little eyes. He reminds me of a guinea pig I had as a child, all belly and rodent looking. The thought amuses me. I can just see him eating his lunch, face twitching while he tucks into a piece of cheese or something. Thankfully I’m such a fucking miserable mess or I’m sure I would be smirking by now.
    ‘How are you today?’
    ‘Fine, thank you.’
    ‘Good, good. Let me get straight to business then, since I’m sure you’re eager to get settled into your role here at