‘Aren’t you happy, Tommy?’ He didn’t sound as if he was happy. More like he was angry.
He didn’t reply. Instead, very roughly, he shoved her back onto the bed, hoisted up her nightgown and took her in one or two painful thrusts that felt as though they were ripping her apart - much, she thought, as a bull would take a cow. He grunted once, breathing whiskey fumes into her face as his seed trickled down her thigh, mingled with the slick of blood. Then he then rolled off her and almost immediately began to snore like a freight train.
Molly was mortified that her wedding night – no worse, her wedding bed - would end up being so horrible. Shivering, she crept to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. Then she slid beneath the bedclothes beside the sprawled-out figure of her husband, and waited silently for dawn to come.
She didn't have the opportunity to talk about the belling the next morning with Tommy or her father, because they left for work immediately after wolfing down a quick breakfast. After they left, she busied herself around the house, all the time thinking about what might happen in bed that night. She had a very nice dinner ready shortly after her father and Tommy arrived from work. As they ate, her father and Tommy talked about sheriffing events of the day, but most of the discussion was about the wedding and, especially, the feast.
Then it was time to go to bed and to face her second sexual encounter with her new husband.
She was very apprehensive - even more than she had been on her wedding night.
Her fears turned out to be justified. After getting into bed, they lay in silence for a while. Then in a sudden movement Tommy rolled on top of her, humped and sweated on her for several minutes, and then rolled off her to quickly fall asleep.
It was a terrible and painful experience, much worse than the night before. There was no caressing, no love talk, no gentleness … only Tommy's grunting and groaning, followed by his obnoxious snoring.
Chapter 5
* * *
The Prisoner
* * *
Real courage is when you’re licked before you begin,
But you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.
To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
Immediately after the trial, Charlie was transported from the jail to the State Penitentiary, to spend the rest of his life in prison.
It took several days to be processed into the prison, and several more days to be integrated to prison life and prison routine. On the first day, he was assigned to a cell, where at first he was the sole occupant. After a physical examination by the prison doctor, he was issued with clothing, shoes, bedding, toiletries and a stack of papers. These included prison rules, regulations and procedures and the penalties and punishments for breaking them; descriptions of prison facilities, and opportunities for employment, education, recreation and hobbies.
He spent the first night lying on an unmade bed, staring at the white-washed wall and wondering, over and over and over, how he had come to be here.
On the second day, he met with the warden.
‘You’re our youngest inmate,’ Warden Kelly informed him. ‘That could make life difficult for you in here. Yes,’ he said in response to the obvious question on Charlie’s face, ‘even more difficult than having to spend the rest of your days in incarceration. Plenty of older guys in here might see you as sport. Fair game. And of course, there’s nothing fair about it.’
The warden circled the table and perched on the edge nearest Charlie, looking at him in pretty much the same way that Mr Adams had regarded him – sadly, as if he’d seen too much of life and didn’t want to expose a youngster to it all at once.
After a while he let out a sigh.
‘You see, Charlie,’ he said gently, rifling through the sheaf of papers that Charlie had needed to sign, ‘there are two ways to consider your life in prison. On the one hand, you can see it as pure punishment for the wrongdoing you perpetrated, and if that’s what you feel, then every day will be a living hell for you, young man. A living hell, for the rest of your life.’
Charlie nodded, understanding completely. He was a good Catholic boy; he’d known about Hell since he was tiny. ‘What’s … what’s on the other hand, sir?’
‘I’m glad you asked.’ Warden Kelly smiled approvingly. ‘On the other hand … you can see this as a chance to improve yourself. There’s nothing to say your education must stop, or your learning. You’re an intelligent young man, despite your obvious lapse in judgment. I would encourage you to make the best of your imprisonment by taking advantage of the many opportunities offered by the prison. I’m really quite proud of our facilities, and I’d be even more pleased if someone were to make the very best of them.’