Lost Innocence: The Accused. Part One Read online

  I was struck again – it stung. I turned my head to face ‘High’ and felt the tip of his manhood rub up against my lower-lip. My mouth stayed shut. I closed my eyes and braced myself – nothing happened.

  I heard some Thai spoken but it wasn’t from my attackers, it was in a softer tone. I opened my eyes and saw a farang was now sat on the floor next to me. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to the Thais. ‘High’ pulled up his shorts, snatched the whole pack then strolled away with ‘Black Teeth.’

  The farang turned to me, raised his hand to my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Are you alright?”

  I sat there still shaking. “I will be.”

  “Take a minute to calm down.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “No problem mate. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Michael.” I reached out my hand to his. He took it and shook it. “I’m John.”

  He had a sympathetic, honest look about him, fair hair, deep brown eyes and a small, firm build. I guessed by the light wrinkles on his forehead and the occasional grey hair that he was in his forties.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “I was moved from another cell.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Ten years. Have you just arrived?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “It takes time to adjust.”

  “How has it been for you?”

  “Tough. The heat, the lack of decent food and never enough water, I was ready to give up.”

  “What got you through it?”

  “I met a guy who introduced me to Buddhism. It showed me a new appreciation of life.”

  “Sounds like a worthwhile religion.”

  “It’s not a religion if you follow it right. It’s kept me alive. Have you ever tried meditation?”

  “I can’t say I have.”

  “It will calm you; help distract you for a while. Would you like to try?”

  “I guess we have time.”

  “We have nothing but time.”

  John smiled then suddenly looked serious as he began. “Straighten your back and breathe as deeply and as slowly as you can.”

  I couldn’t focus. My grandfather came to mind; this would be the sort of mantra he’d rehearse.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better thanks, but my mind keeps drifting.”

  “It will at first.”

  “Can we try this again later?”

  “No problem mate. What came to mind?”

  “….My granddad, Nigel. He’s into meditation.”

  “Sounds like an interesting guy. It’s good that you have family to focus on while you’re here.”

  I flinched at a cockroach. John laughed. “You’ll get used to all the bugs.”

  “What about infections?”

  “You stay strong physically and mentally, your body will take care of itself and meditation can help cool you down…..how you doing for money?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “You contacted your embassy?”

  “I haven’t, no.”

  “They would have been informed. They’ll send you some cash while you’re inside. It may take a while, but if you leave your ATM card with a guard, he will eventually sort you out.”

  “I don’t have my card and I already owe a guy.”

  “I’ll take care of that.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pay you back when I can.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “How long you in for?”

  “I got life.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “I’ll tell you why I’m here if you really want to know, but I warn you right now, I’m not an innocent man. I’m serving time for my crime.”

  “Have you made many friends?”

  “Not really and I can speak Thai.”

  “Has that helped?”

  “I can talk my way out of trouble.”

  “What do the Thais think about us?”

  “Not much, but they think we have money.”

  “What if we don’t?”

  “You don’t do well without it, not here.”

  “I’ve seen vouchers. How do they work?”

  “Almost everything is paid for with vouchers or coupons that you buy from a guard.”

  “How are the guards?”

  “Lazy bastards that have trusted inmates called ‘trusties’ or ‘blue-shirts’ working for them.”

  “Do they ever get rough?”

  “Not if you pay. The poorer inmates are beaten.”

  “That’s sad. What can you do about that?”

  “I find its best not to get involved and besides it’s so hot out here, it never lasts long.”

  “Can you buy sun cream?”

  “No sun cream or condoms, just in case you’re looking at the lady-boys. There’s plenty of AIDS lingering about and every STD you can imagine.”

  “Can I at least get a razor and a tooth brush?”

  “You can buy disposable razors, toothbrushes, paste, soaps and similar stuff at a stall near the laundry. They open it every Friday.”

  “What about toilet paper?”

  “I’ve never seen that in here. Thais don’t use it.”

  “You never told me why they moved you here.”

  “I pay a guard so I can move every few months. I’ve been looking for someone to talk to.”

  “I’m glad you arrived. I was about to be raped.”

  “It looked that way and don’t ever cry in here. You show weakness, you will get raped.”

  As the sun poured down, we talked about the rules of the prison, or rather he talked and I listened. I was glad to have found a friend.

  “That’s enough about that,” he concluded. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  I considered sharing and figured I should tell him something. “You want the long or the short?”

  “What do you think?”

  FOUR

  “I WAS decent at sketching at school but when I floated the idea of attending Art school, my dad wasn’t keen. He didn’t appreciate my gift but I stymied him when I was awarded a scholarship to one of the most prestigious Art colleges in London.

  I had a few months before my first term and decided on a trip to Thailand. My plan was to sketch ‘Working girls’ that worked the seedy hostess bars of Bangkok. I liked the look of them and had seen enough online to send my libido off the Richter scale.

  Within days of arriving, I rented a real studio and it didn’t take long to find the bars. I saw an interesting looking place, local to me and stepped inside. A girl wearing a long, red evening-gown with a slit in the side caught my attention. Her face was made-up nicely and her eyes had a look of a dreamy sadness. Her curvy body was to lust for; her hair was long and black – I was drawn to her. I met Mon the mamasan, paid the bar-fine and waited while Bee changed.

  She appeared a few minutes later in a pair of ripped jeans and a short, tangerine t-shirt that barely reached her belly button. I took her home in a taxi and directed her to the bathroom to change. I placed my sketchpad on its easel, searched through my pencils and selected two of a similar shade.

  I waited a while then leaning my head to one side; I caught a glimpse of her in the bedroom kicking off her jeans. She stood there in a tight pair of tiger panties that stretched over her taut buttocks - I couldn’t help but stare. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and unclipped her tiger bra exposing her upturned breasts. She slid down her panties revealing a tiny path of pubic hair and then tossing her clothes onto the chair; she stepped over to the bed and slipped between the sheets.

  She saw me watching her, grinned cheekily then turned back the top sheet, inviting me to join her. My heart was racing. I had the most beautiful girl in my bed waiting for me, but all I could think about was sketching her.

  I walked over, held out a towel and waited as she wriggled into it. I led her to the studio and sat he
r on a stool facing me. She watched as I began sketching her, but couldn’t keep still. I offered her a whisky Cola and after several sips, she relaxed.

  I sketched her for hours, pausing only to loosen my wrists, change pencils or take a drink. When I was ready, I showed her what I’d done. She smiled, took a picture on her mobile then sent it to a friend.

  We worked all night, finishing in the early hours of the morning. I paid her a couple of thousand, put her into a taxi, returned to my studio then rolled into bed. Against my better judgement I had allowed her beauty and innocent charm to burn into my brain – I knew I had to see her again.

  Over the next weeks, I took Bee and other girls back and my pencil came alive when I did. I slept most days, worked tirelessly through the nights and it wasn’t long before my studio was filled with sketches depicting, what I considered to be some of the most beautiful bar-girls in Bangkok.

  One evening I was invited to take a girl I’d never seen her before called Mia. She had long, brown hair and a firm figure that curved in all the right places. She moved warily as if experience had taught her that and watching her glide towards me made me think of honey dripping from a spoon. She looked a little younger than the rest, but Mon had insisted that I take her, so I did.

  We entered my studio; she flicked through my sketches and her eyes lit up. I pointed out the bathroom; she disappeared to change and returned in just a towel. She made us both a drink then I sat her on the stool facing away from me. I tried to pull the towel slightly from her shoulders but she stopped me. ‘What you do?’

  ‘I want to sketch your neckline. Can I?’

  She nodded and allowed me to slip the towel from her shoulders. I stepped back, looked over and was shocked. She had dropped it to her waist. Her thick, black hair now hung down her long, slender back. I loved the pose, took up my pencil and began.

  Once I was finished, I invited her to see. She glided over like a ghost, her hair hanging over her breasts, rubbing gently against her nipples. I felt her warm, soft breath caressing the back of my neck as she stood behind me. She seemed to like her sketch. She came around to face me, undid her towel and let it fall to the floor. She stood naked before me. She was gorgeous, enticing, inviting but I was suddenly tired; my energy was drained and my mind was somewhere else. I tried to focus, picked up the towel and wrapped it back around her waist.

  It may have been the alcohol or simply the lack of sleep but I was incapable and couldn’t go on. She took my hand, led me to the bedroom and lay me on the bed. She pulled off my clothes. I didn’t stop her; it was challenging enough just staying awake - then my heavy eyes gave in - I was gone.

  The sound of knocking on a door dragged me back to consciousness. Looking over at the sun shining brightly through the blinds, it was clear it was day. I threw back the covers, pulled on my clothes and followed the knocking to the main door. I swung it open to be met by Annie the landlady, flanked on either side by two uniformed policemen.

  ‘They come for you,’ she snapped.

  My head felt sore. ‘What do they want?’

  ‘They take you to station.’

  ‘What…why?’

  She didn’t reply. Everybody was so serious so I quickly gathered my things and returned to the main door. Gripping an arm each, they hauled me out of the building and wedged me into the back of a car.

  At the station I was marched down a dimly-lit corridor then thrown into a small, windowless room. It had a wooden table, three chairs and a small fan that wasn’t on. They left me alone and locked the door. I turned the fan on full then reached for my phone but damn; I’d left it at home.

  The door opened and a senior-looking policeman with hooded eyes, thin greying hair and a double chin, stepped in. He sat down, took a file from a folder and opened it. ‘I am Police Captain Nincotte.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘You are Michael Walker?”

  ‘Yes, and I’ve no idea why I’m here.’

  He took a long, heavy sniff like a hound dog on a hunt then smelt my breath. ‘I can smell the alcohol lingering in the air. You had a few last night?’

  ‘That’s not a crime.’

  ‘It’s not, but taking an underage girl home is. The girl you took last night was only fourteen.’

  The memory that Mia looked younger than the others suddenly jolted me.

  ‘She says you beat and then raped her.’

  ‘What! I didn’t touch her. I only sketched her.’

  He pursed his lips then placed some disturbing photographs in front of me. ‘Take a look.’

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s pictures of bruising on her body.’

  ‘I told you, I didn’t touch her.’

  He pushed some paperwork under my nose.

  ‘I can’t read Thai.’

  ‘Tell me what happened last night.’

  ‘I took Mia back to sketch her and that’s all I ever did. Whatever happened after she left the studio has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Your semen was found inside her.’

  ‘That’s not possible and in any event, how do you know it was mine?’

  ‘It’s all in the report.’

  ‘I told you I can’t read Thai.’

  ‘Her parents don’t wish to press charges, but they will need compensation to cover all the medical costs and trauma. She will require counselling. You need to pay a hundred and twenty thousand baht.’

  The penny finally dropped. This was a scam and I was its latest victim. Well, he’d picked the wrong guy this time. ‘I won’t pay!’

  I used his silence to get my thoughts in order. He had to be a corrupt cop. The evidence was false. My semen inside her; how could he have had that tested so quickly and how would he know it was mine? He’d have to have had my DNA on record and how could he have it here in Thailand. That huge amount of cash would take care of whoever was involved.

  He gathered up his paperwork with a sigh. ‘You’ll have to pay or you’ll go to jail. I’ll give you some time to think it over.’

  He rose and left the room. I could still feel the alcohol seeping from my sweat, fear was beginning to grip me and I was desperately trying to suppress it. One thing was certain and I had to hold on to it like a life raft; I didn’t rape or beat any girl.

  He returned with a smug smile on his face. ‘I have some good news.’

  My eyebrows raised a ‘what’.

  ‘The bar has agreed to pay twenty thousand. After all, they had employed an underage girl. You pay only a hundred thousand and you can leave today.’

  This blatant attempt to manoeuvre me only confirmed my suspicion that I was being set up and stiffened my resolve to resist it.

  ‘I would pay if I were you; if you don’t you’ll go to prison until a Court date is set. That could take a while and Thais don’t take kindly to farang rapists.’

  It was as if his English was too good and this whole thing had been rehearsed. ‘Mr Walker?’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘I’m not guilty. I won’t pay.’

  ‘The longer you leave this, the more difficult it will be to release you. Are you sure you won’t pay?’

  I nodded - he left. Two policemen stepped in, pulled me to my feet and escorted me out to an over-night cell. It was a small room with a concrete floor, stained walls and smelt like rat faeces. There was no blanket or pillow and when I pulled the cord to the overhead fan, it whirred for a while then stopped dead. I wasn’t given any food or water and as I sat there alone, it wasn’t long before I had fallen prey to an army of ants. Throughout the night my earlier resolve ebbed and flowed. I was afraid and missed my family more than ever before.

  The following morning I was given a bottle of warm water and a small bag of rice with a miniscule amount of sliced chicken sprinkled on top. The rice tasted rough and the chicken was tough. I was allowed five minutes in a small, smelly bathroom while a policeman waited outside. It smelt of burnt hair and came with cracked tiles and a stained squat toilet that hadn’t been cleane
d in a while. There was no hot water, no towel, no toothbrush, absolutely nothing. I made the best of it, washed, cleaned my teeth with my finger then tidied my hair.

  Handcuffed and shackled, I was driven to the Court where I was held in a hot holding-cell that smelt of sour milk. There were a few others waiting, mainly Thai, but nobody talked to me. I sat on the floor and waited in fear; what was I doing here?

  I was finally called up and taken to the courtroom that was like any other courtroom back home, except they had prints of Thai royalty on the walls. It all smelt woody and the whole thing felt unreal, but once the three judges arrived, reality hit hard; this was really happening.

  All the proceedings were in Thai. I didn’t have a lawyer or translator and I just stood there listening while several men talked and occasionally glanced back. I wasn’t even allowed a phone call.

  Once the hearing was over, I was brought straight here. I still don’t know what’s going on. I’m just waiting for this to be over. I’ve tried speaking to the guards but they don’t seem to speak English.”

  “Some do,” John stated, “especially when they want money. Have you called home?”

  “Not yet. I didn’t want to worry my family. Do you have any idea how these things work?”

  “They have twelve days to collect evidence and build a case against you. If they’re ready within that time, they’ll take you to Court and charge you with a crime. If they don’t have enough to make a case, they’ll have to let you go. You were framed. It happens, but now you should pay. Didn’t you say your dad’s a lawyer?”

  “Yeah and my grandfather was as well.”

  “Then call home.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t plead guilty to a crime I didn’t commit. I’d rather do the twelve days.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “This is just something I have to do.”

  I set my mind on the twelve days. I would wait it out; they’d have to let me go.

  As the sun set, we were taken inside. John spoke to my neighbour and a little space was given. Once we settled, John turned to me and asked. “Do you still want to know why I’m here?”

  “I do but only if you’re ready to share.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.”