Road to Redemption - Michelle Dalton Page 0,11

etched along the corners of her eyes and mouth. In the few moments life had allowed him to look at her, anger, fear, and, right in the very depths of her gaze, a shattered love had shone bright like the warning flicker of a lighthouse lamp. All had fought for first place; none had won.

He was the storm who’d destroyed her precious innocence, and for that, there was no going back.

Forcing a hard breath in to his lungs, he held on to the affirmation taught to him at rehab.

I am safe. I am stronger than my need! I am in control.

What in all the heavens was she doing here? And why didn’t she want anyone to know about them?

“Le Roux! What the fuck are you just standing around for? Better days! Move your arse.” Ben’s voice thundered, splintering his thoughts. The burly man came to stand beside him. “I know you were involved with that crooked son of a bitch down in Constantia. The courts let your involvement in kid smuggling go … just remember I’m watching you.” He poked a stubby finger into Ray’s chest. “Now get a move on.”

Ray bit back the anger at Ben’s assumption. He simply nodded as the man walked off. He wouldn’t bother defending himself or the fact that his involvement had been drug-related. He was a shit, but he’d never harm a kid. Never!

Letting go of the air which had turned to ice in his lungs, Ray forced his limbs to move, and with effort, made his way to the hall alongside the other inmates. He’d heard about the break-in and, like the others, was preparing for an interrogation and possible accusations over being involved. Ray didn’t care.

His mind was riddled with questions, confusion, pain, and need. Just one, the voice begged. No! He beat it back.

“Bro. Do you think one of us oakes are involved?” Cyril, his roommate, whispered as they made their way to the chairs and tables in the mess hall. “I think it’s that Jaapie bloke from cabin three. He’s always sniffing around asking questions.”

Ray shrugged and pulled out a chair and sat. The memory of his first night, and the person flashing a torch, resurfaced. He wasn’t going to mention it. Snitches were bitches.

Folding his arms across his chest, he continued to concentrate on his breathing, fighting the need not only for a hit, but to stand up and run after the only woman he’d ever loved.

Ray barely noticed Ben show a police woman and another man dressed in a khaki uniform to the front of the hall.

“This is Sergeant Abbe Deloise. She and Ranger Marnus Faldela are investigating last night’s break-in. You will co-operate. You will watch yourself. If I hear that you’re a problem, a simple phone call is all it takes to end your time here,” Ben bellowed across the hall, but Ray barely took notice as the man continued to explain that each of them would be questioned individually and that no one was to leave the hall until they were done.

The voices and faces around Raymond blurred into white noise as memories long buried beneath a haze of narcotics, anger, and pain surfaced like a demon corpse clawing its way from a watery grave to haunt and remind him of what he’d thrown away.

“You know we’re not supposed to mix.” Karl, the cricket captain, pushed him in to a corner of the cloakroom. The rest of the team surrounded the pair. Their eyes were dark and filled with hatred, aimed at him.

“But we’re all friends,” a seventeen-year-old Ray waved a hand at the team who was made up of white, coloured, and Xhosa—boys who had been allowed into their once only-white school when the walls of segregation had finally crumbled, but not disappeared.

“But we don’t touch one another’s women!” Benzile, their best fielder, spat at him.

“Leave her or pay for your actions,” Jantjie called out.

Karl’s fist gripped Ray’s collar roughly. “You heard the boys. Leave her. If it’s a fuck you need, Anke De Waal is always willing.”

“No. I love her! It shouldn’t be an issue. You can do what you want to me …”

“And what do you think we’ll do to her?” Benzile’s voice sliced across Ray’s heart.

He tried to fight back, but one against twelve strapping, angry, bitter lads was never meant to be a fair match …

“Raymond …”

A distant voice and someone’s hand on his shoulder dragged Ray from the depths of his nightmarish memory.

“Hey bro, you’re up.” Cyril pointed