His boy slouched in, looking paler than usual, shoulders hunched. Lay flat in the dull heat of the cell.Ībout twenty minutes later, there came the sound of the door. He downed a half empty glass of water and shoved the magazine away with the rest. He paused for a moment, stock still but for a few deep slow breaths, then quickly turned the page and glared at the words with forced concentration. He grinned, something almost resembling happiness flickering into his head. Wild desolate country, just the two of em, no-one else for miles around. He could just picture taking the lad out for a spin somewhere in the hills.
He was speeding in his mind, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Exercised enough, Sike lay on his bed, idly thumbing through one of his bike mags, enjoying the familiar bitter-sweet escapism.
