Inside

(Author's note: this story is not the next in the series, and several years have passed since The Picture and Re-trace)

"Has the jury made a decision as to which they are all agreed?" The bailiff asked.
"No." The foreman replied.
"Is there a verdict upon which most of you agree?"
"Yes."
"On the charge of murder what is your verdict?"
"Guilty."
"Mr Samuel Tyler, please stand." The judge ordered, "You have been found guilty of murder and are to be sentenced to life imprisonment. However, due to the horrific nature of your crime there will be no chance of parole."

It seemed like only yesterday since the trial, but Sam had been here for two months now. His '10 stone weakling' appearance didn't allow him to fit in, but he did his best to avoid incidents by only leaving his cell when he has to, and returning to it as quickly as possible. So far, it had been enough.

There were few activities during the evenings, but the gym had just started to be left open to provide 'entertainment'. Sam pondered upon the irony of the system virtually encouraging these hardened criminals to become even more.... hard, but was eventually persuaded by his cell mate to get out more, so decided to take this opportunity, besides; the exercise can only help with his image. He decided to start with his legs tonight. After setting the weights to a suitable level, he quickly sat in the leg press and began to slowly pump the large metal platform.
"Oi! Wanker! What the hell do you the think you're doing?" Sam didn't have to look up to know who was talking to him. The strong, gravely voice belonged to one of the roughest tenants of the prison: Max. He was a typical criminal; large, burley and demanding-what he wanted, he got. He was a frequent
re-offender with no feelings of remorse or rehabilitation. After several vicious attacks, robberies and a couple of murders the law has finally given up and thrown away the key. Sam continued pumping. "I said what do you think you are doing? Are you fucking deaf or something?" He looked up at Max, who was rapidly moving towards him; followed by several of his lackeys.
"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" Sam replied. He knew that no matter whether you want trouble or not, backing down is never an option in here; it just lets them walk over you whenever they want.
"Yes I'm talking to you tosser! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"The last time I looked I was doing some exercising." Sam replied as sarcastically, but yet still keeping his normal calm tone; it was a skill that he was quite proud of. Max looked at him in a rage; no one had ever talked to him like this.
"Yeah, but you're using my equipment."
"I didn't see your name on it."
"Well obviously you didn't look hard enough; cos everything here has got my name on, that way I use what I want when I want. And I want to use the leg press."
Sam looked at Max's legs briefly; "They look alright to me. You don't need to use this tonight."

Max's face was almost red; he wanted to hit him so much. He looked over his shoulder at the warden who was standing guard. Max knew that even though he run the prison from the inside, if he caused any trouble here the prison governor would most probably ban him from using the gym in the evenings, perhaps even ban everyone. That would not make him popular. "You must be some kinda bruiser to be talking to me like that. But I ain't seen you around here any. You must be a new one, wait that's it. I know who you are; you're that new one who got life for murdering that young lad." Sam looked straight ahead at the moving weights. "Oh yeah, everyone here knows about that. I mean the mess you made of him, no one here is sick enough to do that to a person." The anger in Sam was building at Max's taunts; the memory of the events and the feelings he had then tried their best to creep into his mind, but he held them back, still looking straight ahead. "Although, I'd say it looks as though you'd been framed. I mean, how can a, a weakling like yourself ever do anything like that. Bet you ain't even swatted a fly in you life!" Max laughed at Sam, with his followers joining in quickly.

The anger whelmed up inside of him like a raging fire; too much for him to suppress. He'd felt this kind of rage before, against an old adversary, before he killed him. But he couldn't let it get out of control here, not now, but if he didn't do something to get rid of Max.... Sam trembled slightly.
"Yes well, looks can be deceiving...." Sam said calmly as he looked down into his lap, pushing all his rage and anger up into his eyes; letting it do its work there and there alone. He then suddenly looked up at Max and straight into his eyes. As Max looked back, he wasn't gazing into familiar round human eyes, but into animal like pools of deep, Emerald green. He backed off; fear and panic running riot in his head. Sam quickly looked back down into his lap and shook his head lightly, blinking hard.
"What, what the fuck are you?" Max stuttered, barely able to speak.
"Pardon?" Sam said with a puzzled tone.
"Your eyes. What the fuck did you do to your eyes!!?"
"I didn't do anything to them." Sam replied as he looked back up at Max, his eyes now back to their human, green selves, "You must be seeing things." Max flew into a rage and lashed out at one of his lackeys, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him close.
"You saw it didn't you?" Max shouted into the terrified man's face.
"I, I'm sorry boss. I, I didn't see anything" he replied as best he could. Max threw the man across the room with a roar. He looked over the rest of his followers one by one and each of them backed away from his reach. He turned quickly to face Sam, then with a swift fluid motion picked him up by his throat and proceeded to throttle him.

"Put him down Max." the warden called. Max looked up at him, then over to the door as two of the larger guards entered the gym. Sam remained locked in his grip gagging. "Put him down and return to your cell now, and I might just allow you to leave it again." The warden reiterated. Max struggled to obey the logic, but his rage was too great. This insect had ridiculed him, scared him. This piece of nothing had to pay. "I said put him down!" The two guards had reached Max and tried to release his grip on Sam's throat. Max threw one away with his other arm, while the other guard successfully restrained it before max could do the same to him. Max looked at the guard angrily as the other pounced on him again. This time the guard was able to break Max's grip and Sam fell to the floor coughing uncontrollably. The guards pulled Max out of the room as he yelled furiously at Sam. "I'll get you, you freak! Just you see if I don't. Your days are numbered. You're dead! Dead you hear!!!!" Max's threats were eventually muffled and then silenced as the doors shut behind him and he was taken away to his cell.

Sam slowly pulled himself into the seat of the leg press, rubbing his throat and coughing periodically. He looked around at the other prisoners, most of which were staring at him dumfounded. "Yes?" Sam said croakily, struggling to suppress his anger and keep his cool; they quickly went back to what they were doing. Over in the corner Max's lackeys were helping the one he threw across the room to his feet. Once he was up, they all looked over to Sam, and then quickly left. Once he was comfortable, Sam continued his presses. Suddenly he felt someone standing over him and he looked up sharply. It was the warden. Despite his obvious age he still looked quite burley, and not just big and flabby like the other older wardens, this was proper muscle. He looked down sternly at Sam, causing Sam to squirm despite his best efforts not to. "You must have some kind of death wish making Max angry like that." He said eventually. Sam could say nothing in reply. "Yes, well, I don't want you making trouble in my jail you here me? I don't care what you've done out there, in here; you follow my rules, and while I'm not around; Max's. You here what I'm saying?"
"Yes sir" Sam replied quickly.
"Good. Now I suggest you return to your cell to, unwind."
"Yes sir" Sam replied again. He got up on the other side to the warden, turned around then slowly walked out of the gym.
"That guy's going to be dead before his terms through." The warden said to himself as he returned to his post. Behind him another inmate had quickly taken up position on the leg press and was just about to do some exercising, but yet try as he may he could not move the plate. He pondered for a moment then dismounted and went round to the weights.
"All right then, which joker put the setting this high up?" He suddenly called out. He unplugged the stop from the bottom and re-plugged it half way up. "Even max couldn't push that much." He said to himself as he returned to the seat. The warden turned round slightly taking in what had just happened, then continued on his way shaking his head.

"Well that went well." Sam said to himself as he slumped down on his bunk. There was a creak from the springs of the bed above him, then from the bunk itself as a head and a pair of shoulders popped down over the edge of the bunk.
"Why what did you...." His cellmate paused before grabbing the underside of his bed and swinging his legs round. As soon as his feet had landed he sat down on Sam's bed. His cellmate was a sly, smooth talking black guy who had been imprisoned for several accounts of fraud just under two years ago. "That wasn't you, was it?" He continued. Sam nodded slowly. "Oh man! Have I taught you nothing?"
"Look, Ben; I know this is a bad thing, but please, not know aye." Sam replied turning over to face the wall. Ben got up and started pacing the cell.
"What on earth were you thinking: how can I make my stay here hell?"
"You were the one who persuaded me to 'get out a little'. Now that I have don't you go complaining."
"Yes I did, and it took me two months! Then you go strait ahead and screw all that hard work up. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart; you're an investment."
"I'm glad I mean that much to you."
"Although, I can still use this. A few bets here and there, and I can still make a bit of a profit, yeah."
"Bets?" Sam asked turning his head to look at Ben, "Bets on what?"
"How long you last mate." Ben replied stooping down, his face just a few inches from Sam's, a broad smile covering his face.
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you." Sam said as he rolled back to face the wall.
"Heh, if you say so." Ben scurried out of the cell to go and sow his scam, while Sam shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep, the excitement of earlier having taken a lot out of him.

He could lie in his garden for hours some nights, just watching the stars twinkle, and the clouds pass overhead. It all seemed so calm, feeling the lightly damp, uncut grass poking through his fingers and toes, not a sound, save the occasional hoot of an owl. Suddenly there was a crack from one of the hedges. He sat up with a start to see a small flock of birds leave the bush.
"Hello?" he called out, his throat suddenly dry. There was no answer. He stared as hard as he could but he could see nothing. He eventually lay back down, sighing, continuing his visual. His thoughts crept to his recent activities and he chuckled to himself. Just then he noticed something walking towards him. He could hear the grass moving around it's feet as it walked. "Here boy." He called lightly; guessing it to be his family's Golden Retriever. As he felt it snuffling round his hair he reached up and patted it's side. But there was something wrong; this wasn't his dog; it's coat was too long, too fluffy. He looked up and strait onto the gaze of a large bright grey, almost white, wolf. He threw himself up onto his feet, lashing out with one of his fists; bashing the creature on the side of the face. He backed away slowly, trying his best not to show his fear.

The wolf stood there for a moment, it's face titled to the side and one of it's eyes shut, before growling a long, deep, guttural growl, then followed him. As the wolf closed he had no choice but to turn and run. When he reached the edge of the garden he threw himself through the hedging, the small branches whipping against his face and scratching his arms. Once he was a distance past the other side, he looked back briefly to see the wolf jump effortlessly through the large hole that he had left in the hedge. He ran as fast as he could through the small wood behind his garden. He had played in it more times than he could remember and knew it like the back of his hand; where every tree, branch and root was, but it was as if a veil had fallen over his mind, clogging it up and stopping him from remembering the best route through. He winced in pain as his bare foot landed on a sharp twig. He stumbled onto all fours, then into the dirt as his legs tried to propel him faster then his arms. He rolled on the floor, dust flying into the air, getting up his nose and in his dry mouth. He sat panting, looking back from where he had just come, grit crunching between his teeth as he swallowed hard in between his gasps for air. There was nothing there. He expected to be pounced on at any second, but yet; it never came.

Eventually he got to his feet, supporting himself on a nearby tree. He tried his best to catch his breath as he looked around, the light of the full moon barely making it to the leaf strewn floor. Suddenly there was a crunch of dead leaves behind him. He turned sharply in time to see the wolf begin it's pounce. He fell to the floor out of it's way and it carried on into the tree, yelping as it hit it hard. He bounded back up onto his feet and started to run back towards his garden, and the assured safety of his house. He seemed to run for an eternity, never knowing if he was about to be cut down. His feet pounded and his lungs burst, until finally, the hedgerow of his garden came back into view. He put everything into getting home, through the bush, across the garden and to his back door; sure that the wolf was only just behind him. However, as he ran through the hole he had made earlier, his foot caught on a root and he tumbled to the ground, rolling several times across his lawn. He tried his best to get back up again, but his legs felt like lead, his heart wanted to break out of his chest, and his mind was failing him for a way out. The wolf appeared at the gap and walked quickly through it. It stopped for a moment, panting lightly, with what seemed to be a grin on it's face, before bounding towards him, and pouncing. He screamed loudly: in vain....

Sam sat up suddenly with a yell. It took him a moment to remember where he was as he looked around sharply, wild eyed, for something familiar.
"Whoa there boy." Ben said as he grabbed Sam by the shoulders, trying to calm him down.
"W-what, where?" Sam stammered.
"It's me Ben, you know; your cell mate. In prison." Ben shook Sam lightly.
"Oh, yeah. It's alright, I'm okay now." He replied having gained his sense.
"You sure?"
"I said I was alright." Sam said sternly as he pushed Bens hands off his shoulders.
"If you say so." Ben held his hands up in retreat, then carried on getting ready for bed. "That musta been some kinda nightmare, I bet even Max heard you over the other end of the block."
"I get them every now and then." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then rubbed his hand over his face.
"You know if you get them often enough, you might be able to claim ill health and get transferred to the nut wing. It's a lot cosier there if you behave yourself."
"It's nothing, just leave it."
"Your choice."
"Yeah." Sam said under his breath.
"Well you better get ready for bed pretty sharpish, cos they're cutting the lights any second." Suddenly there was a loud click as a breaker was switched and the whole block was plunged into darkness. "Told ya." Ben jumped up onto his bed and settled down to sleep. Sam slowly got to his feet, sighed lightly and stretched. He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and placed in the square of light created in the middle of the floor by the moon and starlight through the barred window. He sat down and just stared out window and into the deep, dark, star studded sky. Eventually, after several hours, his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

Sam was woken by the loud buzz, then clank and grind of the cell doors being opened.
"C'mon matey, rise and shine; time for roll call." Ben said to Sam as he left the cell and stood on the edge of the balcony, hands clamped onto the handrail. Sam yawned and stood up slowly. After a brief stretch of all his limbs he followed Ben out of the cell and stood next to him. The large barred door at the end of the block slid to the side noisily, it's sound echoing down the long corridor like room. The warden and four guards entered. Two of the guards quickly moved ahead of the warden, then split to climb the stairs to the upper balcony. Once they were both up the warden started the roll call.
"Wilks."
"Sir" He called back
"Fetcher."
"Sir"
"Robinson."
"Here."
"Lambert, B"
"Sir."
"Jaques"
"Yes, sir."
"Chapman, M."
"Yes."
"Jones."
"Sir." The warden stepped a couple of steps forward to read the next group of cells. The guards on the balconies walked along with him checking that who he was calling, was who was replying.
"Stewart."
"Sir." Ben called loudly.
"Tyler."
"Sir." Sam called back. The warden paused for a moment, looking up at Sam.
"Mr Tyler, you presence has been requested by the governor. Report to his office as soon as you've finished your breakfast."
"Yes sir." Sam replied. The Warden continued calling names, while the guard behind Sam and Ben moved onto the next cell.

As the two men stood waiting for the warden to finish the roll call Sam suddenly lurched forward, having to steady himself on the balcony's hand rail.
"Wow, mate. You all right?" Ben asked.
"Yeah sure." Sam replied as he stood back strait again, "Just got a bit dizzy, that's all."
"You don't look so good, you should go see the doctor you know."
"It'll pass soon, nothing to worry about."
"That's what you said when you were off colour the other month. You got some kinda fear of doctors? Thompson in the cell across the way doesn't like doctors, that's why he killed one." Ben said a slight smile appearing on his face.
"Something like that." Sam said to himself.
Just then the warden and guards returned, all of them now on the ground floor. As the warden reached the end of the block, he turned and said, "Gentlemen, breakfast is served." then quickly walked through the doorway.
"Him and his 'breakfast is served'." Ben whispered, "He says that every time; doesn't he ever get sick of it?" Everyone on the upper level turned to their left and began to file down the stairs and through the door. As soon as everyone was down, the occupants from the lower cells followed suit.

Sam sat at the table playing with the food in front of him. Every now and then he would force himself to eat a spoonful of cereal. Despite his lack of appetite he knew that he needed to eat something to keep his strength up. Tonight was a full moon, and obviously his current situation was not the best place to give in to the morph. He'd been able to resist it for the last few full moons while being incarcerated in one cell or another, but now it was fighting back, with a vengeance. He didn't know how much longer he could hold it at bay.
"You gonna eat that toast?"
"What?" Sam asked as he was woken sharply from his thoughts.
"Are you going to eat that piece of toast? It's just that it looks like you're having enough problem with you cereal, and it's no good it going to waste now is it?" the inmate next to him replied.
"Sure, take it." Sam said taking another mouthful of soggy corn flakes. The inmate did so, quickly proceeding to eat it.
"You know you're looking a bit pale Tyler. You thinking about what Max's gonna do to you when he gets you alone? Hehe."
"I'll just not have to give him the chance say, will I?" Sam responded swallowing his cereal hard.
"[Insert sentence time] is a long time; he'll get you eventually."
"Well if it ever happens, I assure you, I can take care of myself."
"Hehe, that's a good one mate." The inmate slapped Sam on the back as he got up, "You can take care of yourself, against Max, if you say so. Hahaha." He walked away chuckling to himself. Sam threw his spoon down into the bowl, his temper flaring. It took every ounce of his strength to not follow the man and lay him out. Not only had his need to morph become more pronounced, but also his temper; which wasn't that good at the best of times. If he didn't relieve his tension soon, he was liable to burst.
"Hey, calm down Sam, you know Cetera's a wind up merchant." Ben said as he noticed Sam's anger, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sam threw his arm back suddenly, trying to dislodge Ben's hand. However, in his angered state he used too much force and ended up knocking Ben backwards. He landed with a crash on the floor, still in his chair. Ben lay there looking up Sam as he stood up quickly to leave.
"I, I'm sorry." Sam mumbled as he turned and left the canteen, cursing himself.

Sam did a slow walk to the Governor's office, giving him plenty of time to chill out, and calm down. By the time he arrived Max was already waiting, along with a couple of guards to ensure no trouble. Max glared at Sam as he entered the small room like waiting area. Sam glanced back coolly, before sitting opposite. One of the guards knocked on the warden's door, then opened it and leaned in.
"Max Black and Samuel Tyler are here sir." He said.
"Show them in officer." Came the muffled response. The guard opened the door fully as the other directed the two inmates into the office. Max went in first with one of the guards right behind him, then Sam followed with the other guard following him. When they were all in the last guard shut the door and stood at one side, while the other stood at the other side of the door.

The Governor's office was a reasonably large wood panelled room. His sizeable desk filled the end opposite the door, while the other had several filing cabinets. In one of the corners behind the desk was a small table with glass bowl sitting on top. A couple of gold fish were swimming around inside, occasionally biting at the surface for some freshly sprinkled food. The governor was sitting behind his desk, his undersized stature dwarfed by his large comfy chair. He looked up from his work briefly, before putting his papers to the side then leaning back in his chair.
"I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour in my prison." He started suddenly. "I think I've been more than fair to you. Not many people would even let you out of your cells in the evening, let alone let you use the gym. And how do you repay me? Brawling like common thugs. I don't want to know what it was about, and I don't care. I'm under a lot of pressure from those who say I'm too lenient; the only thing that's keeping me here is the fact that the number of violent incidents have gone down since I started." The governor leant forward, leaning on his desk. "That's because although I might be 'soft' while you're behaving yourselves, I assure you, any trouble is punished most austerely. You Mr Black will remain in your cell during the evenings for the next month; while Mr Tyler, you are not to enter the gymnasium unless instructed to do so. I suggest you find some good books to read on an evening instead." The warden leant back in his chair, before pulling the papers he was working on back in front of him and shuffling through them. Sam's jaw opened in astonishment. "Please escort the inmates back to their cells."

The guard behind Sam opened the door while the other pulled Max's arm, he turned and both of them left. The guard then pulled on Sam's arm, but he resisted, pulling his arm out of the guards the guard's grip.
"What?" Sam asked exasperated. He could hear the guard's hand move over the truncheon on his belt.
"It's all right." The governor said to the guard. His hand stayed over the truncheon, but his grip relaxed. "Do you have a problem?" The warden asked Sam.
"You're banning me from the gym?"
"That's right."
"And what about Max? He started it!"
"I doubt Max would have gotten in such a rage without being provoked; so who stared it is irrelevant, you must have let it continue. The reason he's not also banned is because what would you suggest he does instead? The gym keeps Max out of trouble, where as, it appears it you get into trouble there Mr Tyler. I assure you, a month alone in his cell is more than enough punishment for Max. Now if you would please leave so that I can get on with my work, it would be most appreciated." The warden nodded to the guard who took hold of Sam's arm and pulled him towards the door more forcefully this time. Sam submitted to the guard and let himself be escorted back to his cell.

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Max was virtually thrown back into his call by the guard, which was something of a feat due to his bulk, and the cell door shut firmly behind him.
"Hope you've got plenty to read Max." the guard taunted. Max looked back, unimpressed. As the guard turned and walked away Max moved up to the bars and looked through them as best he could up to the other end of the wing, where Sam was being escorted back to his cell. Just before he went in Sam looked round, right at Max, who promptly stuck his arms through the bars and preformed the 'fuck you' motion at Sam. He was suddenly startled by a loud crash against the bars of his cell and pulled himself back in instinctively, quickly looking over to where the noise came from, to see the warden with his nightstick against the bars.
"Now that's enough of that Max." He said returning it to his belt.
"You know you're pretty hard when you're that side of the bars. You wonna step in here and see how hard you are then?" Max asked, standing opposite the warden. The warden paused for a moment, staring nonchalantly back.
"You're in enough trouble as it is." He said suddenly, before turning and continuing along the walkway. As he passed Sam's cell he stopped briefly, looking in on Sam as he lay on his bunk; his arm draped over his eyes. As the warden stood there watching him Sam suddenly lifted his arm slightly, just enough to look up at who was standing over him, then, just as quickly, returned it. The warden continued on his way.

Sam remained in his cell until having to leave for lunch, taking the time to browse through the brochures for the different afternoon classes. Most of them were for some practical skill like wood working/carpentry or metal work, but a few opted for more emotional activities such as painting, writing and even a fortnightly philosophy meeting. Although none of the group activities had interested Sam when he first arrived, having preferred to keep himself to himself, thusly avoiding any trouble. But that was almost pointless now, and after spending a month banged up all ready, he was beginning to get bored with the look of his cell walls, and with another 178 months to go, he really needed to get out and about and doing something. Still, despite searching through the pile of brochures twice, nothing really grabbed Sam's interest over any others. He thought hard about it as he, along with the rest of the block, was herded into the canteen.

Sam walked tentatively over to his place next to Ben, sat down quietly and began eating in silence. Eventually Sam spoke:
"Look, Ben I'm sorry I snapped at you this morning." Ben stopped eating and turned in his seat to face Sam. "I guess all this Max stuff has put me on edge." Ben sat there silent, just looking Sam in the eyes. Then, slowly, a smile crept along his face.
"Hey, that's all right man." Ben said, slapping Sam on the back. "You kinda get used to being pushed around in here. It's no big deal. I suppose having that brute on your back, and having to go up before the Little-big-man so soon would put anybody on edge."
"Little-big-man?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, the keeper, the head honcho. The prison governor." Ben replied, smiling broadly. "The guy's a midget. He musta been bullied at school, and gets off on the power over us scum." Ben took a mouth full of his lunch.
"You been in front of him then?"
"Yeah, got hauled up a coupla times. Unfortunately not all of my profit making schemes have gone according to plan. Anyways, what did he say; what's the sentence?"
"Well, Max has been confined to his cell for the next fortnight."
"Oooh, harsh." Ben replied between chews.
"And I'm not allowed back into the gym."
"No way!?" Sam shrugged in reply as he forced down a bit of his food, while Ben greedily continued with his. "Yep, definitely gets off on the power." He added.

They both continued with their lunches; Sam slowly slogging from one mouth full to the next, while Ben just practically threw the food down his throat. Ben had soon ravished his own meal and looked upon Sam's, hoping for some more.
"You gonna eat that pudding?" he eventually asked.
"No, I don't think I'll be able to manage it tonight." Sam replied sighing. That was all Ben needed, he quickly swooped in and claimed the small bowl of spotted dick.
"You know, you ain't eating much today." Ben commented as he quickly emptied the bowl. "You need to keep your strength up in a place like this; you never know when you'll need it."
"Yeah, well, I'm just not feeling myself today." Sam smirked uncontrollably as he said it, not having intended the pun. Ben placed the pudding bowl back onto Sam's tray heavily.
"Anyways, I've got to get to class." Ben smiled broadly as he got up with his own tray, "Thanks for the pud." He added as he quickly left.

Sam played with his food for a bit longer, before deciding that he couldn't eat any more no matter how much he tried. As he stood up from the table he looked up at the guard's overhang to see the warden watching him. He paused for a moment, seeing whether his gaze would move to someone else, or if he was specifically watching just him. The few seconds seemed to last an eternity as the warden's steely eye's continued to stare back at him. Sam suddenly continued on his way, his question having been answered.

The prison library put some town libraries to shame. Although the room itself was quite small, every inch of wall space was covered in books, with only just enough space for a grown man to fit in-between the full bookshelves, which were firmly bolted in to the middle of the floor. The collection had to be extensive to cater not only for the inmates' fictional desires, but also to cover all the different courses held in the afternoon. Still not having a clue which course would hold any interest to him, Sam skipped that area and went straight to the fiction shelves. Having no particular literary tastes Sam wondered around for a bit, studying the collection on offer. With the maximum number of books aloud on loan to each inmate being just four, Sam picked out the biggest books he could find; hoping that they would mean less trips out of his cell, so, hopefully, less chance of running into Max; once he's out and about again. However one of the smaller books, or to be more precise books, caught his eye; a reader's digest double novel of Call of the Wild and White Fang. The book seemed to spark an unknown memory. He didn't think he'd read either book but added it to the small pile of books he was carrying, sacrificing one of his loan slots in the attempt to solve the small quandary.

The evening passed quickly, much to Sam's annoyance. As far as he was concerned time could of just stopped; never to have made it to the night, even if it meant he was stuck in this prison for the rest of eternity. It was a small price to pay, never to see again another full moon. But alas the night came, as it inevitably does, and the prison locked down and the inmates all lay down in their bunks to sleep. All, that is, save one. Sam instead waited nervously, not even attempting to doze off. The need to change normally started about midnight, so he had three hours to prepare himself. Sam concentrated on his breathing, keeping it a slow, steady pace. He could then use this as a stable anchor while he watch over his body. He forced his stomach to stabilise, stopping the churning at butterflies which he always felt before the change; despite the countless number of times he has. With his stomach calm he could move onto locking his form; taking a kind of mental photograph and concentrating on keeping it the same. In this calm, almost meditating like state, time is a blur, and it wasn't long before Sam started to feel the familiar prangs of pain, which announce the coming of the transformation.

They always start off from the stomach, so very small, but oh so very intense. The pain then changes into a tingling, almost warm, pins and needles feeling, and spreads out to just under the skin. This is when he has to hold firmly on to his form; if he lets it go any further the physical changes will start, and when they do; there's no going back. Sam had never known pain until he had tried to hold back the change, or at least not physical pain. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as the tingling became more pronounced, roaring suddenly into a crescendo of pain. It felt like is skin was on fire, as hundreds of thousands of hairs tried to break his skin. Eventually the pain subsided, as the change ran out of momentum. Sam unclenched and panted lightly. He knew this was just a small reprieve; the change testing his defences, and it would be back shortly, even stronger.

The onset of the change increases Sam's already heightened senses even more, reaching almost the level of his wolfen self, and in the peace of the moment the seemingly empty, serene prison block held a multitude of stimuli. The sounds of those inmates on his block snoring echoed in Sam's ears as if they were in his very cell. The smell of the industrial cleaner used on the floors and wall burned in his nostrils, despite not having been cleaned for over a week. He could hear who was winning in the football match the block's guard was watching on his small portable TV, even though he was wearing earphones. It was if a veil had been lifted from around Sam, and he revelled in it, as much as he could.

His reverie was suddenly broken as the change raged upon again. It hit him hard, and off guard. He jerked up off the bed, his back arched in pain. He reached his arms up to the bedposts and grabbed them forcefully. It was all he could to avoid crying out as he was buffeted by wave after wave of agony. His mental picture slipped out of his grasp, he desperately tried to recapture it, but it kept on slipping out of his grip; like a wet bar of soap. He could feel his body pulsing between forms as his body hair rapidly started to increase. He was losing the battle; he was on the very verge of changing. Sam pulled on the bedposts in his vice like grip, as he was wracked by another rush of pain. The bunk creaked in reply; the metallic posts pinging as they shifted under the strain. Sam could hear Ben stirring above him, from the increasingly louder noises he was creating. This couldn't happen; Sam took every last ounce of composure, strength and will power he had left, and forced the change back, back into retreat. The battle took its toll, as a small bead of blood trickled out of Sam's nose, running a bright red line down his heavily contorted face. He suddenly cried out as he pushed the very last bit of strength against the change, pulling at the bedposts even harder. There was a loud creak and then groan as the bedposts finally crumpled in under the excessive force. The top bunk promptly collapsed at that end; throwing Ben against the wall, then onto the floor.

Ben sat up suddenly, he felt like he'd just been on a roller coaster, then realised that he was sitting in the middle of his cell, instead of lying in his slightly, only slightly mind, softer bed. He got up and walked over to the bunk. There was just enough light shining into the cell from the full moon for him to make out that the top bunk was now at a forty-five degree angle to what it should be.
"Sam. Sam, you alright?" Ben called quietly into the tangle of metal. When there was no reply he tried to move the collapsed bunk, but it was too heavy for him to shift. After a couple of more attempts he had no choice but to call for help. He ran the short distance to the bars and hollered as loud as he could for help. Eventually the shaft of light from a torch appeared at the doorway to the block, as all the inmates who had been disturbed began yelling themselves.
"What's going on in here?" the guard asked sternly as he approached the cell.
"The bed's collapsed, quick, give us a hand; Sam's trapped in it." Ben replied quickly.
"What the hell...?" The guard trailed off as he shone his torch at the bunk. He quickly grabbed his walkie-talkie from his belt and called for assistance.
"What the fuck's going on up there?" a familiar voice echoed up the block.
"Nothing for you to worry about Max." the guard called back.
"I don't like my beauty sleep being interrupted."
"Yeah, well, you need as much 'beauty' sleep as you can get. Now just get back to sleep!"

The reinforcements soon arrived and opened up Sam and Ben's cell. Ben was quickly ordered out and restrained with handcuffs, out the way, while two of the officers were just able to pull the bunk off of Sam while a third pulled him out.
"Tyler." The third guard said, slapping Sam lightly on the face. His skin was cold and clammy, and a disturbingly pale shade of white. "Tyler! Wakey, wakey." Eventually Sam began to stir, and come around. "That's a good boy, c'mon time to get up." The guard continued sarcastically.
"What happened?" Sam asked still dazed.
"We were going to ask you that, but looks as though we're going to have to get you to the infirmary first; you don't look that good." The guard answered.
"No, I'll be fine." Sam said trying to get to his feet; however, he was still week from his battle and ended up falling down again, just being caught by one of the guards.
"Oh yeah?" he grunted under Sam's weight, "Well, you're gonna have to get that cut looked at any way; you never know what infections you can get in this place." Sam moved his hand up to a small gash in his forehead, just above his eye, which was slowly leaking blood. Sam wasn't in any state to think straight, let alone argue, so, with a bit of help, was carted off to the infirmary.

The bright white, spacious infirmary made a pleasant change to the cramped, concrete cells, and with the birds celebrating the morning just outside the windows; it could almost have been a different place entirely. However, the constantly whirring security cameras and barred windows and doorways made sure the inmates didn't forget that they were still just that. Sam lay staring at the ceiling most the morning, wondering, almost worrying, about whether he'd done, or said anything last night while virtually unconscious. The only brief distraction being created by breakfast, which he ate with a renewed vigour compared to yesterday.
"I see we're feeling better this morning Mr Tyler." The doctor commented as he approached Sam. Sam looked up without a word, before concentrating back on finishing his breakfast. "Or perhaps not." the doctor picked up Sam's notes from the end of the bed and moved over to beside him, where he placed a small metal tray on Sam's bed side cabinet. "Anyways;" the doctor continued, "I've heard from your cell mate that you've not been well lately, and had a small, similar bout, last month." Sam put his knife and fork down and pushed the plate to the side, then leant back in his bed, his gaze moving to the doctor.
"I get these dizzy spells every now and then, that's all. Some kinda mineral deficiency." Sam replied.
"You've seen a doctor about it then?"
"Of course."
"And you don't require any kind of medication or treatment for it?"
"Nope. He suggested some supplements, but as the problem wasn't life threatening; I didn't want to get bogged down with tablets and what not."
"Well, if you'll just sit still for a minute, I'll take a look at that cut." The doctor moved the small tray onto Sam's bed, then carefully pulled the small strip of gauze bandage off of Sam's forehead. "This is interesting."
"Oh?" Sam replied as curiously as he could.
"I got these butterfly stitches out to put on that wound, but it appears as though they wont be needed after all; the cut's healed already." The doctor said as he placed the lightly bloodied gauze onto the tray, then began feeling Sam's forehead carefully.
"Oh, well, I'm a quick healer." Sam replied quickly.
"Well that must explain it then." The doctor said derisively. "You see, Mr Tyler, you're a blank page." The doctor held up Sam's patient notes, "You see these? They're normally almost an inch thick by the time they get in here. But you, apart from a birth certificate, there's nothing. No vaccinations, no mumps or chicken pox, no nothing; not even anything about your dizziness."
"I don't get ill easily."
"If I didn't know better, I'd have said you died just after birth, and you just weren't declared dead. Of course that just ain't possible is it, cos here you are, large as life. And anyways, I'm sure some two-bit fraud would have sold your name to someone by now. You know they can sell the same identity on several times, as the last one he sold it to gets killed off."

Just then the phone in the doctor's office began to ring. "Just a minute." he said as he left Sam's bedside and went to answer it. After a short wait the doctor returned and picked up the tray, "Looks as though I'm gonna get to use these after all. Looks as though your cell mate couldn't stand to be kept away from you."
"What?" Sam asked as the doors suddenly opened. Two guards quickly entered, supporting a hobbling black guy, who looked suspiciously like Ben. They helped him over to the bed next to Sam, where the doctor quickly checked him over.
"Does this hurt?" Ben shook his head, then jerked suddenly as the doctor moved his hands around his chest. "Looks like he got off easy." He said as he felt along Ben's stomach and chest, "Some bruising, don't think there's any internal bleeding, but we better get an x-ray to check, and perhaps a cracked rib, or two. If you two could just give us a hand with the bed, I'll get that done now." With that the doctor disappeared into another room, with the guards wheeling the bed in right behind.

When they all eventually came back out the room the guards promptly returned to their duties, while the doctor hurried to develop the x-rays. Sam got up and walked slowly over to Ben's bed. Ben heard Sam approaching and turned his head.
"Hay, how you doin man?" he asked as if nothing was wrong.
"Oh, I'm fine. It takes more than a collapsing bed to take me out of action." Sam replied calmly.
"I was worried about you; you looked awful last night."
"Yeah, well, you look awful now. What happened?"
"Got pounced on by two of Max's goons in the canteen, while no one was watching; Kostich and Bray."
"Did the guards catch them?"
"Heh-heoh." Ben laughed painfully, "They couldn't catch a cold. By the time they realised what was happening, they'd done their damage, and had mingled into the crowd, out of sight."
"You tell them who it was?"
"You kidding? I thought I taught you better than that! There's no way in hell I'm grassing them up, just to get another beating."

Both Ben and Sam looked over to the doors as they opened and a bulky but yet rather pretty woman dressed in a nurse's uniform entered. She walked across the room and into the doctor's office, then after a short while came over to Ben's bed with a metal tray.
"I have to see to this gentleman's wounds, if you would excuse us please." She said casually; her voice deep, as befitting her size, but yet still with the same touches of beauty.
"Hey, get that Sam, I'm a gentleman now." Ben replied smiling.
"Where would Kostich and Bray be about now?" Sam asked as he backed away to his own bed.
"Probably on their way to the football match, why, you ain't thinking of doing anything are you?" Ben questioned, as the nurse turned and took a firm grip of the curtain.
"Me, what could I do against them?" Sam replied innocently, just before the curtain was pulled across in front of him. He turned on his heels and walked slowly back to his bed, fists clenched. If his morphing needed some release, then he might as well do it for something slightly good.