under the tree and the shopping my mother will do and…
I’m crying now.
I’m twenty-one, and I should be acting like a grown up but it’s hard. It’s just so lonely here.
Guess I’m not as tough as people think I am.
Working for Remington Correctional Services doesn’t make you tough. It just makes you careful.
Remington is a hell hole. It is dreary and cold and the air is …hostile. I feel the pain, the suffering, the ugliness of the place, the despair.
That’s the word, despair. When I walk into it, I become numb and I just, like, stop feeling. A robot, that’s what I’ve become.
I don’t think I am cut out to be a correctional officer. I’ve been thinking about becoming a nurse?
That would be nice. I could do something good for people, care about them. Who wants to do good for rapists and murderers who tell me they want to fuck me sideways every single day?
The things the offenders tell me, it makes me want to take a shower right then and there.
But how do I study to be a nurse and work at the same time? I feel really trapped.
Being the eldest child can sometimes be a curse, a burden hard.
Anyway, I’m on a diet. Just water all day, then in the evenings, I eat whatever I like. Put on five kilos since I completed my Correctional Officer’s Training Course.
Too many McDonald’s quarter pounders with cheese. Lol! I’m also miserable because my uniform is so tight on me, one of the prisoners told me I have a camel toe, then all the others started laughing at me.
I was so embarrassed, I went to the office and slipped on a panty liner but it didn’t help.
I hate Remington. Wish someone would burn it to the ground.
CHAPTER TWELVE
7 th December
Dear Diary, today, I met a prisoner called Tom Botha. He’s been incarcerated for murder. I didn’t want to ask what he was in for. We were taught never to ask. But he volunteered the information, then explained that he was framed.
I find it really hard to believe that he committed such a terrible crime.
He’s so sweet and he’s got such a nice smile. Always-ready smile. And when he does, the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples show.
He’s really a gentleman.
He asked me why I looked blue. I didn’t answer, but he pressed me for an answer, so I told him I miss my family. He told me he missed his family too. His bitch of an ex-wife framed him, then took all his money and ran off with her Australian lover.
I hate women like that. Some women don’t appreciate a good man. Guess they don’t recognize a good man.
Anyway, Tom is an immigrant like me and he says that we immigrants must band together, because most Aussies don’t like immigrants. Says most of them are Pauline Handsom’s supporters.
I told him I don’t know who Pauline Handsome was, so he explained. But I don’t know much about politics so I didn’t say anything.
Anyway, he’s really friendly and polite and, as you can see, smart.
I smile to myself. Silly girl to write so openly and leave such incriminating stuff in her house. Did she really believe that the cops wouldn’t search her house if she was thought to have any link to the kidnapping?
As for most Aussies being Pauline Hanson’s supporters – that’s simply not true. Aussies have huge hearts and most of them are great people.
Tom just wanted to divide, then conquer.
Reminder: Bear is an Aussie.
I am an Aussie.
Just saying.
9 th December.
Dear Diary, guess what? Last night I was paired with Officer Dawes or Mr. Dawes. He is now my mentor at work. We worked the night shift and after an hour, he left to do something. I found myself having to guard Tom in the computer room while he did some work for Mr. Rogers, the head warden of Remington Correctional Services. He’s a former South African and he and Tom speak in Afrikaans all the time.
They seem to be very friendly.
I don’t know what Tom was doing on the computer and I didn’t want to know, but I had a strange feeling it wasn’t
I’m crying now.
I’m twenty-one, and I should be acting like a grown up but it’s hard. It’s just so lonely here.
Guess I’m not as tough as people think I am.
Working for Remington Correctional Services doesn’t make you tough. It just makes you careful.
Remington is a hell hole. It is dreary and cold and the air is …hostile. I feel the pain, the suffering, the ugliness of the place, the despair.
That’s the word, despair. When I walk into it, I become numb and I just, like, stop feeling. A robot, that’s what I’ve become.
I don’t think I am cut out to be a correctional officer. I’ve been thinking about becoming a nurse?
That would be nice. I could do something good for people, care about them. Who wants to do good for rapists and murderers who tell me they want to fuck me sideways every single day?
The things the offenders tell me, it makes me want to take a shower right then and there.
But how do I study to be a nurse and work at the same time? I feel really trapped.
Being the eldest child can sometimes be a curse, a burden hard.
Anyway, I’m on a diet. Just water all day, then in the evenings, I eat whatever I like. Put on five kilos since I completed my Correctional Officer’s Training Course.
Too many McDonald’s quarter pounders with cheese. Lol! I’m also miserable because my uniform is so tight on me, one of the prisoners told me I have a camel toe, then all the others started laughing at me.
I was so embarrassed, I went to the office and slipped on a panty liner but it didn’t help.
I hate Remington. Wish someone would burn it to the ground.
CHAPTER TWELVE
7 th December
Dear Diary, today, I met a prisoner called Tom Botha. He’s been incarcerated for murder. I didn’t want to ask what he was in for. We were taught never to ask. But he volunteered the information, then explained that he was framed.
I find it really hard to believe that he committed such a terrible crime.
He’s so sweet and he’s got such a nice smile. Always-ready smile. And when he does, the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples show.
He’s really a gentleman.
He asked me why I looked blue. I didn’t answer, but he pressed me for an answer, so I told him I miss my family. He told me he missed his family too. His bitch of an ex-wife framed him, then took all his money and ran off with her Australian lover.
I hate women like that. Some women don’t appreciate a good man. Guess they don’t recognize a good man.
Anyway, Tom is an immigrant like me and he says that we immigrants must band together, because most Aussies don’t like immigrants. Says most of them are Pauline Handsom’s supporters.
I told him I don’t know who Pauline Handsome was, so he explained. But I don’t know much about politics so I didn’t say anything.
Anyway, he’s really friendly and polite and, as you can see, smart.
I smile to myself. Silly girl to write so openly and leave such incriminating stuff in her house. Did she really believe that the cops wouldn’t search her house if she was thought to have any link to the kidnapping?
As for most Aussies being Pauline Hanson’s supporters – that’s simply not true. Aussies have huge hearts and most of them are great people.
Tom just wanted to divide, then conquer.
Reminder: Bear is an Aussie.
I am an Aussie.
Just saying.
9 th December.
Dear Diary, guess what? Last night I was paired with Officer Dawes or Mr. Dawes. He is now my mentor at work. We worked the night shift and after an hour, he left to do something. I found myself having to guard Tom in the computer room while he did some work for Mr. Rogers, the head warden of Remington Correctional Services. He’s a former South African and he and Tom speak in Afrikaans all the time.
They seem to be very friendly.
I don’t know what Tom was doing on the computer and I didn’t want to know, but I had a strange feeling it wasn’t
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