JAX lined up with the methadone gang and a handful of older inmates.

‘Whatcha on?’ came a scratchy voice from behind.

Jax ignored the question and kept his eyes trained on the nurse behind an enclosed counter who was checking ID and dispensing the daily doses. All medication was handed out after muster. Whether it be an aspirin or an antidepressant, prisoners requiring medication were made to collect it from this guarded counter each morning.

‘Painkillers, right?’ came the scratchy voice again.

Jax didn’t flinch.

‘Codeine? Or you on the good stuff? Tramies? Endone? Schedule eights?’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Jax growled as he turned. He grabbed the man by his mullet. ‘Or . . .’

Jax let go, a surge of guilt slapping him in the face when what he thought was only a tug almost buckled the man. He’d been brought up better than that. He wasn’t a bully. He didn’t hurt people. He rarely swore. He was disciplined. Had self-control. The army had made sure of that. But it was getting harder by the day. Jax could feel himself changing. His empathy was becoming apathy.

He turned back to the front, brushing the hairs from his hand and shaking his head. He shouldn’t have snapped. But at least he had shut him up.

‘Tramies?’ came the voice again, undeterred and louder this time. ‘Fuck yeah. Tramadol. Gotta be for an eye like that. Whatta ya want? Cash? A suck?’

Jax groaned when the man poked him in his ribs. His broken ribs. Without warning, apathy morphed into anger. Still, he was no bully. He wouldn’t hurt him. He would outsmart him instead.

‘Just Panadol, bra,’ he said, remembering how the junkies spoke in the clinic. ‘Tramies? I wish. Nah, the nurse was being a bitch, wouldn’t give me shit. Said it’s just a bruise. Fuck, bra. I’d be smashing that shit up if I got it. Wouldn’t sell it for shit. What are you getting? Anything good?’ He turned to look at the man, then evoked his best Marsh impression and winked. ‘Want to share?’

‘Fuck off, ya queer,’ came the response. ‘Nah, nothing. Just some HIV shit. I’ve got AIDS. Herpes too.’

Jax didn’t hear another word until he reached the nurse, and she handed over two tablets – one of them a tramadol.

‘Fucking knew it,’ the man behind him exclaimed as he glimpsed the tablet. ‘Don’t swallow it,’ he pleaded as Jax washed the tablets down with water. ‘Ah, fuck. FUCK!’

Jax showed the nurse his empty mouth.

‘How about tomorrow? Tell me what ya want?’

‘To be left alone,’ Jax growled as he walked away. He was clear of the line and about to turn back into the wing when—

Whack!