Lost Innocence: The Accused. Part One (3 page)

“
I can talk my way
out of trouble.”

“
What do the Thais
think about us?”

“
Not much, but they
think we have money.”

“
What if we
don’t?”

“
You don’t do well
without it, not here.”

“
I’ve seen vouchers.
How do they
work?”

“
Almost everything is
paid for with vouchers or coupons that you buy from a
guard.”

“
How are the
guards?”

“
Lazy bastards that
have trusted inmates called ‘trusties’ or ‘blue-shirts’ working for
them.”

“
Do they ever get
rough?”

“
Not if you pay. The
poorer inmates are beaten.”

“
That’s sad. What can
you do about that?”

“
I find its best not
to get involved and besides it’s so hot out here, it never lasts
long.”

“
Can you buy sun
cream?”

“
No sun cream or
condoms, just in case you’re looking at the lady-boys. There’s
plenty of AIDS lingering about and every STD you can
imagine.”

“
Can I at least get a
razor and a tooth brush?”

“
You can buy
disposable razors, toothbrushes, paste, soaps and similar stuff at
a stall near the laundry. They open it every Friday.”

“
What about toilet
paper?”

“
I’ve never seen that
in here. Thais don’t use it.”

“
You never told me
why they moved you here.”

“
I pay a guard so I
can move every few months. I’ve been looking for someone to talk
to.”

“
I’m glad you
arrived. I was about to be raped.”

“
It looked that way
and don’t ever cry in here. You show weakness, you will get
raped.”

As the sun poured
down, we talked about the rules of the prison, or rather he talked
and I listened. I was glad to have found a friend.

“
That’s enough about
that,” he concluded. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re
here?”

I considered sharing
and figured I should tell him something. “You want the long or the
short?”

“
What do
you think?”

FOUR

“
I WAS
decent at sketching at school but when I floated
the idea of attending Art school, my dad wasn’t keen. He didn’t
appreciate my gift but I stymied him when I was awarded a
scholarship to one of the most prestigious Art colleges in
London.

I had a few months
before my first term and decided on a trip to Thailand. My plan was
to sketch ‘Working girls’ that worked the seedy hostess bars of
Bangkok. I liked the look of them and had seen enough online to
send my libido off the Richter scale.

Within days of
arriving, I rented a real
studio and
it
didn’t take long to find the bars. I
saw an interesting looking place, local to me and stepped inside. A
girl wearing a long, red evening-gown with a slit in the side
caught my attention. Her face was made-up nicely and her eyes had a
look of a dreamy sadness. Her curvy body was to lust for; her hair
was long and black – I was drawn to her. I met Mon the mamasan,
paid the bar-fine and waited while Bee changed.

She appeared a few
minutes later in a pair of ripped jeans and a short, tangerine
t-shirt that barely reached her belly button. I took her home in a
taxi and directed her to the bathroom to change.
I placed my sketchpad on its easel, searched
through my pencils and selected two of a similar shade.

I waited a while then
leaning my head to one side; I caught a glimpse of her in the
bedroom
kicking off her jeans. She stood
there in a tight pair of tiger panties that stretched over her taut
buttocks - I couldn’t help but stare. She pulled her t-shirt over
her head and unclipped her tiger bra exposing her upturned breasts.
She slid down her panties revealing a tiny path of pubic hair and
then tossing her clothes onto the chair; she stepped over to the
bed and slipped between the sheets.

She saw me watching
her, grinned cheekily then turned back the top sheet, inviting me
to join her. My heart was racing. I had the most beautiful girl in
my bed waiting for me, but all I could think about was sketching
her.

I walked over, held
out a towel and waited as she wriggled
into it. I led her to the studio and sat her on a
stool facing me. She watched as I began sketching
her, but couldn’t keep still.
I offered
her a whisky Cola and after several sips, she relaxed.

I sketched her for
hours, pausing only to loosen my wrists, change pencils or take a
drink. When I was ready, I showed her what I’d done. She smiled,
took a picture on her mobile then sent it to a friend.

We worked all night,
finishing in the early hours of the morning. I paid her a couple of
thousand, put her into a taxi, returned to my studio then rolled
into bed.
Against my better judgement I
had allowed her beauty and innocent charm to burn into my brain – I
knew I had to see her again.

Over the next weeks,
I took Bee and other girls back and my pencil came alive when I
did. I slept most days, worked tirelessly through the nights and it
wasn’t long before my studio was filled with sketches depicting,
what I considered to be some of the most beautiful bar-girls in
Bangkok.

One evening I was
invited to take a girl I’d never seen her before called Mia. She
had long, brown hair and a firm figure that curved in all the right
places.
She moved warily as if experience
had taught her that and watching her glide towards me made me think
of honey dripping from a spoon. She looked a little younger than
the rest, but Mon had insisted that I take her, so I
did.

We entered my studio;
she flicked through my sketches and her eyes lit up. I pointed out
the bathroom; she disappeared to change and returned in just a
towel. She made us both a drink then I sat her on the stool facing
away from me. I tried to pull the towel slightly from her shoulders
but she stopped me. ‘What you do?’

‘
I want to sketch
your neckline. Can I?’

She nodded and
allowed me to slip the towel from her shoulders. I stepped back,
looked over and was shocked. She had dropped it to her waist. Her
thick, black hair now hung down her long, slender back. I loved the
pose, took up my pencil and began.

Once I was finished,
I invited her to see. She glided over like a ghost, her hair
hanging over her breasts, rubbing gently against her nipples. I
felt her warm, soft breath caressing the back of my neck as she
stood behind me. She seemed to like her sketch. She came around to
face me, undid her towel and let it fall to the floor. She stood
naked before me. She was gorgeous, enticing, inviting but I was
suddenly tired; my energy was drained and my mind was somewhere
else. I tried to focus, picked up the towel and wrapped it back
around her waist.

It may have been the
alcohol or simply the lack of sleep but I was incapable and
couldn’t go on. She took my hand, led me to the bedroom and lay me
on the bed. She pulled off my clothes. I didn’t stop her; it was
challenging enough just staying awake - then my heavy eyes gave in
- I was gone.

The sound of knocking
on a door dragged me back to consciousness. Looking over at the sun
shining brightly through the blinds, it was clear it was day. I
threw back the covers, pulled on my clothes and followed the
knocking to the main door. I swung it open to be met by Annie the
landlady, flanked on either side by two uniformed
policemen.

‘
They come for you,’
she snapped.

My head felt sore.
‘What do they want?’

‘
They take you to
station.’

‘
What…why?’

She didn’t reply.
Everybody was so serious so I quickly gathered my things and
returned to the main door. Gripping an arm each, they hauled me out
of the building and wedged me into the back of a car.

At the station I was
marched down a dimly-lit corridor then thrown into a small,
windowless room. It had a wooden table, three chairs and a small
fan that wasn’t on. They left me alone and locked the door. I
turned the fan on full then reached for my phone but damn; I’d left
it at home.

The door opened and a
senior-looking policeman with hooded eyes, thin greying hair and a
double chin, stepped in. He sat down, took a file from a folder and
opened it. ‘I am Police Captain Nincotte.’

‘
Hello.’

‘
You are Michael
Walker?”

‘
Yes, and I’ve no
idea why I’m here.’ 

He took a long, heavy
sniff like a hound dog on a hunt then smelt my breath. ‘I can smell
the alcohol lingering in the air. You had a few last
night?’

‘
That’s not a
crime.’

‘
It’s not, but taking
an underage girl home is. The girl you took last night was only
fourteen.’

The memory that Mia
looked younger than the others suddenly jolted me.

‘
She says you beat
and then raped her.’

‘
What! I didn’t touch
her. I only sketched her.’

He pursed his lips
then placed some disturbing photographs in front of me. ‘Take a
look.’

‘
What is
this?’

‘
It’s pictures of
bruising on her body.’

‘
I told you, I didn’t
touch her.’

He pushed some
paperwork under my nose.

‘
I can’t read
Thai.’

‘
Tell me what
happened last night.’

‘
I took Mia back to
sketch her and that’s all I ever did. Whatever happened after she
left the studio has nothing to do with me.’

‘
Your semen was found
inside her.’

‘
That’s not possible
and in any event, how do you know it was mine?’

‘
It’s all in the
report.’

‘
I told you I can’t
read Thai.’

‘
Her parents don’t
wish to press charges, but they will need compensation to cover all
the medical costs and trauma. She will require counselling. You
need to pay a hundred and twenty thousand baht.’

The penny finally
dropped. This was a scam and I was its latest victim. Well, he’d
picked the wrong guy this time. ‘I won’t pay!’

I used his silence to
get my thoughts in order. He had to be a corrupt cop. The evidence
was false. My semen inside her; how could he have had that tested
so quickly and how would he know it was mine? He’d have to have had
my DNA on record and how could he have it
here in
Thailand. That huge amount
of cash would take care of whoever was involved.

He gathered up his
paperwork with a sigh. ‘You’ll have to pay or you’ll go to jail.
I’ll give you some time to think it over.’

He rose and left the
room. I could still feel the alcohol seeping from my sweat, fear
was beginning to grip me and I was desperately trying to suppress
it. One thing was certain and I had to hold on to it like a life
raft; I didn’t rape or beat any girl.

He returned with a
smug smile on his face. ‘I have some good news.’

My eyebrows raised a
‘what’.

‘
The bar has agreed
to pay twenty thousand. After all, they had employed an underage
girl. You pay only a hundred thousand and you can leave
today.’

This blatant attempt
to manoeuvre me only confirmed my suspicion that I was being set up
and stiffened my resolve to resist it.

‘
I would pay if I
were you; if you don’t you’ll go to prison until a Court date is
set. That could take a while and Thais don’t take kindly to
farang
rapists.’

It was as if his
English was too good and this whole thing had been rehearsed. ‘Mr
Walker?’

I gritted my
teeth.
‘I’m not guilty. I won’t
pay.’

‘
The longer you leave
this, the more difficult it will be to release you. Are you sure
you won’t pay?’

I nodded
- he left. Two policemen stepped in,
pulled me to my feet and escorted me out to an over-night cell. It
was a small room with a concrete floor, stained walls and smelt
like rat faeces. There was no blanket or pillow and when I pulled
the cord to the overhead fan, it whirred for a while then stopped
dead. I wasn’t given any food or water and as I sat there alone, it
wasn’t long before I had fallen prey to an army of ants. Throughout
the night my earlier resolve ebbed and flowed. I was afraid and
missed my family more than ever before.

The following
morning I was given a bottle of warm water and a
small bag of rice with a miniscule amount of sliced chicken
sprinkled on top. The rice tasted rough and the chicken was tough.
I was allowed five minutes in a small, smelly bathroom while a
policeman waited outside. It smelt of burnt hair and came with
cracked tiles and a stained squat toilet that hadn’t been cleaned
in a while. There was no hot water, no towel, no toothbrush,
absolutely nothing. I made the best of it, washed, cleaned my teeth
with my finger then tidied my hair.