text: The Thought The thick door slid shut, a metal bolt with its massive sound slid across finding its home. I guess I’m now home, here in my box, although I'm sure I'll be provided with a ‘mate’ soon. I hope he's not violent or found himself through religion. I don't belong here, I didn't kill her. Kill her! Kill her? Did I? Can't remember, I wouldn't have, would I, how did I end up leaning over her, oh god the blood; everywhere. Her face curved the wrong way, not again. He leant forward and wretched a colourful spill of vile scented lunch onto the floor. Wiping the curds of vomit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and then across his trousers. I suppose I should call for a mop, that stinks, can I call for cleaning products, how does this place even work, I suppose I'll figure it out in time. But I didn't kill her, not me, never me. ‘You did do it though James’ spoke that maniacal voice again ‘you did it, I did it, we did it!, why didn't you tell them about me James’. James leapt at the sound, and inspected his cell, empty just him, alone, mumbling again as he did in court, despite the advice to remain still. You said if I let you in, just once, everything would be okay. ‘It will James, it will, everything will be just fine inside, think of how many people will we can kill’.