Sleepers Page #6

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You're eating into my shift.

I'll get out of your way...for now.

I'll take what I can get.

You boys get off your knees.

It's a tragedy. I'll tell you.

I don't understand you boys.

I don't think you know what it means to have rules.

You gotta have rules, and you gotta have discipline.

I don't know what it was like in your homes and your home lives, but...

...in my house with my father, there were rules!

And if you didn't follow the rules, there was hell to pay.

You had rules, and you had discipline.

Sometimes, it wasn't nice, but we learned. We sure did learn.

Right around there to the right. There you go.

I mean, it's a simple thing, really. You got rules, and you got discipline.

That's the beginning of the story, and that's the end of the story.

We understand each other?

Turn and face the wall.

Now, we got interrupted earlier in the lunch room, but...

...there's no one to interrupt us here now.

What do you want?

A blow job.

Down on your knees.

Face the wall.

There are no clear pictures of the sexual abuse we endured.

I buried it as deep as it could possibly go.

What I remember most clearly from that chilly October night...

...was that it was my fourteenth birthday...

...and the end of my childhood.

Early in my stay, I'd written and asked my father not to come.

I couldn't look at my father and have him see on my face...

...all that had happened to me.

Michael had done the same with the interested members of his family.

Tommy's mother couldn't get it together to visit.

John's mother came up once a month.

But no one could stop Father Bobby from visiting.

So listen, let's try to keep this on a happy note, okay?

Nokes warned us not to say anything to Father Bobby.

If we did, reprisals would be severe.

You lost a few pounds.

It's not exactly home cooking.

Sit down.

This is where I get to see all four of you guys today.

I loved Father Bobby, but I couldn't stand to look at him.

I was afraid he'd look right through me...

...past the fear and shame, right through to the truth.

Shakes, is there anything you want to tell me?

Anything at all?

You shouldn't come here anymore, Father.

I appreciate it and all, but...

...l don't think it's the right thing for you to do.

I stopped off at Attica today on my way up here to see an old friend.

You have any friends not in jail?

Not as many as I would like.

What's he in for?

Triple murder. He killed three men about fifteen years ago.

And he's a good friend?

He's my best friend.

We hung out together.

We were close... just like you and the guys.

We were both sent up here.

That's right. And it wasn't easy...

...just like it's not easy for you and the guys.

This place killed him... made him not care anymore.

Don't let this place do that to you, Shakes.

Don't let it make you think you're tougher than you are.

I've got to go, Father.

I'll see you in the Kitchen.

I'm counting on you.

Wipe the tears off your face. Don't let them see it.

Don't let them see you crying. Don't give them the satisfaction.

You'll be out of here before you know it.

You're gonna be okay.

I didn't want to let him go.

I never felt as close to anyone as I felt to him at that moment.

A number of the inmates, as tough as they acted during the day...

...would often cry themselves to sleep at night.

There were other cries, too.

These differed from those filled with fear and loneliness.

They were lower and muffled; the sounds of pained anguish.

Those cries can change the course of a life.

They are cries that, once heard, can never be erased from memory.

On this one night, those cries belonged to my friend, John...

...when Ralph Ferguson paid him a visit.

I was expecting to read book reports over the weekend.

There are only for me to read... which means I'm missing how many?

This is English class. Math is down the hall.

I want to help you. You may not believe that.

Or you may not care, but it's the truth.

-You got a second? -What, I do something wrong?

No. You did a great job on your book report.

You really seemed to like the book, "The Count of Monte Cristo."

It's my favorite. I like it more since I've been here.

Why is that?

It's like...he wouldn't let anyone beat him, the Count.

Took what he had to take, beatings, insults and whatever.

And he learned from it.

Then when the time came for him to do something, he made his move.

-You admire that? -No, I respect that.

You got a copy of the book at home?

I got the Classics Illustrated Comic.

No, it's not the same thing.

Listen, I gotta go. I'm gonna miss morning roll call.

I've got something for you.

I thought you might like to have it.

Are you serious?

Well, you love the book that much. You should have a copy of your own.

-I can't pay you. -It's a gift.

You've gotten gifts before, haven't you?

It's been a while.

-Well, it's my way of saying, thanks. -For what?

That somebody listens... even if it's just one student.

You're a good teacher, Mr. Carlson.

Listen, we can discuss the book on Friday in class if you...

...think the Count can hold their attention.

He's got a shot.

Any particular section I should read from?

That's easy...the part where he escapes from prison.

There you go, All Star. Here's your locker room!

It was only a game...just a touch football game, nothing more.

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