He still had ideas about the places no straight lad, just turned 22, should ever have to go. The youth entered the open cell without prompting. Here, ...e had everything necessary for survival. Meals delivered through a flap, twice a day. In the corner, the metal toilet bowl with pipes leading to an unseen cistern in the ceiling. Against a wall, the sleeping platform, available from 9pm to 7am, but otherwise raised vertical to the wall – for I do not allow ‘sleep ins’ here. The tiny, useless. They insisted on still treating me like their little brother, though. Ruffling my hair every time they walked by and calling me by my unflattering nickname “Dean the Bean.” A nickname they gave me when I was younger. Being the only boy in the house, they’d found my lack/care of control over my, ahem, bodily functions a little unusual. I didn’t mind the nickname much, though. They always knew better than to use it outside of the. More

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