‘Fuck you’ he screamed
‘Is that right son,’ replied the man sardonically
‘Fucking right it’s right, you ugly fat bastard’
the (now) angry man shouted, ‘Restraint’
Two other men promptly arrived
Pumped up and aware of the audience
They grabbed the small boy
Whose parents had just cancelled another visit
Who needed love and understanding
Even if he would reject it with teeth and nails
They wrestled his wriggling body to the floor
Face down, he struggled violently
The largest of the three men sat on his back
The other two sat down upon wildly kicking legs
Struggling for air, he screamed, ‘Get the fuck off me’
He told them he couldn’t breathe,
‘I can’t fucking breathe’
‘We’ll get off when you calm down’, panted the overweight man on his back
he repeated it several times, ‘I can’t fucking breathe’ I can’t breathe’ I can’t…’
‘When you calm down’ he repeated, with added spittle and sweat
A final panic-induced struggle left his body
He went limp before our eyes
Transfixed we watched through the window
Restraint was commonplace and compelling
It had happened to all of us
It happened every day
One staff member mentioned he’d turned a funny colour
The men stood up and looked at each other
They looked weak, visibly smaller, somehow older, haggard even
As if they wore a life-time’s wrong-doing on their faces
Dorian Gray paintings momentarily come to life
One left the corridor to call an ambulance
They falsified the report
Didn’t mention his final cries for breath
They were sympathetically questioned
No-one asked us, the real witnesses
We kicked-off later that night
The storm after the lull
Breaking things, fighting each other
When they restrained me I tried to replay the scene,
I screamed, kicked wildly, went limp,
I couldn’t die
Wee Tommy was really funny,
He pulled mental goofy faces,
Was good at climbing onto roofs,
He always ate his chips with brown sauce
and hated sleeping with the light off.
Tommy never got the chance to look back on it all
To say, ‘what was that all about, it wasn’t normal after all?’