I glanced around at the other inmates. All of them were hardened by their circumstances. Their faces were etched with lines of suffering and regret. They wore their misery like a second skin, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of superiority, even if I was locked up with them. Sure, I had made my share of mistakes, but I did what I had to do for survival. I didn’t just throw my life away; I made calculated moves, and the only reason I had gotten caught is because it turns out that my son was smarter than I thought.
Every day here felt like a prison within a prison. The food was bland and tasteless, served on trays that reminded me more of a school cafeteria than a place meant to rehabilitate. The stench of every room was a mix of sweat and despair that clung to my clothes.
As I stared aimlessly at the TV, the same crew of 111 Boyz who had jumped me the first day I got locked up strolled in. Theircrew had grown since then as more and more of them got arrested every day. Their taunting laughter echoed off the walls as they came in. They were always on the lookout for a chance to make my life hell. They’d been terrorizing me day in and day out. It was no longer just about avenging Jeremy’s death; they treated it like a game, and I was their favorite target.
Each time they spotted me, I could see the twisted thrill in their eyes of making me feel small and weak. They’d throw insults my way, trying to get a rise out of me, laughing at my every flinch. They’d corner me in the yard or during meals, pushing me around like I was nothing. Just a few days ago, they’d jumped me again, and I still hadn’t fully healed from the bruises they’d left behind. Every painful movement I made reminded me of their fists connecting with my skin as their laughter rang in my ears.
I felt the tension building inside me as they closed in. Fear crept up my spine. Every time we had an altercation, I wondered what if this time was worse. I wondered what if they decided that particular time to kill me. The thought made my heart race so intensely that a sharp pain shot through my chest. I was living in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.
“Look at this bitch-ass nigga.”
“Weak bitch.”
As the 111 Boyz closed in around me, their taunts bounced off the cold concrete walls. I could feel their eyes boring into me. Their laughter was like a pack of wolves circling their prey. Just when I thought they were about to make a move, a correctional officer stepped into the room.
“Scott!” the officer barked my last name as he looked around the room.
Just as I discreetly exhaled with relief, his eyes finally found me. “Your lawyer is here to see you.”
“O–Okay.” I wasted no time getting out of there.
“You lucky, bitch. But we’ll see you around,” one of the 111 Boyz gritted as I carefully made my way through their huddle.
I followed the correctional officer through the maze of the jail. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare on the grimy tiles below. The hallways were lined with heavy steel doors. The air smelled stale and hopeless. I could hear the faint sounds of shouting and the clanging of metal.
We finally reached the visitation room, a small, dimly lit space with a few plastic chairs and a thick glass partition separating us from the other side. I could see a couple of other inmates sitting with their visitors having conversations that were muffled through the glass.
When I stepped into the visitation room, my lawyer, Bradley, was already seated at the small table wearing a serious expression. I could tell he wasn’t here to share good news. I took a seat across from him and braced myself for what he was about to say.
As I sat down at the table, a sharp pain shot through my ribs, making me flinch. Bradley noticed. His brow wrinkled with concern as he glanced over my bruises. “Are you okay?”
“Could be better,” I muttered, forcing a sarcastic grin that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Had another encounter with the 111 Boyz.”
Bradley leaned in closer. “What happened?”
I shook my head, groaning. “They just don’t let up, man. It’s like they’re bored or something. I swear, every time I turn around, they’re in my face, taunting me, pushing me around. It’s a fucking game to them at this point.”
Bradley frowned as concern deepened in his eyes. “You need to be careful. I can’t have you getting into more trouble while we’re trying to sort this out. You already have enough on your plate.”
I leaned back in my chair, wincing again as the movement jostled my ribs. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to stay out of trouble when they’re actively looking for a reason to fuck with me.”
Bradley nodded. “I get that, but we need to focus on getting you out of here. Just try to keep your head down. I’ll do what I can on my end.”
I appreciated what he was saying, but keeping my head down was becoming increasingly difficult.
Sighing, Bradley sat back. “Damar, we need to talk. In light of Mia’s body being found, you are the DA’s prime suspect. They are forming a case against you. Given that, the DA has taken the previously offered deal off the table for Jeremy’s murder.”
Panic struck me. “I can’t be stuck in this hellhole while we go to trial. The 111 Boyz are on my back. They’re making my life miserable in here.”
Bradley nodded, understanding my panic. “I get it, but right now, you have a couple of options. You can enter a straight guilty plea, which could help you get a lighter sentence, but—”
“But what?” I pressed. “I don’t want to sit here for a lengthy trial. I don’t have time for this.”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Look, I can’t promise you anything. The DA is working hard to gather the evidence they need to charge you with Mia’s murder. If that happens, you’ll still be stuck in the county while you wait for trial.”
The room felt like it was closing in on me. I couldn’t stand the thought of staying in this jail for what felt like an eternity, especially with the constant threat of the 111 Boyz looming over me. “What if I just confess to Mia’s murder?” I blurted desperately. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get out of here.”
Bradley looked taken aback. His brows wrinkled in concern. “Damar, that’s a serious decision. You need to think this through.Confessing to two murders will guarantee a very lengthy sentence. You’ll most likely never get out of prison.”
