I counted everything, establishing a steady structure. It was the only control I had over my life, and somewhere along the way, time stopped mattering. It was when the memories attacked the forefront of my mind. One right after the other, particularly at night.
It was exhausting trying to sleep with all my demons hovering. I began hallucinating my mom due to lack of sleep. I saw her sitting in my cell, on my bed, crying her eyes out, blaming herself. I saw her as clear as day, whispering she loved me and that she was sorry.
I ignored her, refusing to engage with the woman who overdosed in the only home I ever knew. She was the reason I spiraled, and I hated her now more than ever before.
Fuck her and fuck Kraven.
They were both the same selfish pricks. He really was her son. I was just existing, unsure of where I belonged and where I went from here. Time didn’t belong to me anymore. It didn’t bend at my will, and it didn’t respond to my questions. It was useless, suffocating me from the inside out, while everything and everyone outside these four walls were moving, living life. It was where time still went forward, and life still went on without me.
With time not moving in there, it was how they made us crack. The stale air all around us didn’t help, smelling like sweat and metal every fucking day. It didn’t matter how long the vents ran or how many times we mopped the concrete floors, the scent clung to my skin, soiling into my inmate jumpsuit.
As I sat in a disciplinary cell, my knuckles were split open. I flexed them slowly, watching my skin stretch taut. The pain stung before it dulled, and I welcomed it. I couldn’t trust anyone in this hellhole, and I wasn’t dumb enough to think otherwise.
The first week I was there, I stayed quiet. Not because I had to but because I chose to. I watched everything, figuring out how this place worked behind the scenes was my only motive. It wasthe only way I was going to survive. I still had no idea when my court dates were, when I’d go before the judge, or even speak to my lawyer. They kept me in the dark, just hoping I’d crack.
I wouldn’t put Isla in danger. I’d keep my mouth shut to keep her safe. It didn’t matter how long I’d be stuck there. I’d do it for her and my baby.
By week two, the other inmates started testing me. A shoulder running into mine a little harder than it needed to be. My tray knocked loose from my hands while I waited in line for food. Their voices were thick and loud behind me, waiting to get a reaction out of me.
I didn’t.
By the time the third week hit, everything changed. My thoughts grew sharper, cleaner, and less impulsive. The small space between thinking and acting began shrinking, and I didn’t try to stop it. I welcomed it.
When rec got called that morning, I was already on my feet. The yard looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. I wasn’t the same guy I was the day before. Everything felt closer to the surface. Whatever I’d been holding back was done waiting for the unexpected, and I took matters into my own hands.
I walked out there, shoulders loose, pace steady, eyes forward. I didn’t look for it. I didn’t need to. It found me. Or should I say he…
I kept walking as a voice came up behind me, threatening, “You think you’re something special, don’t you?”
I didn’t respond or slow down until footsteps got closer, and I was shoved forward. It was hard enough to spin me around, and this time, I didn’t let it slide.
I was ready.
I spun, faster than he expected.
“What?” he snapped, stepping closer.
I used his momentum against him, my fist slamming into his jaw the second he got the word out. The sound sliced through the air as his head snapped back, causing his body to stumble over.
There was no hesitation on my behalf. I gripped his jumpsuit, driving my knee right into his ribs. Not once, but twice before kneeing him in the balls. I punched him in the face, slamming my fists into the bloody mess that was his appearance. I did it over and over again as if he were nothing more than a boxing bag I practiced on.
It didn’t take long for hands to grab me, trying to pull me off him. I shook the men off, going in for another hit, then another and another until he dropped to his knees. I went with him, though, grabbing onto the back of his head to slam it into the ground.
Within seconds, a taser stick cracked across my shoulder blades, and pain instantly shot through my entire body. Hands roughly dragged me back. It took three guards to pin me down, with cuffs quickly snapping around my wrists, much tighter than when they arrested me.
A knee pressed into my back, holding me there. “Enough!”
They yanked me up, hauling me inside, except I was lugged in a different direction than my cell. They threw me into a concrete room in a part of the jail I’d never been.
I leaned my back against the block wall, trying to steady my breathing while looking down at my hands. Blood had dried into the lines of my skin.
This was how I decided to spend my three weeks behind bars. The silence in there pressed harder than my cell. It was the first thing I noticed. The demons were louder here while the silence trickled on.
Out of nowhere, I heard a familiar voice greet, “Impressive.”
I looked up, and the man I least expected to see came out of the shadows. Marco suddenly stood in front of me as if he belonged there.
“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, completely thrown off guard.
