“Always liked the newbies.” He smelled my hair pressing against me as bile rose in the back of my throat. Garcia, as I quickly learned, had a desire for hurting others. He rubbed his greasy motherfucking nose against me, making my skin crawl. Acid bubbled low in my stomach. Luckily, I hadn’t eaten anything at lunch so nothing was going to come up.

“Don’t touch me.” I tried to dislodge my arm from his grasp, but he held firm, squeezing until my skin was pinched and my eyes leaked weak tears. I would feel those bruises for days and no one would care.

“That’s just it, new girl. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.” His breath danced across my skin like razor blades ready to cut deep. “You play nice, and things will go so much better for you. Don’t play nice, and I’ll make your life a living hell for the next five years, bitch.” He shoved me against the wall, rubbing his erect dick against me. It wasn’t any consolation knowing his pecker was as small as his brain. Just because he was small didn’t meant he couldn’t hurt me in other ways, but it made sense why he was such an asshole.

Four years, seven months, and twenty-nine days.

The mantra repeated in my head, and each day would be one less to suffer through. He knew nothing about me. Bile rose in my throat burning my nose. I found the energy to finally hit someone out of self-defense, but he let me go. I rubbed my arm, working out the pain, and he nodded to the corridor filled with bunk beds.

“Sweet dreams.” He pushed me down the hall.

“I’m already in hell.” I hissed back taking a step away behind the barred partition.

Garcia sauntered off leaving me to make my way back to my cell. If I had a shank I would stab him over and over until the smug expression was off his face. Never had I felt a level of revulsion and violence before. Apparently, I had to come to prison to get crooked.

I thought about Warden Sheppard. The way he stood in the cafeteria watching, waiting. His body seemed poised to anticipate something, but what I didn’t know. There was an edge to him buffered by his low voice when he spoke, refined and in charge. He was the complete opposite of Garcia. I didn’t know yet if that was good or perhaps worse but there was a gentleness in him I found unexpected in place like this. It had been a longtime since I’d felt a spark of anything sexual. I was beginning to think that part of me might have died when I was incarcerated and I hadn’t missed it until now.

“Nene, you okay?” Turning abruptly, Sharee leaned up from her bunk. No. I would never be okay. I would never be the same. I would never trust again.

I would-just-never-be.

I wiped my good arm over my face clearing it of tears and pushing all thoughts of the warden behind me. “Yeah, I will be.” I lied climbing into my top bunk across from her and rolled over facing the wall. The grayish blue paint was drab and far from a fancy hotel. I pressed my nail against the paint and made an indentation. I’d count the days if it killed me, making a small slash, bending my nail from the pressure. Day one down, I let my eyes drift shut and released my mind into sleep.

The next morning came too quickly, but I relished the time passing. I had learned that my remaining savings, a few hundred dollars had been used up for legal fees. I wasn’t sure how they managed that, but my funds for the commissary were zero. Not that I wanted anything, but a clean pair of underwear, or flip-flops for the shower would have been nice. Pads were provided once a month; I only had to wait for a guard to get them for me. I figured I’d be bleeding through my toilet paper pad before then, but Sharee got some from the pregnant girl in our room since she was pretty plugged up the next few months anyway.

More favors I owed.

Countless debts racked up.

Showers were first this morning for my block and then breakfast, the day was broken up in segments and my sticky, damp shoes squeaked on the tiles. Hopefully, I would be able to go outside later and have the sun dry these things before my toes started to rot. I said hopefully because the sun drifted behind clouds and the sky got dark, raining down huge droplets into the yard creating mud puddles from the window where I viewed outside. Going out wasn’t happening today.

Lunch was pretty much the same. Our little table of newbies crowded together, and the Tribe members eyed us up and down. I bet they were picking out their next victim to attack. They had upgraded the woman named Maris to sitting with them after she dumped my tray. Either that was good for me or bad. I hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought, considering day two was starting out decent.

Sharee pointed at me with her spoon having licked the pudding off the end of it. “Listen, Nene. Word is that you pissed off some Tribes. Watch your back around here.”

“I got the message loud and clear.” I pushed the food around on my tray again. Nothing appetizing about chicken parmesan that looked like someone made a crime scene of the breast patty and no cheese topping it. I stabbed the green string beans with my flimsy plastic spork. Overcooked but firm enough to eat. At this rate, I’d die of malnutrition before my parole hearing and save the taxpayers a bunch of money.

“Here, take mine. The smell is making me sick.” Raina, the pregnant girl pushed her green beans onto my tray mumbling about texture and foods she was craving.

“It’s probably her shoes.” Sharee commented and dumped her beans onto my tray and taking my slaughtered chicken patty instead.

“Eww gross.” Raina didn’t know the half of it, but maybe the smell would keep the more violent of the crazies away.

After lunch, I managed to avoid the Tribe members by keeping close to Sharee. She introduced me to a few members of the Sunshine Sisters, an African American gang that she hung out with. She was like the prison den mother, acting as a liaison of sorts between the groups and organizing the smuggling of contraband. She was a regular Boston Tea Party Patriot, minus the Boston part, the tea, and the patriotism.

Each new day was a learning experience. I was shocked to hear that women smuggled in porn, they hooked up inside, and then some resumed a normal life of sorts outside of here. Whatever the definition of normal was, it wasn’t for me. I got along well with the other women and kept my mouth shut. Getting back to our cell after dinner I found a bundle on top of my bunk.

“Sharee, what’s that?”

“What’s what, honey pie?”

“Uh, you know what.” Annoyed, my brow furrowed as I looked over my shoulder. “I asked you to not get me anything.” I reached up pulling the stuff down. Shit like this was going to be nothing but trouble for me.

“Girl, I didn’t talk to nobody. You get your crazy head on straight.” Waving me off, she resumed doing her own thing, checking out her own stash of items. Would we always be this particular about the few meager possessions we had?

“Right, okay.” I looked over the items in my hands. A pair of shoes, new, and my size were the most obvious. The best part was how clean they smelled, new rubber soles and fresh. I never thought new shoes would be that life affirming and hopeful, but they were. Inside the one shoe was a bottle of shampoo and conditioner, a new toothbrush and toothpaste, the kinds of things I wouldn’t be able to buy from the comissary yet. In the other shoe, a pair of pale pink cotton underwear tucked down into the toe. It wasn’t the regulation white cotton shit everyone else got. This pair was pretty, delicate, and edged in lace so fine it rippled against my fingertips as I touched it. I’d have to be careful wearing them because I didn’t need any undue reactions if I was caught with something pretty. Something someone might covet. I just didn’t need any more attention.

My fairy godmother or guardian angel had come in and given me the basic necessities for surviving in here while making me feel girly again. I was cautiously grateful if a little paranoid.

Who did stuff like this?

“Anything good?”

“Nothing worth sharing,” I lied prying off my disgusting wet shoes in favor of the new ones. I used a rough paper towel to wipe my feet clean putting the shoes on. I went to put the underwear in my one drawer under the stack of three white pairs I was currently issued. Unrolling them, a small piece of paper fell out, and I looked around and picked it up. Sharee was busy straightening her stuff and giving her bed tucked in hospital corners. No one was paying me any attention for once. My back to the room, I unrolled the paper cautiously so it wouldn’t make a sound and read the hastily scrawled note.

No need to say thank you. I hope they’re the right size.

The note was unsigned, but there was only one person who could have done it.

The warden, damn him. I didn’t know if I should smile or cry.