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It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed after Pete was called away to the warden’s office that the guys at our table stood up, grabbing their trays. I had no other choice but to follow them, stuffing a piece of bread into my mouth. God knows I would regret it later if I didn’t put something into my gut. You couldn’t take food back to your cell with you, I remembered reading or hearing about that with my orientation….as if I would want to take any of this crap back with me.

Each of us had to dump what was left on our trays into the garbage bins at the end of the line; placing the trays onto a counter in front of the kitchen. I had a million questions to ask my cell mate but knew better than to talk at this point - especially when I noticed one guard seemed to have an interest in watching me a little closer than what Pete had done.

“C.J.!” I shouted once we were back in our cell block. The Latino headed back towards where I was - standing next to a table with a bolted computer on top. “Can you show me what I need to do to get stuff from the store?”

C.J. shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ll only ask you how to do this once and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Hit the enter button..”

I grimaced as my finger hit the filthy, germ infested keyboard.

“Okay type in your number…”

I looked up at C.J. precariously through my good eye; the other one was still swollen shut. “My what?”

“The number on your wristband asshole,” the Latino hissed, gesturing toward my left wrist.

“Oh,” I replied softly.

“HOLY SHIT YOU’RE LOADED!” C.J. announced loudly, definitely grabbing attention to our table.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look up in the corner, Carter,” he said as he pointed at the monitor.

“I’ve never seen that amount in any account before…wonder if it’s an error,” someone said as he pressed against my back.

Immediately I felt uncomfortable. “Do you mind?” I hissed, shifting myself closer to the monitor trying to get away from a grossly overweight, foul smelling inmate that still seemed intent on pressing his sweaty body against me.

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

“Get the fuck off me!” I warned, I could feel my blood pressure start to rise.

Instead of giving me my space, I was shoved so hard that I my face was pressed against the computer screen.

“Just back off wouldja?” Relief instantly washed over me when I heard C.J.’s voice.

“He’s got more shit in his account that I thought anyone could have, he owes me!”

Still struggling to get people to step back and give me space I snapped when the guy behind me that was pressing harder against my back had loudly announced that I owed him money. “I don’t owe you shit asshole!”

“He owes me fifty bucks!”

I could feel my temper flair. Pushing aside all of Kevin Richardson’s famous speeches about me and my anger issues and how that leads to nothing but trouble, I opened my mouth against better judgment. “What the fuck makes you think I owe you?”

This time I got the space I wanted but I was turned around roughly in my seat.

“Laws!”

I looked up at the mountain of a guy that was insisting that I owed him fifty bucks. Shaking my head I turned my attention back to the computer.  Kevin had put $500 in my account. I guess I could see why that drew C.J.’s attention. Shutting the comments made behind me, I clicked on the essentials that I had to buy: soap, shampoo, deodorant, toothbrush….by the time I had entered the things I desperately needed I went to the items I desired. Five minutes later I had a list that probably should have me set to open up a 7/11.

Seventy-five dollars spent - apparently the weekly limit - I made sure I logged out of my account.

“When can I get this stuff?”

“You have to ask Glen if you can go to the commissary,” C.J. replied as he pointed to the guard sitting at the desk in the middle of our cell block.

“Couldn’t I had just gone to the commissary in the first place?”

“Do you think anything is that easy in prison?”

I swallowed hard hearing the reality of my situation thrown in my face. Prison!

“This is Hillsborough County Jail, not a prison,” I corrected.

“Might as well be prison. Nick this is the last stop before prison for the majority of us. It depends on what you‘re doing time for. ”

I decided to ask the question you’re not supposed to ask…”What are you doing time for?”

C.J. only smirked as he shook his head.

I couldn’t let it drop. “I asked you a question.”

“Ask Glen if you can go to the commissary to get your junk,” C.J. grunted as he walked away.

“That wasn’t what I asked you…”  

C.J. never turned around. I had crossed the line asking the forbidden question. It seemed reasonable to ask a guy that you were living in a 12 x 8 foot cell with what he was doing time for.

A sharp slap on my back grabbed my attention. “I said to move asshole.”

“I was moving,” I hissed as I stood up. I watched as a young, tattooed man took the seat I vacated. “Is that guard’s name Glen?” I pointed toward the man sitting at the desk. “Okay, guess I’m gonna have to ask myself then,” I said to myself as I limped toward the guard.

“Can I go to the commissary to get my stuff I just ordered?”

The guard didn’t acknowledge me when I asked the question.

“Can I go to the commissary to get my stuff?”

Still no reply from the guard….maybe he didn’t hear me. I lightly tapped the guy on the shoulder.

HUGE MISTAKE

Before I had time to react, I found myself on the floor, one arm pinned against my back and the guard kneeling on top of me.

“Get off me!” I yelled.

The man pressed down on my back with a knee.

“He was attacking me,” the man that had me pinned to the floor announced to a man that came in for assistance.

“Attacking you?!” I shouted.

“Shut up!” The guard shouted as he pressed harder into my back.

You know I never learned how to keep my mouth shut. “I only tapped you on the shoulder when you---”

The next thing I knew pepper sprayed into my face. I started to cough and gag when the effects took hold. The only eye I was able to see from swelled shut. Someone dragged me onto my feet. I was being led by people on either side of me to some unknown area. I could only hear the laughs, shouts and cat calls between my gasps for air.

I was dying and no one seemed to care! My self-pity suddenly turned to reality - I was in jail because someone was may be dead because of me!