Smoke and Mirrors (DE)

2. Deal with the devil

Joseph scrubbed his tongue hard with his cheap soft bristle commissary toothbrush as he brushed his teeth, staring at himself in the shiny piece of metal bolted to the wall they called a 'mirror'. Looking into it was what he imagined it would be look like to look through the eyes of someone with poor vision. The metal was hazy, hard to see into and scratched with random names engraved into it from the people that had called his cell home before he did. He didn't complain though, it was something.

Not being able to see yourself or have a clock to be able to tell what time it was could really fuck with someone's mental health after a while if they let it but it didn't bother Joseph, he was far too strong mentally. Rinsing his mouth, he used his arm to wipe the water off his lips, lifting his head back up and facing the photos of his loved ones he'd been sent over the years that he'd glued to his 'mirror' using dabs of toothpaste— photos of him and Dre, Prie, Kash and one single photo of Grace.

Joseph's first time serving a prison sentence was a lot easier on him than this time around. Back then he was young and in the streets and didn't have anything to live for. His first year back was the hardest having to be away from those he called family and having zero contact with the love of his life.

Grace meant what she said when she said if he didn't tell her the truth, she'd never talk to him again but he couldn't bring himself to face her. He resented her for a long time for it because he felt she left him to hang, but what was she to do upon finding out the man she fell in love with was only a meer image he'd created of himself in her mind to mask his true identity. How else was she supposed to react to learning that the same man she trusted with her life had taken lives, multiple.

Max was right, you can't build an honest life off lies. It was only a matter of time before they all came to the light. Joseph was so used to being in control that he thought he could control this situation but he couldn't. Love was Joseph's weakness, like kryptonite to Superman. Love made Joseph go against every rule in the book, every rule he'd ever been taught his whole life and it got him caught and he had no one to blame but himself.

His first year he hated himself, he was angry at the world. Joseph didn't call anyone, he hardly came out of his cell. After a while he slowly started to embrace his true self and embody his wicked ways instead of trying to force himself to be someone he was not. Joseph had to face the fact that he wasn't an outstanding member of society and never would be. He had been bred and mentally hardwired to be the twisted individual he was, this was who Max made him to be. This was the only life he knew. The longer he fought that, the harder life was for him.

" AFISA, AFISA!" (Officer, Officer)

Hearing the familiar Swahili code used to alert other inmates that an officer had entered the deck, he slipped his feet into his slides and shuffled to his cell door, it was lunch time.

Swahili, an East African language adopted into the prison system in the 70s by incarcerated members of black liberation movements such as the Black Panthers was used as a sort of secret language amongst inmates to communicate and prevent non-blacks and correctional officers from understanding them. Over time, it modernized to just code words.

Joseph tilted his head side to side cracking his neck as he stood at his cell door waiting to be served. An officer appeared in front of his cell with a greasy McDonald's bag and slide it through his chuck. Joseph opened the brown paper bag, inside, tiny baggies of cocaine.

" I need a pay raise or I'm not doing this shit no more," The officer said.

Joseph raised a brow looking up at the officer through the rusted steel bars. The officer swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he was met with Joseph's cold menacing glare. Even though Joseph was behind bars he was still able to strike fear in peoples hearts. A lot of the officers found it easier to work with Joseph rather than against him. Joseph had grown into the roll of a boss in there, or Jefe as the Hispanics called him.