Surviving the Jungle

Observe

For three months, I tried to remain discreet. I had heard of this zone of the Jungle before, and I had wished never to enter it. But it is too late now, because I won't ever leave it. There's no way out. As I sit in a corner of the yard, I observe my surroundings, but don't let go of my belongings. I hold a book and a few pieces of paper with some chalk sticks in my lap. I hold on to these things tightly, because I know how much some other inmates would love to steal them for themselves. Once, a girl borrowed my book, and she ripped the first chapter away before giving it back to me. I know it's a privilege to have these few things with me, and I'm only allowed to have them because I haven't caused any trouble. Marie, my favourite guard, said I could have a few pieces of paper to draw on, but if some bigger criminals become interested in me, she'll have to take them away. So I stay away from others. I keep to myself.

I look around me carefully, I'm glad nobody's interested in me. A group of vicious-looking girls kept looking at me a few weeks ago. I believe they were trying to assert dominance over me, show that they were the alphas. I lowered my head every time they passed by me, and I think it pleased them. Some other people look nice enough, but I'm too afraid to go talk to them. There's a reason why they're stuck here, in Zone 3. Nobody's innocent here. Or almost nobody. Mistakes happen.

The most dangerous criminals remain in their cells all day, but the others are allowed in the yard most of the time. I'm sitting in the left corner of the yard, against the prison wall. It casts a shadow over me, cooling my body down. It's too warm outside, and I'm struggling to get used to it. After I was convicted for murder, they took me away from my home town. The weather was much different over there, much more temperate. I hug my knees to me, my book and paper are stuck between my legs and my chest. Marie will be happy to see that I've managed to keep this book in a decent state. She hesitated to give it to me after she saw the ripped pages in the first one. I look out for her, but she's nowhere to be seen. Had she been watching the yard today, I would have asked her to take me inside for a few minutes. From time to time, she allows me in the staff room, where I can see the outside world from the balcony. We have to be careful in order not to get caught, but I'm glad she's taking this risk for me. Although I don't want her to lose her job, I know that I'll be stuck here until I die, I can't say no to this privilege. If she trusts me enough to risk her job, I can only be discreet. I won't refuse this opportunity to get a second of liberty. I wonder why she's a guard here. She's such a lovely woman, sweet and caring. I'm happy she's here and sometimes helping me. I feel safer.

Shouts from the opposite side of the yard attract my attention. I never go there, because it's mostly men, and that group of girl from earlier. I was afraid, coming here, that men would take advantage of me, but most of them have remained a safe distance away. I wouldn't be able to defend myself if they came if they came for me.

I try to see what's caused all the commotion, but a crowd has gathered around the source of the problem. Most inmates have left their occupations and are on the right side of the yard now. A bell rings before I can figure out anything and we have to go back inside. 

Some not so nice guard comes towards me as I don't stand rapidly enough in his opinion. He pulls me up by my elbow and pushes me towards the others. I try to gather my things but, some chalk sticks have fallen to the floor. Marie gave me chalk because real pen would have been too dangerous. She's generous, not stupid. I'm still a criminal to her. Moreover, some ill-intentioned inmates could have also taken the pen from me. I panic and crouch in order to retrieve them from the grass, but the guard insists and pulls on my arm again. I gather the chalk in my pocket and start to walk, but again, I'm not quick enough for the guard. The other inmates in front of me walk towards the doors. An older woman gives me a dirty look. A younger-looking boy rushes towards the door, afraid to a guard will hurt him if he's too slow. 

My guard sighs and pushes me with exasperation. I fall to my knees, only centimeters away from a man's legs, which I grab. I quickly remove my hand in fear and pass him by, only catching a glimpse of him. I mutter a quick 'sorry' and fast walk towards my cell. It's still the afternoon, so my dinner will be brought to me in a few hours. Until then, I have to find something to do. The guards have locked each cell door, and I'm now alone in my small room. Lying on the floor, I start drawing. Paper is good, but I can only have a few pages a month, so I have to be careful not to use them all at once. The concrete floor seems like a better option right now.

The cells around me are mostly silent. Only a few inmates chat with one another through the little gap with bars in the middle of each door. As usual, I keep to myself. I have to be patient, because I'll be here for a long time, unless I get killed soon.