Your Favorite

4.

~NY County Jail ~
one week later

i felt like my world was falling apart. two days and i've yet to hear from my baby. her birthday passed but still nothing. i'm not sure of the wellness of my child.... but i can't even make a big deal about it cause that's my fault.

i'm the reason.

i guess this is apart of my punishment. it's fucked up but whatever. she promised she would always keep in touch with me. no matter what happened or how long it took, she's supposed to stay in contact.

i've yet to give them a call in fear that they won't answer me. that'll crush my soul. i have enough crushed spirit in me just from being where i am.

"maraj, kitchen duty."

i huffed wiping my face with the white towel, being sure i got all the crust from my eyes. one thing i can't ignore in here is my job. these guards will put their hands on you like you're a nigga off the streets.

i've been through enough of that.

the breakfast shipment had came so i met with some of the girls to start everything. nothing but the usual nasty oatmeal and toast. i starve in this piece of shit. most days i'm not eating, just drinking plenty water until i can't anymore.

i pee like i'm pregnant.

"damn maraj, we ain't seen you out that cell since yesterday morning. you good?"

"i'm fine tee." i ripped the box open and took out the premade food. that's so disgusting man. after all these years i still can't get jiggy with the food.

"aye i heard you got a witness on ya case. you think you gon be getting out soon." another one of the girls asked but i didn't know her. i've been on kitchen duty with her for years and i still don't know her name. that's how much of my business i mind.

what's going on with my case has nothing to do with anyone, so the questions being asked went ignored. they know i don't talk to them; i don't know what they thought changed.

i'm just here to do my time or possibly die in here. whichever comes first.

we had the food ready, setting up as girls came to the line slowly. i filled trays as they slid down, giving equal portions to everyone. no matter how big or how small, everybody got the same shit from me.

but there's always one whale back bitch that got something to say to me.

"you know i need some more, that ain't enough."

"i don't know shit. get out my line."

"bitch-"

"bitch you got ten seconds or imma mix you with this oatmeal. get the fuck on."

"i'll see you." she snatched her tray and walked off with a stanky ass limp. i guess i'm supposed to be scared of this overgrown woman. she look over 45 but i know she isn't. wide as all outside.

filling up trays felt like a forever thing. i could do it without looking; i was in my own head. just thinking about my family. what could be the reason that they're not calling me? did they move? momma would've told me that....