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This book contains mature themes, explicit language, and scenes of a sexual nature intended for adult audiences only. It is rated R and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
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This book also includes depictions o...
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Onika Maraj New York Correctional facility
January 2, 2025
I walked into the jail, my heart pounding in my chest. The moment I stepped through the doors, I could feel the tension in the air. It smelled like cold metal and cheap disinfectant, and the walls felt like they were closing in on me.
I hesitated for a second, then walked up to the receptionist, my hands slightly shaking.
"I'm here to see Trevante Rhodes," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, looked me over and then glanced at her screen. "Okay," she said, typing something in. "You'll need to fill out this form and leave any personal items in the locker over there." She pointed to a row of small metal lockers near the wall. "No phones, no bags. Just your ID."
As I handed over my ID and walked toward the lockers, the smell of the jail hit me harder-stale air, disinfectant, and something I couldn't quite place.
It made my stomach turn. The more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got.
By the time I locked away my things, I could feel the nausea creeping up on me. I took a deep breath, trying to push it down, but it was too late.
Before I knew it, I was leaning over a trash can, throwing up, my body trembling with nerves and sickness. The sour taste lingered in my mouth as I wiped my face, feeling completely embarrassed.
The receptionist glanced up, concern flickering in her tired eyes.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer now, like she'd seen this happen before.
I nodded weakly, trying to pull myself together. "Yeah... I'm fine," I muttered, but I wasn't sure I believed it.
I walked over to the metal detector, and the officer standing nearby gave me a nod. "Step through, please."
I did as I was told, the detector beeping as I passed. The officer quickly scanned me with a handheld wand before waving me on.
"Wait here," the receptionist said, and I stood there awkwardly until an officer came up beside me. He was tall, with a no-nonsense look on his face.
"This way," he said, his voice gruff.
I followed him, my nerves spiking with every step as we walked down the long, cold hallway. My mind was racing, wondering why I was really doing this. Closure? Curiosity? I wasn't even sure anymore.
As we got closer, the officer opened a heavy metal door and gestured for me to go inside. The air felt heavier, and my heart pounded in my ears.
This was it. I was about to see the man behind my pain.
