Imprisoned

Chapter 13

Dwayne and I made our way down the dark hall towards cell 4, we had just gotten out of rehab, and Dwayne seemed beat down as ever. I flopped down onto his bunk pressing my face against an off white pillow and screamed in anger, as I listened to the inmates squeels "Troop-er! Hahaha! Troop-er!" The taunting cries left me feeling weak, for I knew what the night would hold. I was sick of everything as I walked over to the window sized mirror hanging above the sink and inspected my reflection. A blonde nearly shaved head, disappointed face covered in scars and bumps, and my mostly scrawny figure due to being malnurashed. I then placed my hand against the mirrors cold surface, turning around to make sure Dwayne was gone, as my fist crushed and glass went flying.

I thumbed through the broken shards searching for the right shape; long, thin, and sharp. It wasn't perfect, but it would do the job.
"What do you have there?" Dwayne appeared behind me,
"Oh, umm, nothing." I responded scooting the pieces under our bunk with my foot, trying to act as natural as possible.
"Whatever." He sounded agitated as he trailed off onto the bed, looking as though he wanted to be left alone. I waltzed out of cell 4 and down the hall, through the door, down a set of stairs, through another door, and finally made my way into the yard. I was headed for the empty bleachers to my left when I was yanked back by a strong force "Who the hell is this, Vanilla ice?"

The joke had no potential of ever being funny. I understood where she was headed with the wrong race situation, that's where the 'similarities' ended. Out of all the white people in black culture to compare me too vanilla ice would be the last on the list, his music was meaningless, and he didn't have any of my physical traits. She could have at least put some effort into the insult.

"Haha, that's a new one!" I replied. Out of all the many things I've learned during my time at JP Clemens penitentiary, not being offended by insults has got to be the one that's gotten me in and out of the most situations.

"Excuse me? Do you know who your talking to?" The girl looked about my age, she had long blonde hair, and her uniform was pink, at the time I didn't recognize that only high class girls with shit loads of money had those uniforms. This was because there cells were located in a completely different section of the prison, most of them are in there for the protection from the outside. I like to call those girls jerseys, because they're all fake, and remind me of the girls off of Jersey Shore. Their uniforms are pink because they're jersey status, meaning that they're billionaire daddy's are paying to put there innocent little girls into a 'prison' so they can see all of the people that pay for their mistakes. To jersey girls it's like a field trip, they stay in suites equipped with queen size beds and master bathrooms, while they complain about not having heated towels.
Inmates aren't supposed to know that the jersey girls don't have the same treatment as us bottom feeders, but we all know.

"Why do you think it matters? This is prison. While your up there eating you're creasants, or whatever the hell it is that you eat, I'm down here having to bust my ass to get half of a moldy biscuit. So I think the question is do you know who your talking too?"
There was a limp slap across my cheek, it was nothing compared to the beatings I was used to. The sting was gone immediately and all I could think of was how many times I've been on the receiving end of this, and it made me want to burst into screams.

"Listen here, bitch. You may think you can punk me like everyone else, you may think that you can boss me around like one of your maids or whatever, but you can't. I'm not gonna hit you back this time, because honestly I know all to well how bad it hurts. So how about you go back and eat your Gourmet pasta lunch on a gold platter somewhere else, I'm trying to smoke a cigarette here."

Her hand grazed my cheek again, this time much harder, I nearly fell over. My mind was racing, I was so sick of this, I remembered my plan from earlier that morning, and I smirked to myself.