"Heard you're getting out tomorrow, is that true?" Jacob, one of my cellmates asked as he sat down beside me, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall.
Silently, I nodded.
"Still a man of a few words, eh?" he commented and a few other lads scoffed.
I didn't do much but shrug my shoulders at his remark. 'A man of a few words', I had heard that phrase more times than I could possibly count for the past 3 years I had been here and I still didn't see the significance of responding to it. The statement stood for itself.
But another cellmate, Howard seemed to disagree. He rose to his feet and walked menacingly towards me. Puffing his chest, he towered over me as he spoke. "Do you think you're so high and mighty that you ignore us all you want, punk?"
From my sitting position on the floor, I looked up at him with a smirk. "Why, Big Daddy can't handle being ignored? Awe, did your mother give you the silent treatment too?" I cooed mockingly.
That, of course, angered him and he lifted up his foot, ready to stomp it on my face but I quickly dodged it, squishing Jacob in the process. Howard grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me onto my tiptoes, spitting onto my face once we were eye to eye.
Irritated, I said, "Do whatever the hell you want, tough guy. I'm still getting out of this shithole tomorrow and you're still gonna be on death row. Or perhaps, do you want to shorten the 25 years into 5 instead?"
Then, he let me go and moved to his corner of the cell, giving me the death glare from where he was sitting.
There were 5 of us in the cell; Howard, Jacob, Peter, Richard and me. But among us, I was the last one to be put in the cell and also happened to be the first one to be let out, which roughly meant that I had committed the smallest crime. From what I had collected in my three years of being imprisoned with these men, we were put together simply because we used weapons or tools to commit our crime. Jacob and I were both charged with felony assault, but for different duration due to our differences in weapons of choice. I used a simple kitchen knife and Jacob told me he used a machete and a .22 semi-automatic pistol. Peter and Richard; known as the devil-duo as these identical twins were charged with armed robbery and the murder of three hostages during the commotion. And lastly, the Big Daddy Howard; a 6 feet 7 inches tall giant who was convicted of 3 murders including two of his family members and a close friend. Apparently they got into a fight due to his extreme bipolar tendencies.
Howard was given medications on the daily to keep his behaviour in check but that didn't stop him to taunt and threaten us. If I had known any better, I would've kept my mouth shut from talking back everytime he tried to scare us with his empty threat (which sounded ridiculous but apparently it appeared as brilliant to his small brain) but here's the thing, I didn't know any better. So Howard and I had engaged in several fights throughout the years but he had never given me anything more than a black eye before the wardens or other inmates would pull us apart. What could I say? He was a piece of shit, and I was a bitch. Well, at least I wouldn't have to deal with anymore of that crap tomorrow.
By the time I finished wiping the spit off my face, the warden handed us our dinner.
"Adam," he called me as he held out a tray. "I guess this is your last meal here."
"Damn right, officer." I grabbed the tray from him. "Can I get a piece of paper and a pen, please?"
Less than a minute later, he came back and lent them to me. "I don't understand why you still bother to write. None of your letters was ever received by the name on the envelope and all they do is get sent back and pile up in our office."
