Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison T. Parsell (ebook reader play store .txt) 📖

I started to blame myself again-like what had happened was my fault, but this time it was different.

There was no way to avoid being attacked. It was like what had happened that morning, when Nate asked the guy with the food tray if he would buck for his food. He was damned if he did, and fucked if he didn't. At least I wasn't beaten up, but it felt like they had taken more than sex from me. It was as if Nate and Loud Mouth reached in and stole something more. I couldn't explain it. And no matter what, I couldn't say anything about it. Not then, and probably not ever. Not if I wanted to stay alive.

"You're up for sentencing on Tuesday," he said, "and I have to get this report to the judge." He tapped the blue file on the table with his pen.

I nodded. I was grateful that he'd given me time to pull myself together.

"So what did you rob?"

"A Photo Mat."

"A Photo Mat? Why did you do that?"

"For fun." I shrugged.

He chuckled. "Was it worth it?"

"No."

I still couldn't look at him, and I wondered if he could smell what was soiling the inside of my pants. I couldn't tell if the smell was real or imagined, but I was sure I would never forget it. And the pain down there was unbearable. I shifted in my seat.

"Well, if I ever got caught for some of the things I did when I was your age," he said. "I would be in here, too."

Judging by how large he was, I doubted he'd have the same problems. I wondered if the rest of him was as wet and clammy as his hands, but I appreciated how nice he was being. "When will I be sentenced?" I asked.

"Next Tuesday."

"That's right. You said that, didn't you?"

"I see you're serving time for larceny. You stole something from a hotel?"

"I use to work there," I said. "Some friends and I would sneak there at night to find an empty room to sleep in."

"Why didn't you go home?"

"Because if we woke our parents up-they'd beat us for coming home late."

"So what happened when you didn't come home?"

"They wouldn't notice, mostly."

"Have you been here in the county jail the whole time?"

"Riverside," I said.

"Riverside. Isn't that maximum security?"

"I had to go there until I got sentenced for the Photo Mat."

"Why did they send you to Riverside?"

"Because Armed Robbery carries up to life, and until I was sentenced, they had to treat me like I had been given life."

"Did you plea bargain?"

"My lawyer said I'd get two and half years. It's supposed to run concurrent with the time for the hotel."

"We'll that's not too bad. You'll be home in no time."

"No time soon," I said.

"How was Riverside?"

I shrugged.

"Anyone give you a hard time?"

Again, I shrugged. In spite of how nice he was being, there was no way I could say anything. If I snitched, my life would be worthless. Then I thought about the look on Nate's face when I told him that I would.

"Do you think I could be moved to another cellblock?" I asked.

"Why? Is someone bothering you?"

I didn't respond.

"Did you ask the deputies?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I doubt they'll listen to me any more than they would to you. Why don't you ask them?"

I couldn't answer him. I remembered reading about a prison riot in New Mexico, where the inmates broke into the protective custody wing using blowtorches they'd taken from the machine shop. Once inside, they turned the blowtorches on the faces of all the snitches. I'd also heard that if you asked to be moved, you had to tell the deputies who it was that was bothering you, and it was doubtful that the deputies would protect me.

"What made you do it?" He asked.

"What?"

"The robbery of the Photo Mat. You knew you were being placed on probation for the hotel thing, so why risk going to jail?"

"I didn't think I would get caught," I said.

"But still, why risk prison?"

"I didn't think they would send me to prison."

I thought of telling him that I robbed the Photo Mat before the hotel and that I got caught for it later, but it didn't matter now. "DeHoCo maybe," I said, referring to the Detroit House of Detention, "but I never thought I'd go to prison."

"Yeah, its kind of hard to believe with you being so young and good looking."

I moved to the other stool. It was cramped inside the cell, and I thought I felt his knee lean against mine.

"Do you see a lot of action in here?"

"Huh?"

He looked embarrassed. "I mean fights, bloodshed. You know, violence."

I shrugged. It seemed strange coming from him.

"A little," I said. I pulled another cigarette from the pack.

He struck a match and cupped it with his hands. I leaned forward and lit it.

He New out the flame and held the match between us as we watched the blue and gray smoke rise slowly from the tip. "You have blues eyes," he said. "It almost matches."

His kneecap touched the inside of my thigh again, but this time it stayed there.

I jumped up and looked at him. "Are you finished?"

His eyes darted between the small opening in the door and me.

"Sit down," he said. "I have a few more questions."

"That's all right. I'll stand."

"Sit down, cowboy." He glared. "I'm the one in charge here."

I sat back down, and he finished the interviewed.

He didn't bother me again, but his whole demeanor had changed. He picked up the cigarettes from the table and placed them back inside his pocket.

When the deputy came to take me back to my cell, I asked him if I could be moved. "Why?" he asked.

I didn't answer at first.

He unhooked his keys and opened the sliding gate at the end of the hall.

"Because some guys are pressing me," I said. I stepped past him and waited as he closed the gate.

"Who?" He asked.

I said nothing.

"You have to tell me who, if you want to be moved."

He