Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison by T. Parsell (ready to read books TXT) 📕

in pelts. I was nearly soaked by the time I reached our car. And so was Mom, by the time she caught up to me.

"Timothy James Parsell! You unlock this door right now." Mom had her hands on her hips, which I knew meant she was serious.

"No," I shouted. "You promised." When she tried her key in the door, I started to cry, putting all my weight on the lock. No matter what-I was notgetting a shot.

The next morning, I was taken down to the bullpens for transfer to Jackson Prison. Now that I had been sentenced, I'd have to go through Quarantine and Classification again, though I hoped it wouldn't take as long as the first time. I couldn't wait to get out the county jail. I'd felt liked I'd been fucked multiple times since I got there, and they couldn't move me out soon enough. The first time was when Nate and Loud Mouth raped me. And the second time was with that fat fuck of a probation officer. But the final blow came from the judge, when he vacated my plea agreement and gave me almost twice as much time than I thought I was getting.

The deputy who'd escorted us down, walked with a swagger that seemed to express his boredom. His hair was sticking up in the hack, like he'd been sleeping with his head resting against the wall.

I was taken to the same bullpen as when I first arrived. It was beginning to feel all too familiar. The four identical cells, on the opposite wall, were dark and empty. At 5:00 in the morning, the reception area wasn't completely quiet, but it was probably as close to peaceful as it ever got. I sat on the bench and stared at the floor. My state shoes looked dull and needed a shine. No matter what these fuckheads did to me, I was not going to lose my sense of good appearance and pride.

The inmates to my side had been talking a few minutes before I realized what they were saying. "You can just have him come over here," one of then said.

I looked up, and he was squeezing his crotch and nodding toward the toilet. The guy next to him was Loud Mouth-the con from upstairs who had raped me.

"Square Business," he said. "He sucked my dick while Nate fucked him in the ass."

Two more approached so that four of them were now standing in front of me.

"Hey white boy," one of them said. "Why don't you come with us."

"Yeah," another said, who was standing by the toilet. "Come give us some face."

A variety of things passed through my mind, but terror and rage were the dominant factors. "I ain't laying like that," I said.

Just then, Loud Mouth walked up and slapped me, and the others laughed.

"Hey!" I blurted out, and I bolted toward the front of the cell. I was not going to let it happen to me again! One of them grabbed my arm, and I screamed, "Deputy!"

He let go and the other inmates scattered.

They waited a moment for the deputy to appear, and when he didn't, they came at me again. "Come here, you little bitch. You know you want it."

I called out to a deputy who was standing in front of the cell next to ours, but he walked away.

A moment passed, and one of the inmates came toward me again.

"Deputy!" I screamed. The inmate backed off.

"We'll get your ass, you little faggot."

A couple of them laughed.

I stayed by the door, calling out to a deputy whenever one passed by the cell. But none of the deputies would stop or listen. The inmates hesitated for a minute or two longer and then moved in on me again. The electric motor to the door suddenly kicked in, and the bars lurched open. I sprang from the cell.

"Where are you going?" a deputy yelled.

"I ain't going back in there," I said.

"Oh you're not, huh?" He reached for me, and I skirted around him, breaking for the other side. He chased after me, while two others cut me off and tried to tackle me.

"Those fuckers are trying to rape me," I screamed. I broke loose and ran to the other side of the control booth. One of them grabbed my shirt and ripped it. Two more rushed me, and I was pinned to the floor.

"You're going back in that cell," the first deputy said.

"No I'm not," I shouted.

They picked me up and carried me to the bullpen, but I grabbed the bars to one of the empty cells. "I'll sue you motherfuckers! I'm not going back there!" With both hands I clenched hold of the bars. They lifted my legs off the floor while the others tried to wrench my hands free.

The inmates laughed from the other side.

One of the deputies elbowed me in the face, and my nose started to bleed. They dropped my feet, and one of them pushed me back against the bars.

"Just stop it," he yelled at me. The other deputies let go.

"I'm not going back there," I screamed. "I don't care. You can fuckin' shoot me."

"Yes you are," the first deputy said, and I bolted from them again.

I felt a sting on my chest, from where someone had scratched me. The deputies put me in a headlock and pulled me into an empty tank, where they knocked me to floor and started to pounce on me. They were trying to force handcuffs on me when the sergeant appeared in the doorway and ordered them to let go of me.

"OK," he said to others, "I'll take it from here."

My back felt bruised, and my side was numb. I struggled to stand up, but the best I could do was sit up. It was dark in the cell, and all I could see was his outline.

"What's your name, son?"

"I'm not going back there," I said.

"I said, what's your name?"

"Those fuckin' niggers were trying to rape nee."

"Oh, now we're niggers," a inmate