Yesterday, as Glen was trying to teach me how to make a shank from the jail-distributed razors, I realized that I’m not getting any closer to Gerard. I’m living in my own infinite loop of doom – getting up, cell time, rec time, Glen time, and self-defense – and he’s living in his own. And there is nothing I can do to merge the two loops.
Since then, I’m a dead astronaut, and everyone around me is trying to pull me back down to earth and push life into a lifeless being. I don’t care about anything anymore; they can kill me if they want. Regardless of how hard I try, I can’t understand how Glen can spend hour after hour constructing weapons and conspiring with the others; or perhaps it’s just a level of insanity I haven’t reached yet. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t intend to.
They put this label on suicide… insanity. Like only those who have lost their minds have the capacity and ability to take their own lives. But as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing more insane than choosing to stay in a world that’s closer to hell than the afterlife could be.
Just let me go. Please.
I threw my notepad and pencil down beside me on the bed and stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, as if there was anything better to do than test my mental resiliency via the cold grey walls of the cell.
“You realize you could make a shank out of that, right?” Glen said from the floor, resting his elbows on his bent knees and rubbing his hands together restlessly.
“What, the pencil?” I answered with every bit of strength I had left in me.
“Yeah!” He peered at me over the top of his glasses. “Although I was referring to the notebook. Coil binding, all you’d have to do is straighten and sharpen it, and voila.”
Just shut the fuck up before I stuff the thing up your dirty little ass.
I said nothing, in hopes that he’d drop it. For a few minutes, it seemed to work; he sat there, tapping his foot on the ground, and I was left to my thoughts. Dangerous? Perhaps. But no more dangerous than conversing with the murderous rapist I got stuck with in the hell hole they call prison.
“Hey Frank.” He finally said. “I need you to do something f-“
“Just do it, Glen. I don’t even care anymore.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” He laughed. “What do you think I’m gonna do, rape you?”
“Don’t you dare think I don’t have a reason to fucking think that way!” I snapped. “Every single fucking day, I-“
“Calm down, asshole. Now go get us some meth, okay?”
He went on to explain more of the prison dynamics to me. Apparently, the Bulldogs – a street gang – are in cahoots with the Brotherhood, and supply us with illegal crystallized drugs; for a price, of course.
“So what do I have to do?” I asked, suddenly possessing more energy than I had in days.
“Rec time – I’ll point you to Danny. You need drugs? He’s your man; in direct contact with the ‘Dogs once a week.”
“What’s his price?”
He pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the wall pseudo-seductively.
“Frank, I think you’ve been here long enough that you know how it works in here. We have nothing – we make do with what we have. Get my drift?”
“You?” I cringed.
“You pay the man who gives the goods. I’m lucky, I get you whenever I want, because you couldn’t last a day in here without me.”
If I wouldn’t be risking another assault charge, he’d be getting it so hard right now. And definitely not in the way he wants.
Another two hours stuck in the cell with him, and it was rec time. We were let out into the caged yard, and Glen immediately dropped down to the pushup bars.
“So? Where is he?” I asked.
“Average height, bald dude. Scar across his lip.” He grunted.
I can’t believe this thought is actually drifting around in my mind, but I’d rather be raped by Glen again. At least he’s familiar, and I know all his tactics.
I walked up to the man presumed to be Danny cautiously. He was pacing around, as if he were expecting somebody; he likely gets a lot of business here.
Oh fuck I wonder why. I bet half the guys in here would be willing to sell their souls to get a minute high.
“D-Danny?” I stuttered.
He whipped his head around.
“You’re the new kid?” He asked, his voice deeper than I expected.
“Y-Yeah. Glen told me you’ve got-“
“Meth, yeah yeah. The guy’s a fucking junkie; one of my best customers. So he sent you, did he? What a fucking coward.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guards should have caught on by now. He can get someone else to take the blow for him, he will. Needs a single cell, but they don’t pay attention to us.” He chuckled, digging a pouch out of his pocket and handing it to me. “I’ll see you in the showers tonight. Tell Glen I said hi.”
I slipped the bag into my pocket and ran back over to the pull-up bars closer to Glen.
I’d better look a hell of a lot more inconspicuous than I feel.
“Got it?” He panted.
"He says hi."
“Good job." He smirked. "You get a quarter of it.”
After dinner, Glen broke open the bag, scattering the crystal powder on the floor. He instructed me to pass him a sheet out of my notebook, as well as get one for myself. He rolled it up and snorted the line like it was something he did every day. And I guessed that he would be doing it a whole lot more than once a day from now on, now that he has me to pay the price for him.
I did a line myself, and immediately started coughing.
“Ever done drugs before?” He laughed, snorting another line.
“Just as a kid. In high school.” I choked out.
I’ll always remember how it felt. It wasn’t the drugs themselves that gave me the rush, it was the fact that my parents never knew. In their eyes, I was still perfect.
“Well you’d better get used to it again in here. How do you think we keep ourselves sane for years at a time?”
I did another line, just then remembering my date at the showers tonight.
Maybe if I do enough, I’ll be so out of it that I won’t even have to be there as he does it. Or maybe, if I’m lucky, there’s enough in this pathetic little bag to kill me.
It took a good 20 minutes for it to kick in, but when it did, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I had all the energy in the world, and it was like I could conquer anything. I went into the showers that night with my head held high, without a worry in the world.
“Danny!” I grinned, ripping the towel off from around my waist and throwing it to the ground.
The other men in the showers snickered at me, but I was far too high to care at the time.
“Well, someone’s ready.” He said, taking a good look at my engorged member.
He took me by the hips, bent me over the counter, and slammed into me. And for the first time since Gerard, I felt no pain.