What’s your body count?

I've never killed anyone directly, but I'm about 90% sure someone died as a result of fuсking with me.

This was in prison, go figure. Somebody asked if he can borrow my frankincense oil that I had consecrated for ritual use in order to smell good for his visit. I said no. Later on, he fast-talked me into holding on to his homemade wine mix and adding the hot water needed to get it going. He swore that since I was in cell 1, right next to the guard station, nobody would ever suspect me. Talked about splitting the profits once it was properly fermented.

I'm not good under pressure. People start pushing and pushing and pushing, and I eventually cave. I took his mix, added the hot water, and put it under my bunk. At yard line, I told him I'd done it. When I got back, the COs were doing a "random" check of my cell. Both my cellie and I were taken straight to the hole.

I did the right thing. Or at least, what the prison convict code calls the right thing. I made sure the hearings officer knew that my cellie had nothing to do with it, and I refused to give up the name of the guy who set me up. Why, you ask? Because my cellie was good friends with one of the big shots there at the prison. I mean, big time big shot. Doing life for murder kind of big shot. And my cellie went straight to that person once he was released from segregation and told them the whole story.

The other guy? No clue. I never saw him again, and nobody ever spoke of him.


Yeah, it affects me. I think about this incident every now and then. But honestly, I did what I had to in order to survive. And rats disappear on a regular basis.