I may delete this later.

Not everybody believed me when I told them why I was in prison. Apparently, I look like a рedo, according to the career criminals at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility. And you know what happens to рedos.

They get extorted sometimes.
They get assaulted sometimes.
They get raрed sometimes.
And no one gives a fuсk, because they're рedos.

So even though I wasn't one, being a fat guy with a large head, beard, and glasses made me suspect. And at Coffee Creek, they don't give you your paperwork that says you're there for possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute. If you look like a raрist or a рedo, that's what they label you. And that's how they treat you, unless you're prepared to go psycho on somebody.

Which I wasn't.

And my cellmate, Mr. Charles Tyrone Roper, smelled that on me. Told me when he moved in that the entire block wanted a piece of me, and that four of the neighbors in particular had made shanks. Said he could tell them to back down...

...for a price.

I couldn't afford to take the chance that he might be telling the truth, because calling his bluff could leave me full of holes. I couldn't afford to beat the sһit out of this bаstаrd, because even if I could fight my way out of a paper bag, that would get me a new charge.

So I did what I had to do.

Now, I make sure every aspect of my life is different from how it was that day, to keep the flashbacks from returning. I keep my phone in my hand throughout the day, communicating with people. Emailing, texting, replying to posts and comments — it doesn't matter. The clothes I wear are almost all black. Some are gray, one shirt is light blue, but NONE of them are navy. And I shave my head, to keep from feeling his fingers running through my hair. And the pets, of course. Cute little animals who depend on me to care for them.

But sometimes, when I'm half asleep, first thing in the morning, I remember. That trapped feeling, the futility of trying to explain the truth, and the physical sensations I'm still hesitant to share.

He's still out there. He never suffered any consequences for what he did. Lack of physical evidence, you know, because he insisted on cleaning up the crime scene. The DOC investigated internally, and dismissed the case. I looked into taking the matter to the courts, but the idea of testifying while incarcerated sounded really, REALLY stupid.