Part Two

Friday through Sunday are the days we get six hours of free time. I am enjoying my jog around the track. This is the best I have felt since being locked up. The air is crisp, biting with the first hints of a cool fall. It is the best time of year when you are a free man, the best few hours of a weekend when you are stuck behind bars. That is, as long as you can look past the fact that the track is just a circular section of cement with potholes every few feet. You could break your ankles in them if you are not paying attention. Of course, I think I would rather be out here than in my cell. My cellmate has not been much more talkative since the day I started bunking with him. He actually seems on the verge of a full mental breakdown. Leaving all of that behind me I decided I would enjoy my first weekend out of my cell.

...........

After circling the track a few times, I decided to rest. I sat on a bench as far away from everyone else as I could. I may be getting out of my cell but I sure am not ready to mingle just yet. As I was getting comfortable, I sensed a group of guys staring at me from a distance that probably did not want to make friends either. Especially with me.

I glanced back at them and then behind me hoping they were eyeing someone else, but there was just a barbwire fence there, so I knew they were eyeing me. I recognized a couple of them; they were some of the assholes that became friends with Little Louis. Then one of them started in "Jackie's a snitch, Jackie's a bitch, Jackie's gettin' stitched." Then another one joined in and another as they headed my direction. I could feel the anger building. I wanted to rip the tall lanky one's jugular out. Call me a snitch but do not call me Jackie. As they got closer, it got louder "Jackie's a snitch, Jackie's a bitch, Jackie's gettin' stitched." As they moved closer, they began to sound like a terrible choir.

I could not control it, just like a lion pouncing on his prey, I was up and off the bench trying to get that tall lanky bastards throat in my hands. Unfortunately, I met up with the meaty one first. I tried to get a swing in on him but someone grabbed my other arm while it was in its backswing. Oh FUCK! He snapped my pinky finger like a brittle twig. The pain radiated through my entire arm but I was able to free my other arm so I turned and clocked the finger breaker. His nose crumbled under my fist as blood spattered out of it. I turned back around to get the tall lanky one again, why can't I just forget about him for now, when someone jabbed me with something sharp in my right thigh. More pain but still no gain. This was a losing battle. Where the fuck are the guards?

I finally collapsed to the ground bloody, bruised, and brutalized. Just as I heard the guards whistle, someone sliced off my left earlobe. Everything went hazy then blurred and finally to black.

........

I have been in the infirmary, unconscious apparently, for the last two days. Everything is still a bit fuzzy but the pain has not faded. I reached up to feel my ear because that was the last thing I remembered and it felt like I did lose the lobe maybe more. I need a fucking mirror. Then again, maybe I do not want to see myself. I tried yelling for a doctor but nothing would come out. What the hell?

An hour had passed when the doctor finally came in to see if I had woken up. He looked surprisingly upset that I had, in fact, survived. He explained to me that I had several broken ribs, my earlobe had gone missing, a couple teeth were gone, a few stitches in my legs, and while the guards were breaking the slaughter up someone accidentally stepped on my throat. That is why my voice is not working. Lovely. As much as I would have loved to stay awake enjoying every minute of my pain and agony the doctor shot me up with some morphine.

........

I am finally out of the infirmary. It's Friday again but I think my cell is the safe bet this weekend. Then again, I might have a plan. It may be foolish but that is what a temper gets you.

It is the last three hours of our free time for today. I spotted Little Louis just a few minutes ago and decided to follow him. He is dangerous, but this should be quick. He was on his way to go meet his little groupies but I have something else in store for him. I do not like getting beat down but I really do not like the fact that everyone was starting to call me Jackie around here. Revenge is going to be swift and sweet.

Looks like Louis is waiting to meet someone behind the guards' shack. I sneak around the backside of the shack sitting there silently. He is meeting with another prisoner. I am twiddling my handy dandy handmade dagger thinking of how much fun this will be. I do not want to kill him. I do not want to risk having to serve my actual life sentence out. Fifty with a chance of parole is better than life without a chance at parole.

Here he comes. He does not have a clue. Just as he passes by me I jump out slice the backs of both of his ankles, one right after the other, and he falls over. He is screaming loudly. I should probably get out of here but there is just one more thing. Using a fast sawing motion, I cut off the tip of his nose while he is convulsing, trying to squirm away from me. He screams some more. I drop his nose to the ground in front of him and run. A minute or two later, while stalking Big Jim, I see the guards rushing over there.

I know the lockdown whistle will be going off soon but I have to take the offensive here and strike while I can. It all fits perfectly into my plan. Big Jim is meeting with Brock. I have them both in the same place at the same time. I am within ten feet of them when the whistle blares its obnoxious howl. They fall to the ground hands on their heads, which is procedure when the whistle goes off, while I lunge at them. They did not see it coming. I stabbed them both in the backs of their knees. I then proceeded to bash their heads off the ground until the guards pounced on me. They beat me good with their sticks but it was worth it. I heard one of the guards yelling to Brock that they had me and not to worry. I knew where I was going but that is all part of the plan. My new home will be the shoe. I do not know how long they will lock me down there but at least I will be safe. I'm not getting killed in here.