It’s dark, pitch black. I can feel the hands holding me down. The laughter fades into the background as my heart accelerates and beats out of control. The sound drums in my ears and a fine sweat pops out over my body. I slam my head back with all of my might. I choke on the fear and I despise myself for it. The fear makes me feel weak and I have never been weak in my life.
The back of my head connects with some motherfucker and the feeling of blood smears against my bald head. I slam my head again hoping I can kill the son of a bitch.
I scream out as dirty hands try to clamp over my mouth. I twist and turn until I can get just enough of the hand in my mouth to bite down and tear. I do with an angry scream. There’s a moment of disappointment that I can’t manage to tear the finger off with just the force of my teeth.
Still, it’s enough to get room. Some leeway so I can throw an elbow into the son of a bitch’s stomach that has been helping to restrain me. There are four of the motherfuckers holding me, three now that the guy behind me let go. I hope I at least killed him. I will kill them all though. I will. I will tear them apart piece by piece. That is the last clear thought I have before a large silver flash comes at me.
I feel the impact of the pipe against the side of my head and at the same time a sensation of skin tearing down my side. The scent of blood mixes in with the dirty smell of my cell. Stabbed, I’ve been stabbed. Will I die here? Please let me die before they do what they are planning.
“Got something for you, pretty boy,” the voice says as the darkness encloses around me.
It was six words. Six words that would destroy me and start me on my path through hell.
It’s dark, but not night, that much I know. The heavy, foam-backed curtains are pulled tight over the window and a small sliver of light is allowed to shine where the two panels meet. There is a pounding behind my eyes and a cold sweaty mist covers my body. My head is swimming as I close my eyes against the gut clenching nausea that slams through me.
Waking up like this is nothing new. It’s the normal—my new fucked up normal. The room smells of smoke, cheap whiskey, perfumed whores, and sex. Hell, I’ve stuck my dick in so much loose pussy in the last week the damn thing smells like week old tuna.
I rub my hand over the short stubble on my head. In the week that I’ve been out of the joint, I’ve started letting it grow. I kept it shaved during my stint in jail. There are just too many fucking bugs in that damn hell-hole. I’m not sure if I’ll cut it again. Anything different from what it was in there is automatically better.
I push bodies off of me and move to the edge of the bed. The two chicks in the bed should have left last night. One of them grumbles in complaint, but she rolls her ass over on her girlfriend and goes back out. When I look over at the lily-white ass sticking up in the air my hand automatically goes down to my dick and stretches it. Damn thing doesn’t take the hint though. If anything, it seems to want to crawl inside of my balls and hide. It’s a shame because it’s a damn fine ass, but what the fuck ever. I stand up and the world spins as my body tilts too far to the left. I right myself and walk towards the bathroom, cursing when my bare feet kick one of the empty liquor bottles littering the floor.
Shit, that hurt. I lean over to pick the bottle up and the world tilts again. This time I overestimate my coordination and fall. I maneuver at the last minute and land on my side instead of my motherfucking head. I lay there a minute looking up in the darkness. It hurts to breathe, not really from the fall. Hell, it’s hurt to breathe for so long I can’t remember it being any other way. Why I can’t swallow a bullet and get it over with? I’m tired of fighting it all. So fucking tired…