Fish
Intro to the novel in progress ‘Fish’
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Beep.
Click-click.
She slid Stephen King into the corner of the cell door to prop it open. Things had changed, so she heard, since COVID. She had not been into a jail before, but all she knew was this form of it. Separated and stuck in cells to avoid spreading the sickness.
It was 6:49am.
Cleaning time, and as they were the cleaning shift on Wednesdays, they had one advantage - access to tablets. She had learned quickly l, we’ll sort of. Her first fifteen days in, she went unfed and locked in, unable to make a call or get attention.
She picked up the mop and rag and walked to the bathroom, her duty was the clean the downstairs shower and toilet. Laura was her partner, Laura never cleaned.
When she was arrested she had been sitting in a chair, she had had a seizure and was still unconscious until an officer came up to her. She was startled and confused. Common after a seizure. She slowly recalled the scene leading up to her abrupt awakening.
She ran the shower as she mopped the dingy floor, a large clump of black hair filled the grate where the water drained. A grate she was eventually told many used to stomp their feces into while showering, so never take your shoes off.
It took two minutes to clean the shower, two for the toilet, one for the mirror and to change the toilet paper. At exactly 7am the guard would saunter into the block and unlock the tablet case. There was supposed to be nine tablets, but there were seven. The guards enjoyed watching the girls fight, this was just another opportunity for such.
Tablets held no use for her most days, having no one to put money into her account to use them. Today, however, she had made a deal. Though the younger women disliked her, the older ones tended to gravitate toward her. Heather had asked her for a tablet in exchange for some coffee.
She happily agreed. She managed to grab one, just barely. She couldn’t grab Laura’s today, so Laura had to emerge and bribe one of the other girls with her excessive stock of commissary.
Laura was the “rich girl” for a reason. When She arrived into Laura’s cell, she brought with her the mat, blanket and sheet that she had been given for the week. Laura had clearly been there for some time. The walls were adorned with crayon colored pictures and photos.
Laura was serving eight months for assault on her boyfriend. The stories of how they ended up in here were always quite interesting, as no one was guilty. It made it quite clear to her that was why no one believed she was either.
Laura’s boyfriend would send her $450 a week for tablet time, calls and commissary. The max amount. Laura had stocked up during her six months there and the stockpile took up the entire top bunk.
This didn’t matter to her, because she had experienced another seizure her first week in, she was confined to sleeping on the floor, in case she fell from the bunk.
Beep.
“Back to your cells.”
She returned the cleaning supplies and walked back, tablet in hand, excited to have coffee soon.
In jail you were given two beverages - one milk in the morning, two if you were pregnant, and lemon drink. Lemon drink smelled eerily similar to the cleaning agent the used called “Beaver Cleaner” and was quite undrinkable. But better than the warm tap water slightly, so she would mix the two.
She quickly learned to keep everything in jail.
The police had brought her to the hospital after her seizure, she had spent five hours cuffed to a hospital bed awaiting clearance. She didn’t know she was going to jail. It really never crossed her mind. She had never been arrested.
The officer had brought her purse from the apartment, probably to identify her, she had no access to it and no idea what was inside. She asked the officer if she would be able to call someone from her phone when they got to the station, he had said yes. He had lied.
Beep.
Three names were called out, none belonged to her.
She returned to her mat to rest until break time. Breaks were now twice for four hour increments. Break time meant half the block was allowed out of their cells, unless they were timed in for violations, to watch whatever was on tv and sit around on the chairs that were available to about half the girls, if they got to them first.
Under the rough blanket, she tried to rest her mind. She recalled how far she had come since she first arrived. She had not been fed for fifteen days in her last block. She came to max on her birthday. She had not had a bunkie previously. When she was taken in she had been given a bag lunch. She was glad she held onto it.
In her cell she was given a little plastic baggie with a golf pencil, a short toothbrush and a travel size toothpaste. She was also given a booklet containing the rules and rights of inmates. When she was booked, she exchanged the sweatshirt and pajama pants she was wearing for two sets of size small blue shirts and pants, one night gown and shower shoes. She wore no undergarments nor socks so she slipped the nightgown on, and double layered the blue tops and pants.
Lunch sack in hand, she was directed to her cell. She left the sack behind as she was called out. She and ten other girls were directed to a cell to wait, for ten hours, to be arraigned.
Beep.
She had managed to nod off during her thoughts. She arose to slide the novel into the door opening. Laura had also arisen, already texting her boyfriend on the tablet, as she did all day long. She was drinking her coffee and eating a honey bun as she packed up her colored pencils and coloring books.
The desire to sleep consumed her, and she told Laura she would remain in the cell today. Laura nodded and clicked the cell door closed behind her. It was nice to be alone for a bit sometimes. Laura had been someone to talk to occasionally, but she was wearing thin.
She recalled those first fifteen days. They seemed like a lifetime ago.
In jail you count everything, more out of boredom than interest, but everyone eventually did it. She counted the ceiling tiles first, then the cuss words scribbled on the walls. Now she counted her sit-ups and planks. She thought back to the hunger she felt from being deprived of food for two weeks.
She had thought she was being punished after a few days of being ignored. She read and reread the rule book, scanning every detail, desperate to see what she was doing wrong. Alone in her cell then, she had taken the extra bed mat for herself, it made the metal bunk less difficult to sleep on.
Her back had still been bruised and bloody from burns and scratches from the attack when she was taken in. She slept on her stomach when she could sleep, which wasn’t often. She tried to gauge the time passing through the tiny window she could see through the top bunk.
She read that she was entitled to one mat, maybe that was why she wasn’t being fed? She returned the mat to the empty upper bunk. She read more, her stomach groaned.
Beep.
“Back to your cells.”
She realized she had dozed off again. She turned over as Laura returned.
It was 11:25am.
Beep.
“Trays.”
Laura slid the book into the door jam. She followed Laura to the line, they filed to the front. She already knew what was on the menu for lunch, Laura had a detailed calendar of each meals’ contents from her experience there. Today - goulash. She hated goulash. That didn’t stop her from eating it.
She thanked the guard as she grabbed her tray of square bread, waxy green beans, goulash and cake. She never ate the cake. She had long ago accidentally given her cake rights away to Shirley, apparently once you give your cake up, it is expected. She offered up the cake as Shirley approached.
She sat on her mat on the floor, spooning red sauced soy matter and macaroni into her mouth. She emptied out half the lemon drink and poured tap water into the remainder. The green beans were cold and squeeked as she bit them, the bread was unappetizing. She finished as much as she could, glancing at the food calendar to see what dinner would be.
Beep.
“Trays.”
She was used to structure, routine, but mostly the inability to control anything around her. For that, she was grateful. Those who had not, would have a much tougher time.
As she walked her tray to the cart she recalled her life before this. Memories flash up bright at unexpected times when all you have to do is think.
Click-click.
She lie down on her mat, blanket pulled over her face. Laura had drank both her milks today, no she wasn’t pregnant, she had learned how to work the system. That was unfortunate, the milks, not her working of the system. She was lactose intolerant, and the toilet was only about a foot away from her head. Laura had no shame in her shits.
She closed her eyes and recalled her cat’s face. Of all of the things she missed, she missed him the most. She had long ago accepted fate would continue to barrage her with unfortunate events until whatever was to be would be. Worse case - death may bring her peace.
She recalled her apartment by the beach, her BMW convertible, the gorgeous Armani dress, her patio, the feeling of success. She recalled meeting Daniel, believing she had real friends, discovering new relationships. Feeling free.
She couldn’t feel that anymore. She smelled Laura’s unfortunate decision through the rough wool of the blanket. Quickly bringing her back to reality.
By Jess
From: United States
Website: https://datgirltruth.com
Twitter: DarkCaves