CHAPTER 7
Cell 1676 was where I was placed.
The women inside my cell minded their own business. Not a single one of them even bothered to glance at me. Their heads stayed down, their movements quiet and cautious—almost like silence itself was a survival tactic in that place.
I, on the other hand, tried to talk to them.
Every now and then I would say something, trying to break the ice. But whenever I spoke, they would simply lift their eyes toward me for a brief second… then look away again without uttering a single word.
It was unsettling.
Out of all of them, there was one woman I couldn't keep my eyes off.
Not because I was attracted to her.
But because of the tattoos.
They were incredible.
A massive dragon began at her hip, its scaled body twisting and curling up along her back like a living creature climbing her spine. The dragon's mouth opened wide near the back of her neck, its jaws frozen in a snarl as if it were spitting fire across her throat.
The detail was breathtaking.
Every scale.
Every claw.
Every curve of its body looked painfully real.
I loved it.
On her left hand she also had a Bible verse tattooed, the ink slightly faded like it had been there for years.
I admired her from a distance.
But we weren't friends.
Not even close.
Dinner time eventually came, and we all walked to the prison hall to eat.
I had expected the place to be filthy, but surprisingly it was cleaner than I imagined. The long metal tables were lined in rows beneath dull fluorescent lights that hummed softly above us.
I barely had time to sit down before my tray of food was snatched from my hands.
I froze.
I couldn't say anything.
Truth was… I couldn't fight.
And everyone around me knew it.
For three whole days, my food was taken from me.
Every single time.
The one responsible was the notorious inmate leader known as Pkay.
She was the self-proclaimed queen of the prison.
Pkay was a towering, hard-looking woman. Her melanin glowed like polished onyx beneath the dim prison lights, her muscular arms marked with scars that told stories no one dared ask about.
When she spoke, her voice roared through the hall.
And the other inmates listened.
Like her words were gospel.
Her power inside that prison was very real.
Rumor had it she was locked up for murder, robberies, and fraud. Everything you could imagine—Pkay had done it.
And she was serving life without parole.
To make things worse, there was a ritual for newcomers.
And unfortunately…
I was the newest one.
Every day she beat me.
Every day.
The guards always arrived just in time to pull her off me, but the damage had already been done.
My body became a map of purple bruises and swollen flesh.
One morning I stood in the bathroom washing my face. The cold water ran over my skin as I slowly lifted my head and looked into the cracked mirror.
A black eye stared back at me.
Pkay's latest signature.
I was still staring at my reflection when I suddenly heard her voice behind me.
My heart stopped.
Before I could even turn around or gather my trembling voice together, her hand slammed across my face.
The slap was so powerful it made the bathroom tiles blur.
For a moment it felt like the entire wall had shifted.
Then she started hitting me.
Over and over.
Her fists crashed into my body mercilessly. My ribs screamed in pain as her blows landed like iron hammers.
I collapsed to the floor, barely able to breathe.
Then she pulled something from her pocket.
A penknife.
The small blade glinted under the bathroom light as she flipped it open.
She raised it, preparing to stab me.
But before the blade could touch my skin, someone grabbed her wrist halfway through the motion.
It was Lupita.
One of my silent cellmates.
Her grip on Pkay's hand was firm, unshaken.
Her voice was calm when she spoke.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Those were the only words I heard.
I was in so much pain that everything around me started fading.
But in the blur of it all, I saw something shocking.
Pkay… fell.
Her massive body hit the floor with a loud thud that echoed through the bathroom.
The next thing I remember was being lifted and carried back to the cell.
Then everything went black.
When I woke up, all my cellmates were surrounding me.
They stood around my bunk in a circle, staring down at me like they were checking whether I was still alive.
For a moment I thought I had died.
A sharp pain shot through my ribs the moment I tried to move.
I groaned.
Then I turned toward Lupita.
"Thank you," I whispered weakly.
"For saving me."
They all looked at each other.
Then they asked me a question.
They wanted to know my story.
So I told them.
I told them everything.
From Taylor…
To the murder…
To the betrayal that had landed me in prison.
When I finished speaking, the first question they asked surprised me.
"Why marry a white man?"
I blinked at them.
"I fell in love," I replied simply.
Then I brushed their question aside.
Instead, I looked at them and asked something in return.
"If we're sharing stories… why are you all here?"