In the years that followed, being thrown with the rest of the scum of the earth is like living in hell. Everyone here has a reason for their crimes. Everyone knows deep inside that they are guilty. There are none of me kind of criminals here. Me kind of criminals are rare indeed; those selected few, those who are aware of their humanity; those who do or whatever they did or are doing in the name of their true nature. Being true to your innermost self is the true and most trusty, most intimate loyalty a man can have with himself. This is what I believe in and there is nobody here to listen to me, not to mention to believe me. Everyone have a reason. This is the nature of all things.
Let me tell you about me self. Me name's you already know. Call me Davie and let's throw the family name aside. Me parents are not guilty of making me what I am today. A 'rapist' and a 'murderer', as everybody like to call me. It's been four years since I was captured and thrown into this nameless prison. It has a name actually, but it really doesn't matter to me or you. This is all, how shall I put it? Yes; background story.
I'll tell you this. It's tough here and not just for me, being what I am and all. It's tough for the new ones, when you just arrive on your first day and try to sleep through your first night, even though neither your 'cellmate' nor some of the guards promise to make your life easier and believe me, me first night in the 'cage' – the name I gave to me cell – was a cruel reminder of what went in my interrogation room that night when I was brutally captured and that nameless Inspector kicked the shit out of me. Only this time, the guards only wanted to have some 'fun' with me and some of the 'boys' in the block smacked me a few times in the showers just because they could. They didn't need a reason to do it. They just could. But they had their reason. The reason was me; 'freshie' as they nicked me.
Me block is the sexual deviant block. All the molesters, rapists and other sexual freaks are locked together to have their things one on another or sit back on the cold bed and remember the old tales of their deeds. A criminal never forgets his crimes. This is the law of criminal's nature.
I was lucky enough to have a friendly cellmate. Patrick is his name; a nice looking fellow, for a molester that is. He's been sitting in the cage for more than a decade now. Got crazy as hell, he did. Fucked his entire family one day, literally speaking. One freak orgy that was, he told me and didn't spare the details.
After my interrogation I got sentenced to 25 years in this shit-hole. By the time I'll be out of here, I'll be a senile son-of-a-bitch who forgot the smell of pussy and what to do with it, even if I buy myself one. Yeah, 25 years is a long time, even for a youngster like me. These are going to be long 25 years in hell. Now I know that when I come out and smell the fresh air of freedom, I won't do it again. After spending four years in this place, it changes you. Make you a different person. You become 'good' due to the constant fear that surrounds you. "You want to be bad? You'll die." because there is always someone meaner than you who runs the show. May them be some bully assholes, some big shot criminals, gang members or even the police. You have to be good, if you want to survive. That is the first law of survival.
In this hypocrisy you call life, being 'good' means that you have to be 'good' for the benefice of your superiors. In prison it is very simple. If you want to have an easy life, be good to the guards. If you want to live and not looking behind your shoulder every now and then, or go to sleep knowing that you might not wake up – and that’s the good-case-scenario – you have to be 'good' to the guys who run the show. And if they want you for their amusement, well… an open ass and a mouth full of cum is much better than being dead, me friends, and I really want to live.
After a while you lose the track of time. That’s the thing here, in prison. There is no time, so you can't count it. If you try to count it, it will make you much more miserable, believe me. In the beginning the days pass as weeks. Time seems to stop, every moment feels like an eternity of suffering. It is because you are afraid, but when you conquer your fear, you start to see that time flies away, or so Patrick has told me. I'm still in struggle with me fears. Me forth year is passing and time still feels eternal for me. I wonder sometimes at night when I can't sleep; what do I have to do to conquer me fears?
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Submission Name: Transgression ~ Chapter One
