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  “Dude…your head is fucking INFESTED with lice.”

  17

  “What? Lice?” I whispered, trying to keep this quiet, because the last thing I needed was for the other girls to hear.

  Too late.

  “Ewww, hell naw. You heard what that girl just said? Bitch has lice, bruh,” Keisha said, standing up from the table near my cell and walking away.

  “Not uh, who?” another girl said, scratching her head.

  “That girl right there,” Keisha said, pointing to me.

  The next thing I knew, all hell was breaking loose.

  Everyone began scurrying away, trying to protect their heads from any stray lice. Lice is a big problem in jail. Once one girl has it, it’s usually followed by numerous other girls contracting it. I remembered the way the last girl who had it was treated by the inmates, and I was dreading receiving that same backlash.

  They all retreated to their cells to check each other’s hair. Some girls were dramatically scratching their heads, saying they felt itchy, and plenty of curse words and threats were being tossed my way.

  To say I felt embarrassed would be an understatement. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear, but I was trapped. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Tiff,” Sarah said, trying to lift my spirits. “I’m gonna let the guards know and we will get it taken care of. Okay?”

  She was a good friend. She could have run away like everyone else, but she stayed.

  Just then the pod doors swung open and Deputy Knox came flying in. “Which one of you nasty bitches got bugs in your hair?” Apparently, someone had already alerted them.

  “Cell five got ’em. The tall girl wit’ da glasses. Get her outta here, Miss Knox, ain’t nobody want no lice.”

  All the girls were looking at me with disgusted expressions, including Knox. “Let’s go. Don’t come near me, just head to the door,” she said, pointing to the exit. Everyone was watching me, everyone knew what was happening, and they were all being so damn mean about it.

  The lack of compassion was shocking; they were treating me like a dog with rabies.

  As Sarah followed me to the exit, Knox yelled behind her, “I don’t know where the hell you think you going, Carnwell, but this ain’t no buddy system, you need to get yo’ ass back in your cell.”

  What Sarah said next made me stop dead in my tracks.

  “I have lice too, Miss Knox. I need to be treated as well.”

  My heart felt as if it were going to explode. This girl just outed herself, in front of everyone, so she could come support me. I was speechless.

  “Oh hell naw. Go. Hurry up and go on out, Deputy Silva will take y’all to Medical,” Knox said, giving a disgusted shiver and scratching her head. “Y’all nasty bitches makin’ me wanna get checked.”

  Sarah and I entered Medical and were met with looks of disdain from several deputies. “Don’t bring them over here, toss ’em right into holding cell two,” someone said, referring to us. I could hear them murmuring about how we both were infested with lice, how gross we were, and how if we didn’t walk the streets and sleep on the sides of roads, then we wouldn’t be having this problem.

  I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up. That I had been here for two months, and someone else must have brought it in with them. But speaking to them in a disrespectful tone would get me sent to lock, and I’d rather eat the lice than go to lock.

  When the door shut behind us, I gave Sarah a grin so big that it hurt my cheeks. “I can’t believe you did that. You don’t have lice, do you?” I asked.

  “No. But I couldn’t let you come down here alone. Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day. I thought this would be a nice romantic getaway for the two of us,” she said.

  I burst out with laughter and it was immediately cut short by someone banging on the window. “Shut up in there! There’s nothing funny about lice.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back toward Sarah. “Holy crap, it’s Valentine’s Day? I forgot all about that. I just realized I’ve spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and now Valentine’s Day behind bars. That fucking sucks, dude.”

  The door swung open and a guard threw two boxes of Rid inside our cell and promptly slammed it shut. I guess they were afraid my lice would jump out and get them if they kept it open any longer.

  “Well, Tiff, the good news is, this is the last holiday you will spend here, and I have planned a beautiful day for us. We will begin by lovingly picking nits from one another’s scalps. Then we will lather ourselves up with this highly toxic lice killer, followed by a romantic hose-down by a random deputy; it’s gonna be incredible,” Sarah said, picking the boxes up from the floor.

  It had been a really long time since I’d had a true friend. One who didn’t use me and expected nothing but friendship in return. Sarah was a good friend, and in that moment I felt incredibly grateful to have met her.

  After getting stripped and hosed down, Sarah and I were brought back to the general population. When we entered the pod, everyone was staring and moving away as we walked past. I wanted to run around and start hugging people and shaking my hair all over them but decided against it.

  “The lice have been treated, you guys can go back to playing cards and snorting headache medicine now, nothing to see here,” Sarah said as we walked into my cell.

  “Hey, thank you so much for doing that for me. You didn’t have to. It really means a lot,” I said.

  “Aww, you’re welcome. I’d choose picking lice out of your hair over hanging out with these whores any day,” she said, smiling.

  “Who is Big T?” Jayda, an inmate who had been released and re-arrested three times since I’d been here, yelled from the dayroom. My ears perked up. My friend Keke who used to be in our pod but got moved to high security next door used to call me that.

  “Anybody in here go by Big T?” Jayda said again. I walked to the entrance of my cell and stuck my head out. I saw her showing something to another girl and heard her say, “I don’t know, someone named Keke slipped it under the door from high security.” The girls began laughing at whatever it was.

  “Me! I think it’s for me,” I said, walking toward her. “Did you say it’s from Keke?”

  “Yeah, are you Big T? Here,” she said, handing me the piece of paper. I took it out of her hand and glanced down at it. It was a note, in the shape of a penis and balls, and it was definitely from Keke. It read:

  Hey biatch, I miss you and your jokes soooo much, I’m trying to get back over to that pod soon. It sucks over here. Write me back and slip it under the door.

  I love you!

  Keke

  A bunch of girls came over to look and everyone thought it was hilarious that it was a penis. We were like six-year-olds who had never seen a male body part before. I didn’t even know you could slip notes under the door.

  “Girrrrrl, you better flush that shit down the toilet ASAP before you get caught,” Tonya said. Tonya was the last person I wanted to take advice from. Homewrecker.

  “She’s right, Tiff, you should get rid of it,” Sarah said quietly.

  “Okay, Sarah, I will,” I said, staring straight at Tonya. I didn’t want her to think I was doing it because she told me to. “I didn’t do anything wrong, though, I can’t get in trouble for receiving a note. I didn’t ask her to write it,” I said, taking it to my cell and flushing it down the toilet.

  I watched it swirl in circles as it went down the toilet, and I jumped as the pod doors flew open.

  “EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, NOW!”

  A team of guards I didn’t recognize came busting through the door and ordered everyone down. I dropped to the floor by the toilet and turned my head so I could see what the hell was going on.

  I watched as they marched over to Jayda and pulled her arms behind her back. They handcuffed her and dragged her out of the pod.
Then they began walking to my cell.

  I watched their boots as they got closer and closer, then stopped about an inch from my head. The next thing I knew, it felt as if my arms were being dislocated from my shoulders.

  “What did you flush?!” the guard yelled at me.

  “What? I—”

  “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU FLUSH, DAMN IT?! Was it drugs?” they said, pulling me to my feet by my wrists and patting me down.

  “We saw that something was retrieved from the other pod under the door. We witnessed you bring it in here, then flush something. What was it?”

  “A note! A penis-shaped note! It was nothing!”

  “Let’s go,” she said, pulling me backward out of the pod.

  “Search these cells!” she yelled over her shoulder to the remaining deputies.

  All this over a note? What the hell? Where were they taking me?

  We took a flight of stairs to an area I had never been to before, and I noticed a wall of red cell doors. The deputy holding me radioed in for someone to open cell number one. Once it was open, she pushed me through the door and shut it behind me.

  “Put your hands through the slot, now,” she said. I turned around to back my hands up to the slot and took a survey of the cell while she was uncuffing me. It was no larger than a closet. There was a toilet, a sink, and a concrete slab with no mattress. There were no windows and I could stick my arms straight out to my sides and touch both walls.

  Once the cuffs were off I turned around to face the deputy. “Where am I and why am I here?” I asked pleadingly.

  “Receiving and possessing contraband is in direct violation of the rules. You are currently in solitary confinement. You will not be permitted to make phone calls, have visitation, or receive mail unless it is from an attorney. You will be taken down to shower on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and you will receive one roll of toilet paper per week—so use it sparingly.”

  “What? For what? The note? How long do I have to stay here?”

  “Sixty days. You will be spending the remainder of your sentence in here. I will bring you toilet paper soon, try not to go before I get back,” she said, slamming the slot shut and walking away.

  18

  Two hundred forty-six. I had counted at least a thousand times. Two hundred forty-six concrete bricks had been used to make the walls of this dungeon in which I was forced to exist. I won’t say live in, because I wasn’t living, I was existing. My body was physically there; my mind was gone.

  I couldn’t tell you how many days I had been in there. There were no clocks and no windows, just the flickering, buzzing fluorescent lights. The days and nights blended together into a continuous span of torturous boredom.

  We weren’t allowed any personal items in isolation; therefore I couldn’t read, write, or draw. I couldn’t get the postcards my dad had been sending each day to update me on his treatment or play cards or laugh with friends or take a damn shower. It was just me, my mind, and the occasional clanging of doors in the distance.

  Periodically, animalistic wails would echo through the hallways. At first, I thought whoever was making those noises must be crazy. They sounded inhuman. Over time, however, I started to understand those noises and could relate to what that person was feeling. Every moment that passed, I found myself slipping further and further away from reality.

  I know it had to be at least nine days, because I had been keeping track of the meals I was offered, most of which I flushed down the toilet. I had lost a lot of weight, I could tell because my clothes were loose now. The food was so different in isolation. For breakfast they served a hideous bread pudding loaf, which had bits of what I can only assume was fruit and flecks of something green and translucent.

  I had no appetite and this environment was not ideal for someone with a history of depression. I had replayed every moment of my life like a movie in my head. I had rehashed every terrible thing I had ever done because there was nothing available to distract me from the reality of what my life had become.

  I had had enough. I began thinking about how long I’d been in here and how many days were left. I thought about sitting here in silence with only my thoughts for another month and a half, and it became incredibly overwhelming to imagine.

  Very suddenly I began sweating, profusely. I curled up into a ball on the floor and my feet began tapping rapidly on the ground. I could hear my blood as it gushed through my veins each time my heart beat. It was becoming harder and harder to inhale the oxygen around me; the air felt hot and sticky.

  A noise I didn’t recognize escaped my throat, and I jumped to my feet with unexpected determination. I pushed my face to the glass on my door and began roaring, like a lion trapped in a cage.

  I couldn’t control myself. I had officially lost my shit.

  I pounded on the doors until my hands were sore and even then I continued slamming them into the metal. “SOMEBODY GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

  No one came. There wasn’t a soul in sight. I started to break down crying, but it was as if someone were controlling my emotions with a lever. The crying stopped just as suddenly as it began and was once again replaced with violent rage.

  I began hurling my body into the door repeatedly. I figured maybe if I injured myself they would have no choice but to let me out. I would have stopped at nothing to step out of that room, even if just for a moment.

  My mind was gone; all logic had disappeared. My sole focus was to free myself from this prison within a prison. Without hesitation, I began slamming my forearm onto the edge of the sink. I needed to break my arm. If I broke my arm they would have no choice but to take me to a hospital; I would be free.

  I would choose immense pain over another minute in there in an instant. I was swinging my arm as if I were chopping wood, hammering it down onto the metal surface. I kept listening each time for the bone to snap, but it wasn’t happening. I began growing increasingly frustrated and started visually searching the room for another way.

  The door to my cell suddenly swung open, and a guard was in my face before I could turn my head to look.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, gripping my bad arm with immense pressure.

  “Please, please. I need to get out of here. I can’t take it.” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes were wide. He was staring at me in shock at what he had just witnessed through the window.

  “If you are trying to kill yourself in here, we have to take you to the observation tank,” he said, pulling me toward the door. The observation tank. I’d been there before. That was just as bad as this place except you were in a fishbowl and everyone could see you, naked, in your Velcro suit.

  “No! No, I’m not trying to kill myself, please. I don’t want to die. I mean, this place makes me kinda wanna die but I don’t, I really don’t want to. No one has come by my cell in days other than the trustees delivering food. I haven’t brushed my teeth in like two weeks, they keep saying they are gonna get me a toothbrush and never do. Sir, I’ve showered once, they are supposed to take me three times a week. I still don’t have a blanket, they never gave me one. Listen, they hate me and I can’t fucking handle this. I’m losing it, man,” I whimpered.

  His eyebrows relaxed and he took a step back and loosened his grip. Just then another officer rushed in behind him and he turned to face her. “Hey, um, can you tell Rodriguez I’m coming down to talk to him in a sec; we are fine in here.” The woman nodded and exited the room as he swung his head back toward me and cocked it sideways.

  “Is everything you just said to me true?” He glanced past me to my bed and noted that there was only a sheet. He turned to face the sink and saw that there wasn’t a toothbrush or toothpaste in sight.

  He finally let go of my arm and placed his hands on his hips. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Give me a minute, I’ll be right back,” he said, shaking his head and
exiting the room.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and my breathing began slowing. Finally, someone had listened to me. I prayed this guy was coming back with a toothbrush and toothpaste, because even though I’d barely eaten, the plaque on my teeth felt like rocks. My hair was matted and oily and I had smelled like a jockstrap for about a week now.

  Once my heart rate returned to normal and the adrenaline had left my body, all my aches and pains suddenly became very evident. I looked down at my arm and the entire length of my forearm was swollen and beginning to bruise. I reached up to rub my shoulder, and then the door of my cell suddenly swung open.

  The officer was back, but he was empty-handed. My heart sank.

  He stared at me for a moment and took a few steps toward me. “Look, obviously you got yourself into this here mess and all, but I’m sorry about the, um, the way things have gone since you’ve been up here. It’s not supposed to be like that. I talked to my superior about what’s been going on, and when he realized what you were in lock for, we both agreed that you have more than paid the consequences of your actions.”

  I jumped up from the bed and he took a step back, placing his hand out to stop me from coming any farther.

  “I’m sorry. I am just excited…I think? What exactly are you saying?” I asked, my heart beating with anticipation.

  “I’m saying, we are gonna get you back to population.”

  I began sobbing. I was overcome with relief and gratitude and if I hadn’t thought I’d get tased, I would have jumped on him and kissed him on the lips. There were no words to describe how I felt. He rolled his eyes in response and headed toward the door. “You can sit here and cry, or you can come with me, your choice.”

  I skipped out the door behind him. “No, no skipping,” he said, holding up his hand.

  “No, I know, you’re right….Sorry.”

  Once I was handcuffed, he began leading me toward population. He pushed the button on his radio and said, “One incoming, Medical.” I was confused, was he talking about me? He could tell I was looking at him because he turned to me. “We gotta take you by Medical first, your arm is pretty bad. They will probably wanna give you a physical too before sending you to pop, just to make sure you don’t hurt anyone or yourself again.”