James 2

I think the worst torture we do to the inmates is not let ‘em kill themselves, not let them hang themselves. I know if I was sentenced to this shithole, I’d for sure be wanting to off myself. If I was locked in my bathroom for the rest of my life, sleeping next to my toilet, smelling the reek of shit. Ah, bro, I’d for sure pull an Aaron Hernandez, you know...

You gotta watch yourself in here, bro. Look, ‘bout a year back, in Cell Block C, one of our guards, a buddy of mine, Pete, got his throat slashed ... He died ... Guy had a 2-year-old kid ... The piece of shit who killed him was already doing life ... He got the death penalty, but it won’t be for another 20 years ‘till they jab him with the Jesus juice. And that’s if they even carry it out. And now the piece of shit has a cushier cell in a better prison. And better food. Meanwhile, my buddy is fucking dead. The man is cold and dead in the ground.

Every day, I come to work and I wonder if that’ll be me, you know.

And not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, that I don’t remember ol’ Pete. The joker. I miss him, bro, I really, really do. Pete, that fucking lanky Irish asshole, his eyes never lining up quite right. The goofy looking ginger fuck. Do I ever miss that guy...

Oh, Christ on a stick ... Peteyboy ... he’d tell the dirtiest jokes in the breakroom. If an inmate hadn’t taken him out, I’m sure a female prison guard would have done it, like if we ever had another. I could see that ... Like, I don’t think I’d ever met anyone with that huge a repertoire of fart and pussy jokes. The guy was always smiling even on the worst of days. He was always cracking jokes.

You know you form tight bonds with the other guards in here. We’re like a family. We stick close. We’re tight. That’s how you survive, bro.

It’s been almost a year ... But ... I ... I get choked up when I think of ol’ Pete. We saved a spot for him in our bowling league. And no one will ever take the spot, goddammit. Don’t get me started. I’ll get teared up. You’ll see me cry like a...

I was fucking fuming after the funeral. I kept my head hanging low the whole time. I went up, knelt, and prayed at the casket, like a good Catholic, but I couldn’t look. I couldn’t see a guy that full of life and smiles ... I couldn’t see him lying dead in a wooden box. I just couldn’t look ... And then I remember, like, after the eulogies, they played his favorite song, “Numb” by Linkin Park.

Bro, I can’t hear that song without choking up...

A few of us guards had planned on flushing out the piece of shit, the animal who whacked Pete. We was gonna shake him down, make a disturbance in his cell, and then ... But he got moved, quickly.

At least the CERT team teargassed the fuck, got some good licks on him with their batons. They bloodied him some, busted his nose open. Really a shame he didn’t die ... I know the CERT boys was holding back, though, I know it, because, bro, they got cameras these days ... They got stinking cameras everywhere...

Oh, then the sack of shit, the fucking animal, he gets arrested. In prison. A guy with a life sentence gets arrested. Not sure what the point of that was ... I remember the local cops coming in, reading him his rights, and leading the bloodied-face-fuck out in handcuffs. I could tell it hurt those guys to do that. I could tell they wanted to leave him in there, with us. I could see the sad looks in their eyes.