Chapter 1

John Grayson had no way of knowing it at the time, but September 18, 2004 was the beginning of the end of the worst time in his life. He was in the Arizona State Prison Complex - Lewis in Buckeye, about fifty miles southwest of Phoenix. Almost halfway through the fifth year of a life sentence for murder and possession of child pornography. However, it was totally irrelevant he was innocent.

It was the late afternoon exercise break in the yard, and though the sun was low in the western sky it was still able to make the temperature very unpleasant. Despite the dry humidity there was no air stirring within the courtyard formed by the walls and guard towers. John and his cellmate, Lester ‘Jumbo’ Washington, were standing against one of the guard towers trying to have a smoke and find a shady shelter from the unrelenting fireball in the sky.

While they talked John thought about the situation with his cellmate. Lester, or ‘Jumbo’ as most of the prison population called him, was six foot five, two hundred and eighty-five pounds of raw power. Some people might have called him a pimp, but according to him he’d been hired to protect a group of independent hookers who worked the convention trade in the Phoenix area. The fact he was paid a percentage of their take did probably blur the line. He was serving life for killing someone who was beating on one of the girls. At the worst, he should have been serving five to eight for manslaughter, but the fact the person he threw through a fifth story window was the white son of a prominent politician supposedly had nothing to do with his sentence.

When John had arrived at Lewis five years earlier he was only five-ten and weighed less than one forty. Someone in the system must have thought John deserved some extra punishment, so they placed the computer genius geek with a PhD in the same cell with this mountain of a black who’d only gotten through the fifth grade. It was an interesting social adjustment for both men.

John had heard all sorts of tales of homosexual rape and dominance, and was scared for his body, if not for his very life. Jumbo, on the other hand, had only had negative experiences from the rich, spoiled, young assholes who’d utilized the services of his girls, but who exhibited utter disdain for both him and the girls. To say Lester hated them was like calling Las Vegas a sleepy village, and when the guard told him about John he was ready for some payback.

What he wasn’t prepared for was this young, unassuming man to walk up to him and hold out his hand to shake in greeting. Instead of shaking hands Lester grabbed a handful of John’s uniform below his throat, and lifted John until they were looking at each other eye to eye. Looking deeply into the window of John’s soul Lester saw the fear he expected, but none of the arrogance, bigotry, and contempt he’d grown used to seeing in the young white men he’d known. At that moment the two of them quickly came to an understanding.

As Lester had told others, “I got ‘Sweetie’s’ asshole and shared his smokes; John got my promise to be gentle with that ten-inch monster of mine, and he got my protection from the rest of the prison population.”

John wasn’t overjoyed at the arrangement, but it could’ve been a whole lot worse. The funny thing was in a short time they’d actually become friends. John even helped Lester get his GED. As a lifer it wouldn’t really do him any good, but it helped his self-image a lot. At the same time, Lester taught John how to survive, how to read people, and even some self-defense. They both worked out with weights everyday, and John was now up to one sixty-five pounds and considerably more muscular than ever before in his life.

As for the sexual side, as Lester came to know the heart of this young man it all became a show to keep the other prisoners from bothering John. Many a night Lester had held his ‘Sweetie’ close and cried over the humiliation and pain he’d put John through in the first few weeks. John had tried many times to ease Lester’s conscience, but Lester’s heart was filled with such regret he couldn’t seem to be comforted, especially when he was fighting current sexual desires and needs.

One night John had offered to let Lester use him to gain relief, but he wasn’t prepared for the violent reaction he received. Lester had picked him up and thrown him across the room to his own bed, which was seldom used. While Lester screamed, “Don’t ever talk like that again! Do you hear me?”

The reaction had carried on for more than two weeks, with Lester refusing to say a word to John. Finally, waking up in the middle of the night to take a leak John heard Lester moaning and softly crying in his sleep. When he finished peeing John crawled in bed with Lester and cuddled up next to this giant black bear. At that point he realized there was a love between them that was deeper than most siblings. Not a love of passion and flesh, but a love of heart and mind. A deep caring about each other that would cast the destiny that was to come to pass that very day. The two men had been inseparable ever since.

John’s reflection of their relationship was suddenly shattered when he heard a girl’s scream through the window behind them. It was part of the entrance to one of the guard towers. It was off limits to inmates, but he didn’t think about that at the time. Instead, he just reacted. He burst through the door and rushed in to help. He’d later think, considering what he’d been through, it was amazing he would’ve even cared.

When John entered the room he saw a male guard unconscious on the floor. A female guard was being held down on the top of a desk. Her clothes were being ripped off by an inmate named Larry, but before John could react he was hit on the back of his head by something hard.

Sometime later John began to regain consciousness. He found his hands were cuffed behind his back, and his feet were bound in some manner, but not closely together. He heard voices, and instinctively knew to ‘play possum’ until he understood more of what was happening.

Carefully, opening his eyes until he could see thorough a narrow slit John realized he was crumpled in a corner far from the door. He could see Larry and another inmate, John thought his name was Jerome, arguing across a table. There seemed to be others in the room, but he couldn’t tell for sure, as there was a big black mass in front of him.

Opening his eyes further John realized the mass was Lester. John’s chest contracted like he’d been placed in a vice; the anguish made it difficult for his heart and lungs to function when he saw his friend, his ‘brother’ lying in a pool of blood. A ‘prison shiv’ (homemade knife) was sticking out of the side of his neck. At this point John’s sense of loss made nothing else seem to matter. He wanted to just curl up and join Lester, but memories of his friend refused to let him do that. John was no longer a victim, he was a survivor.

Through the anguish and pain, John heard a female voice whimpering from another area of the room. After some effort he was able to tune it out, and listen to Larry and Jerome. Piecing fragments of their conversation together he decided they had some crazy escape idea that had blown up in their faces. As a result, they were now sealed up in this single tower, and only them holding the female guard as a hostage was keeping the other guards from attacking. Larry was losing his patience and wanted to just kill everyone, but Jerome convinced him that would just buy them the death penalty. Before John could understand more he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Over the next few days, John drifted in and out of consciousness. He decided he must have been beaten pretty badly after he’d been knocked unconscious, because the pain throughout his body was excruciating. His primary memory of that time was that of a nude young woman bathing his face with water and trying to get him to suck water from the rag. He never saw Lester’s or the other guard’s body again.

As the time passed John began to have longer and longer spells of consciousness. He realized this nude woman was one of the guards, and she’d been trying to help him stay alive. She kept encouraging John to drink water, and she’d feed him small amounts of food from her plate. John wondered where the food came from, and later learned there had been a cache of food and water stored in one of the rooms in case the guards got caught in a prison siege.

One of those times John’s head began to clear significantly more than the previous days. He’d no idea how long he’d been like this, but he was certain it was more than just a couple of days. When his mind began to interpret what his senses were sending he realized the woman was gently wiping his face with a wet rag. She seemed to be softly singing to him some song his memory vaguely recognized.

When he heard the other two convicts yelling to someone outside he whispered, “Are you all right?”

She reached up and brushed her shoulder-length hair to the side. John had seen her around the prison before, but she’d always worn her hair in a bun. There were bruises on both sides of her face; most were the size of a man’s hand. There were also dark bruises on her pert breasts, and a couple of places that looked like burns. One of her nipples looked like it had been damaged, and there were other bruises on her ribs and thighs. She couldn’t look him in the eye when she said, “No. I feel so unclean. They haven’t raped me again, but they’ve done everything they could to get me to ask for it. I’m thankful you tried to save me, and I’m sorry your friend got killed in doing so. I’m afraid I’m really not worth it though.”

Jerome turned from the door, and said, “No talking, you two.”

She replied, “I’m trying to find out if he can hold some food down.”

“It don’t matter no how. There’s not ‘nough food to give him some anyway. We’s trying to bargain fo’ mo’ food and water, but since we let that other guard go, we ain’t got nuttin’ to trade with.”

Larry yelled out the door, “You’re just jiv’n with us. You got one hour, or we’ll start taking it out on pretty little ‘miss guard, ‘ here.”

After he slammed the door shut and propped the back of a chair beneath the doorknob as an extra deterrent Larry turned toward the others. His face was red with anger when he exclaimed in frustration, “I think they’re just stringing us along.”

Perplexed, Jerome loudly responded, “But why did yu’s give ‘em a threat like dat, man? Now, they’s gonna call our bluff, or else they’s gonna bust in dat door, shootin’ at everythin’ in sight.”

“That lying bitch of a warden just makes me so mad; I just lost my head. I’ll think of something.”

“Wells yu’s just do dat li’l thin, ‘ then, ‘cause I’s not ready to give up. I’s don’t wanna be shot, neither.”

While they were talking the guard helped John get into a more comfortable position. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, and the binding he’d felt at his ankles was his coveralls. They’d pulled them down and twisted them several times to make them like the hobbles used on horses. This had left him completely bare over the rest of his body, and he was surprised he hadn’t earlier realized he was nude. As John’s eyes took in the rest of his surroundings he realized he was sitting in some kind of low tub he suspected was used to catch his body wastes. In addition to the pain, John realized how weak he felt, so he softly asked her, “How long has it been?

“Twelve days.”

This revelation almost overloaded John’s fragile emotional system, taking almost all his remaining reserves to keep from screaming as he responded, “Twelve days?”

She nodded, her eyes cast downward like she was too ashamed to look John in the eye. He couldn’t understand why she should feel that way, but instinctively, he knew that was her problem. He wanted to encourage her, to tell her it was OK, to put his arms around her to comfort and protect her during this time.

When he thought about his arm pulling this attractive nude woman close to his own nude body his body did what was quite natural for the circumstances; blood started to engorge John’s penis. Because the nude guard wouldn’t look up she was staring straight at it while it became harder and harder.

John understood this had to be adding to her embarrassment, so, trying to down play the sexual side he said, “I’m sorry about that. That often happens when I first wake up.”

Feeling his compassion she looked up, smiled, and said, “It’s OK, I understand. In fact, it’s nice someone still thinks I’m pretty, rather than just an object to be used for sexual gratification. By the way, my name is Brenda.”

“Brenda, I’m John.”

“I know, I read your file. You’re a puzzle to many of us in here. You just don’t fit the profile.”

“What profile? Anyone can kill someone under the right circumstances.”

“We know that. No, what I’m talking about, is being a pedophile.”

“I’m not.” Before the conversation could continue, Larry started yelling at her again.

She replied, “He hasn’t really eaten anything in twelve days. We need to get something into his system, or you may have another dead inmate to account for; not only to the authorities, but to your fellow inmates. Lester and John had a lot of respect out there in the yard.”

She’d hit on something they hadn’t thought about: anger and retaliation from the other prisoners. They were already in here for life, and thought they’d nothing to lose, but now they weren’t so sure. Finally, Larry said, “OK, give him a little something. He shouldn’t eat much though, ‘cause I don’t want him ‘tossing his cookies’ in here. Hell, the smell is bad enough as it is.”

She slowly got up and went to the refrigerator. Finding nothing she wanted she looked in the small pantry beside the microwave. After plundering for a few moments, she came out with something in her hand. “I think this should help get you some nourishment,” she said.

Larry responded, “What did you find to give him, bitch?”

She held up one of those dried ramen noodle soups in a Styrofoam cup when she replied, “This soup.”

Larry grumbled something to the effect dried up noodle soup was rather appropriate for John. She heated some water in the microwave, and poured it into the cup. She covered the cup to let the dehydrated noodles, vegetables, bouillon, and spices soak up the water, and she returned to where John was leaning against the wall. “Since I’m going to have to feed you by hand, I need to get you up higher.”

She pulled a chair closer and carefully pulled on John’s arm while he tried to get his feet beneath his body. Together they were able to get him standing, but he was very weak, and his head was spinning. It took her several minutes, but she was finally able to get John out of the shallow pan and carefully sat him down in the chair she’d positioned next to it. When she felt he was stable enough she went to the sink to wash a spoon. She was carefully stirring the soup that had formed in the cup while she returned to where John was sitting, and saying, “I wish there was something better, and I hope it doesn’t make you sick; I don’t know how long it’s been in there.”

John tried to give her a reassuring smile when he responded, “I don’t think those soups go bad. It’ll be fine for my first meal.”

She sat down in another chair next to him and carefully began to put small spoonfuls of broth in his mouth. At first it was almost too hot, but gradually it seemed less likely to scald his tongue. She fed him very slowly, allowing him to set his own pace. John wasn’t sure if it was because she realized how slowly his system would absorb the nourishment, or if she was just trying to mentally push aside the time remaining on Larry’s ultimatum.

While this had been going on John had been watching their two captors who’d alternately argue with each other or just complain in general. Occasionally Larry would go to the door, open it just a crack, and yell out the time remaining. The only response was silence. At least, for the moment, they were leaving Brenda and him alone.

About half way through the cup of soup John started having trouble swallowing. His system hadn’t had much in it but small amounts of water for a while, and the spices in the hot soup caused his throat to swell. Brenda tried to give him some water to wash them away, but for some reason it didn’t help. Finally, she went to the refrigerator and after scrounging around for a moment she brought him a Dr Pepper.

Larry asked, “What’cha giving him that for?”

“His throat is swelling and the water didn’t help. I was going to try this. I didn’t think it mattered. Neither of you will drink it, anyway.”

“OK, give it to him, but don’t take too long.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t go faster, his system won’t take it.”

Jerome butted in, and said, “Then maybe yu’s should stop and come over here.” He grabbed his crotch and added, “Maybe your body needs some nourishment too; like a big protein shake.”

Larry gave him a deadly look, and said, “Just let her alone.”

Jerome stood up and walked around. “OK, OK. I’s just funnin’ her a bit.”

When he came to the side of Larry he suddenly turned and stabbed him in the neck with a shiv. It was probably the same one that killed Lester. Larry fell to the floor, gasping for air and trying to remove the shiv. Jerome kicked at him and said, “I’s tired of yu’s white bossin’ shit. Liken yu’s the only one with any brains. Well, yu’s brains are on the flo’ now. Does yu’s still feel better’en me?”

Brenda and John were stunned, and before either could act Jerome came across the room, and knocked the soda and soup from her hand. He then pushed her out of the way and gave John a solid blow to the side of the face. Jerome was obviously surprised when John was able to stay in the chair, but when he started to hit John a second time Brenda launched herself at him.

He must have sensed her coming, because before she got there he swung around and backhanded her hard. The strength of his blow knocked her across the room and against the table. He turned back to John and grabbed him by the hair. Pulling backwards he forced John to look up at him.

“Listen,” he said, “yu’s nothin’ but J’bo’s white ‘pussy boy.’ When we’s get back inside, yu’s gonna be my ‘ho.’ But ‘fo da man comes and gets us, I’s gonna have me a piece of some fine white ass. So yu’s just sits there and see how I’s gonna dick you.”

Still holding John by the hair Jerome jerked John’s head forward hard enough to leave him slightly stunned. Jerome mocked John while he turned and walked over to Brenda. He stuck his finger in his mouth to wet it and then shoved it hard, pushing it as far up inside her as it’d go. Both men knew she had to be dry; the harsh action causing her intense pain, in addition to the anguish associated with the upcoming rape. Though they both knew the physical result the emotional aspect was quite different within each man. To Jerome it was just another act of power and humiliation to tear at those whom he saw as keeping him from assuming his rightful place in the world, but within John came the initial stirrings of blind rage. John watched, seemingly helpless while Jerome had Brenda stretched backwards over the table he and Larry had been sitting at just a short time earlier. He held his hand over her mouth while he moved his big finger around inside her for maybe forty-five seconds. Pulling out his finger and licking it, he said, “I’s guess yu’s wet ‘nough.”

He unzipped his pants and pulled out this huge black dick. It looked bigger than one of those over-sized cans of malt liquor. He grabbed hold of her throat and spread her back across the table. Her legs were hanging down toward the floor. While he positioned that black monster at the opening of her vagina he keep talking trash to her about how he was going to ruin her for white men, and how she’d never be satisfied with a white boy again.

While Jerome was doing these things all John could think about was the pain and humiliation she’d experience by taking that massive prick, even if Jerome had succeeded in moving her beyond the dry stage, which he seriously doubted. Finally the rage within John grew into a consuming fire. Maybe it was the way she’d treated him, or the softness of her voice or just a reaction to the brutal act on a woman, but John just snapped.

Between the soup, the sugar in the Dr Pepper, and a massive shot of adrenalin caused by his anger, John found the strength to suddenly launch himself across the room as hard as his hobbled legs could carry him. The Banshees should have given him a medal for the screams he uttered that day.

Jerome was astonished by the sight of the screaming smaller white boy who was moving across the room so quickly. Like so many bullies the very concept this ‘pussy boy’ would attack him caused him to momentarily freeze. While he was still too mentally stunned to move John hit him in the lower chest / stomach area with all the force he could put into his shoulder under the circumstances. The force of John’s blow knocked the breath out of Jerome and shoved him toward the door to the outside. His momentum caused him to fall over the chair that was reinforcing the door, and when he hit the floor his head hit the concrete block wall, knocking him unconscious.

On the other hand, John’s momentum caused his body to push Brenda off the table, and onto an old sofa that was to the side. Being the one pushed caused Brenda to land first, followed by John, whose body ended up between her legs. Realizing what had happened she smiled up at John while she reached down and grabbed his penis. “Thanks! You deserve this,” she said while she shoved her hips upward, driving John’s erection deep in to her.

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