Chapter Seven: "Release."
EVERYONE has their fifteen minutes of fame.
That is, unless you're me.
Let me tell you something: Canadians are mean!
Let me tell you another thing: don't underestimate them either.
Now, I've been to Canada a couple times before, but that was only in British Columbia. I have never been anywhere east of that province, and something tells me that British Columbians are a lot nicer than its fellow provinces. I don't know where any of these girls are from, but let me tell you; those Ontarians are vicious and will attack. Not to mention that they're ridiculously strong, and when you mess with one, you mess with 'em all.
Needless to say, I had my fifteen minutes of fame up until week two. I got approached by some of the girls bigger on the prison chain, and to say it was scary would be a complete understatement. Don't get me wrong, I have been in the pen before and I've had my group, but to get approached by people who run a totally different joint, is nerve-racking. They definitely work a different system than in California, and man, do I tell you, I was shitting bricks.
I got along with the woman who approached, nevertheless. She said I 'look innocent' and invitedâwell, more like demandedâme to help sell and trade to the inside and outside world. It worked, and eventually we became friends and she introduced me to her clan, and must I say I befriended a murderer, a drug dealer slash illegal street fighter, and a sex offender. I've met people of their kind, and it's not so much the fact that they were said criminals, but the fact that they were said to be the toughest group to acknowledge or go near without beefing out someone.
Eventually, I was that person they were beefing up.
I didn't do anything, I stayed quiet and spoke when needed, and I thought we were all cool; on good terms.
Damn, was I ever wrong.
They attacked me. It was lights out and maybe around two in the morning, and I was just chilling on my bed because I couldn't sleep, minding my own business when they came up and pulled me aside when the guard wasn't looking.
At first, I thought they wanted me to go up to one of the other groups that were trading between ours in the morning, but I was wrong, again, and turns out, it was a private beating than a private exchange. I balled my eyes out that night and every night after that, because of what they did, and to say it scarred me would be a total underestimation. I had nightmares and repeats of that night, and I literally wanted to die right then and there. It was horrific, and I couldn't deal with it. I trusted them to a degree, and they did some life-changing things to me. My last two weeks I was there before I had the added week were brutal.
The 'leader', AKA the murderer named Emily, was the one who threw the first hit. The others, Bethany the DD and Street fighter, and Cathy the sex offender followed in suit.
I was so confused, because I had done absolutely nothing wrong, and I was frazzled on why the fuck they were beating the shit out of me when I was innocent.
After a week-long hospital visit later, I arrived back at the prison with a broken arm and black eye and that's when I came in my block extremely pissed. I was livid, and I was guaranteed to have fire coming out of my mouth and smoke out of my ears. Now, by then everyone knew I was with the bigger girls, and all that seemed to change when they saw just how mad I was. There weren't much girls in there at the time, but the one I wanted to see specifically was, and the warning flags were waving around the moment I stepped foot.
Unusually, the whole place went dead silent, and Marissa was staring at me with her eyes sticking out of their sockets. Just seeing the fear on her face made my suspicion clear as day, and I knew she needed to be put in her place.
After all, she deserved every injury she was going to sustain.
She said that I was using my group's trades for my own benefit and was talking shit about them behind their back. I called them 'weak, skimpy, fake, gay sluts.' Only one piece of that information is true, and that would be the 'gay' part. All three were lesbians, and honestly, that made me terrified of them. They did the beating, but they didn't do the beating until they did the scarier thing after that.
Adding onto the consequences, I did what my accomplices did, and I beat the shit out of her. The fact that they actually put a cast on my arm made my eyes grow wide in surprise, but needless to say, the two weeks after that, Marissa was never near me. Not even in the same block, and I guess her bruised up face explained it. The concussion she received made me smile, and I knew that after Emily and the gang attacked me, that the old me was starting to return, and I gotta admit, I am terrified of meeting my roommates when I arrive at their house in a few hours.
Yes. Today I am getting released.
I got a week extra of imprisonment, but to say that I had no problem with it would be an understatement. I was thrilled; it meant I had an extra week to torment and scare Marissa even more.
Nevertheless, I had a phenomenal-unphenomenal time in Canadian prison.
Of course, Marissa should have taken her own advice and watch who she hung out with, and to not lie.
Maybe the bitch finally learned her god damn lesson.