Shantih Journal 3.1 | Page 47

“If I want your rec and shower, I’ll just take it from you,” he said. Big One yanked up his pants. His enormous gut was constantly at odds with his trousers. Big One must’ve been having another bad day. He had taken my rec and shower before. Anybody could get their little bit of freedom out of their cells stolen by him when he was in a mood for it. But I didn’t tolerate it. “If you take my rec and shower,” I said, “I’ll write you up again.” Big One’s wide mouth wrinkled. “That’s all you want to do is file grievances, you pussy. You’re nothing but a little bitch . . .” He continued on, but I talked over him. “What else am I supposed to do?! I’m in the hole!” I laughed. He hated it when I laughed at him, so I started laughing harder when he began shouting over me. That quieted him enough for me to say, “Look at you! What’s really going on, man? Why’s your face so red? How do you get so upset so easily?” I left name-calling and fistfighting to people like him who were still stuck in the schoolyard, so I didn’t actually disrespect him. I liked to think of it as beneath me, child’s play. Inmates in the other cages were worried about me. “They’ll fuck you up, man,” one said. Another joked, “You’re asking for an asswhoopin’, ain’t you?” But I knew officers mostly jumped gangsters due to their usually refusing to write up anybody, officers included. Part of their code not to snitch, I guessed. And if an inmate did somehow get the chance to physically retaliate against them, they could get up to ten years added to their sentence, just for one punch. Not to mention spending years in the hole. In turn, many inmates didn’t want to avenge themselves and were easy prey for guards. Nobody wants more time added to their sentence, and those serving life didn’t want to spend so much time in solitary confinement that they’d go insane. But I was no gang ster, and I was so respectful that I got along with most correctional officers. I stayed out of their way, and they stayed out of mine. Well, most of them. My turn to go back in my cell came up, and they put the handcuffs loose on me. They had been putting the cuffs loose on me for around a month. Big One first began loosening them after I took a stand against his behavior. Because I didn’t talk like a redneck, he would talk trash to me. I ignored him for a little over a week 47