You fear a lot of things in prison. Your fear other inmates, the guards, the food…and somewhere in all of that, you fear yourself. People change in prison. Some become religious while other become killing machines, hell bent of destroying everything they touch. For those of us that try to keep a level head, things just don't seem to go our way and our heads become the sort that things would fall off of.
In my head there is a wall. It never ends, expanding beyond my physical sight in both directions. I can't escape it and I don't know what it means. I can touch it and I get the familiar roughness of bricks under my hands. A few bricks are loose so it is not very structurally sound, and yet I cannot tear my eyes from it. If I stare at it long enough a window appears and I can see her on the other side.
It's like watching a movie, except there is no end to my nightmare. I am back at the riot, glaring helplessly into the window as her fears come to life. Glass smashes and a serpentine arm reaches around her neck. I wince and close my eyes, my heart fluttering beneath my ribcage. I've been here before and I know how it ends.
The arm pulls her closer to the door and a poorly fashioned glass shank she wields simply bounces off the arm as she strikes it. She flails under his touch, kicking the door with her heels, scraping at the arm that pins her. My eyes open briefly to see her tear stained face turning blue, her raspy voice calling out to me as the life is choked out of her.
I want to move. I want to run into the scene, rescue her fragile body and hold her and never let go. But my feet refuse and the blood disappears from my face. I would resemble a corpse were it not for my upright manner and my staggered breathing giving me away. The air around me turns dark, leaving its heaven like whiteness behind and for some reason, my shirt becomes soaked. I peel my eyes from the horrors before me and realise the plans are washing away beneath my shirt.
She calls to me once again, frail and panicked as her eyes flutter closed. I snap my head up and watch the life fade from her being as I call out a sorrowful cry. I fight with my feet but again they refuse to grant me my only wish. Her body falls in slow motion to the floor, landing awkwardly in a heap beneath the broken door. It is now that my feet will move and I run full speed at the wall, only to be bounced back when she disappears and the wobbly bricks return once again.
I pull myself to my feet and am startled to see Lincoln standing before me, his face turned away from me. I call to him as I approach but he does not answer. His crisp white shirt and pants are blackened around the edges and I can make out what looks like a burn mark on his shiny shaved scalp. I reach out with a shaky hand, fearing what I know comes next.
It is always the same. He tells me to have a little faith as he turns to a silvery ash before my eyes. I fall backwards onto the ground and then I scream. I throw back my head and shout my guttural moans into the darkness, eyes clenched tightly shut.
I am startled awake by a grinding noise. Sucre shifts on the bunk above me and the springs strain to stay coiled, twanging a few times before they settle. My breathing is laboured and I reach to rub my racing head with my hand. My head is wet with sweat and my shirt is equally as drenched, as it appeared not that long ago. I roughly pull it up to reveal my tattoo still in place and feel a rush of relief when I know I am awake. I fall back onto my cardboard pillow and sigh, a single tear running down my cheek.
You fear a lot of things in prison but mostly I just fear sleep.