Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison

by T. J. Parsell

  "Get on the bed," Chet ordered. My pants were gone. I didn't remember taking them off. My underwear was missing too. Chet got on top of one and pushed my face into the pillow, muffling my scream. Even with all of the spud juice that I drank, and the fruit, and the Thorazine (as I would find out later) that they spiked my drink with when I wasn't looking-wasn't enough to numb the pain of Chet thrusting himself inside me. It felt like I was being split wide open. I tried to let out a scream, but the air was sucked from my lungs by the sheer terror of what was happening.

  Chet paused for a second and whispered in my ear, "Shh. It will stop hurting in a minute." But it didn't. He kept his hand on the back of my head, holding my face down as he pounded away at me, slowly at first and then with an increased rhythm. I sobbed into the pillow until he was done, and then he collapsed on top of me. The back of my neck and hair were wet with sweat. My breath slowed with his. I could hear his breathing in my ear, his heart pounding on my back. The pain had stopped, but I felt wet, like I was bleeding. But I don't think there was blood at first.

  Chet ran his hand over the top of my head and then got up. I felt glued there. It was a bunk bed, and there were blankets draped on all sides, like the tents my brother and I used to make as kids. I could hear movement in the room and voices. In my shock, I couldn't make sense of anything. Someone pulled the blanket back and climbed into the bed. It was Red, and he didn't have any clothes on!

  "Give me some face." He grabbed my hair and pulled my head to his crotch. He was huge, and I could barely open wide enough. "Watch your teeth," he said. He forced my mouth down on him. I didn't want to have sex-and this hardly counted as sex-but I felt like a coward. I couldn't say anything much less resist. It wouldn't have made a difference. Red weighed about 200 pounds of solid muscle. He looked like all he did was work out in the weight pit all day. His thighs were as big as my waist, and his dick was as thick as my wrist.

  I couldn't breath. My nose was clogged from the spud juice or Thorazine or from my tears. He didn't care. I gasped for air and tried to time my breaths so I didn't suffocate, but then I vomited, and the spud juice and some of the fruit came up.

  "Oh shit!" Red sprang from the bed. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it from under me. "Get up!" he yelled impatiently. I got off the blanket, and Red pulled it from the bed. He threw it to the floor, kicking it to the side. "Lie back down," he ordered. He was mean, and I was frozen. "Lie down," he yelled. His eyes widened as he stepped toward me. "Now turn over."

  The pain was ten times what it was with Chet. I asked him to wait, and he told me to shut up. I sobbed uncontrollably. Where were the guards?

  "Shut up, bitch, or I'll give you something to really cry about!" He put the pillow over my head and held it as he pounded me. My whole body felt like it was being stuffed.

  "I can't breathe!" I screamed, "I can't breathe!" I struggled, but couldn't move. His weight was crushing me, and he was so strong I couldn't free myself from under his elbow that was holding the pillow down on my head.

  Red stopped for a moment and lay there on top of me. I was so glad he was done, but the pain was still there. Please pull it out, I tried in vain to say, but couldn't mouth the words. He lifted the pillow from my face and said to me, "Are you going to stop screaming?" I couldn't answer. I started to cry again because I knew he wasn't finished. "I said, are you going to stop screaming?"

  All I could do was nod my head. "All right then!" he said, and he removed the pillow and resumed humping me.

  The worst of the pain had eased. Where once there had been a sharp cutting pain, now the pain was dull and pulverizing. With each thrust I could feel a deadening pressure in my stomach, about three inches above the hairline of my crotch. Could he be that big? Or was it my shit being jammed back into my intestines? I had never been fucked before, and it hurt in the worst way. More than I ever imagined. But this was violent and beyond anything I could have guessed. He didn't care that it hurt me and that I was in a lot of pain. He was enjoying the power he was exerting over me. This was what I deserved, I thought. This must be what happened to fags. This was what I got for being what I am. This was what I'd been warned about since I was a little kid. Was this what I secretly wanted?

  I turned my head and opened my eyes. There was a pair of legs, crossed, sitting in the chair next to the bed. I lifted my head and saw Slide Step. He had been watching me. Was he next? Embarrassed, I turned my head around.

  The pain was numbing, but my awareness had heightened. I wished I could black out and that none of this had happened.

  Red continued to fuck me. How long would this agony Continue? Was Slide Step next and was he as big as Red? I was drunk and hazy, and hoped I wouldn't remember anything in the morning.

  Gradually the pain lessened more, and then my entire body went numb. It was like being paralyzed, and I was afraid I'd never be able to walk again. Someone threw a glass jar and it shattered next to the bed. Red stopped and lifted himself up on his arms, looking out from the blanket toward the door. I heard whispering and Red said something, but I couldn't understand it. I was in shock, and everything sounded garbled.

  "Oh, GOD DAMN IT," he yelled. I heard a wet smack and pain shot down my legs as he pulled his dick out. He jumped from the bed and went over to the door. I felt like I had the runs, but there was no way I'd make it to the toilet. I tried to wiggle my toes but couldn't feel anything.

  I heard arguing. At first it was muted, loud whispering, and then there was yelling and shouting. I didn't know what they were saying.

  "Get up," Chet startled me. He pulled the blanket from the side of the bed and told me to put my pants on. I couldn't move.

  Someone came over to help me, but I couldn't look at him. They wiped my legs with one of the blankets and then helped me put on my pants. My underwear was missing.

  I don't remember much after that. The next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair back in the card room where it all began. My arms were dangling on each side. I was blankly staring at Red and Slide Step, who were standing in front of me, yelling back and forth at each other. Red was saying something about, "He's gay, he likes it" and Slide Step was screaming, "I was looking at the boy's face."

  Red stormed out and retuned a few minutes later with something in his hand. It was a shank, a prison-made knife. Slide Step walked up to him, pressing his chest against Red's, "What are you gonna do with that, stab me? You've got heart nigger, go ahead-kill me!"

  Chet and Taylor jumped in and soon they were screaming too. I wondered where the guards were. I looked down at my lap and saw that I was drooling again. I wanted to wipe my mouth but couldn't. Or maybe I did. Their voices faded away.

  When my senses returned, I was walking very slowly and painfully down the hall. Eddie was leading me into his single-man cell, which had a bed against the wall on the left, and a desk, chair, and locker on the wall to the right. There was a small window above the headboard.

  "Quick, hide down here." He lifted the blanket and motioned me underneath. It was like a hospital bed, with high posts, a large towel and blanket draped over the footboard so that the guards couldn't see underneath.

  I dropped to the floor and slid under the bed. There was a blanket and a pillow laid out on the floor. I believed he was hiding me.

  "Take off your pants," he said, as he slipped in behind me.

  "No," I said, and started to cry.

  "Oh don't worry," he said, rubbing my cheek, "I'll suck your dick." He said it as if it would comfort me. "But you can't tell nobody," he said, "No one knows I'm like that."

  He yanked my pants off without much resistance, and I faded out again, but the pain and pressure of him entering me brought me back. He was humping me hard, and I couldn't breathe.

  "I'm gonna pee," I wheezed. "Please, Eddie, I'm gonna pee!"

  He stopped for a minute and asked if I could hold it. I couldn't so lie stopped. "OK, but we're coming back," he said. As soon as I got out of his room I told him I wasn't going back there. He i
gnored me. "Don't worry," is all he said.

  I stood in the bathroom, but I couldn't pee. I didn't know what happened. A few minutes earlier I was about to go all over, and now that I was standing at the urinal, I couldn't pee. I stepped back and went into a stall. I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet. Someone opened the door to the bathroom and held it ajar. After a few seconds, I heard it shut, but no one had cone in. I tried to shit but couldn't do that either. The door opened, and again, I couldn't hear anyone cone in.

  "Are you all right in there?" It was Eddie.

  "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

  After a few seconds, I heard the door shut. No one had come in again. I dropped to my knees and threw up in the toilet. I heaved into the bowl until there was nothing left, resting my head on the rim. The cold porcelain felt soothing on the side of my face and forehead. I opened my eyes and watched the small bits of orange, prunes, and grapefruit floating in the water. I reached up and pulled the handle. Now I had to pee. I closed my eyes and felt the water swirling in the bowl and my breath bouncing off the surface of the water. The room was spinning again. When I opened my eyes, I was back under Eddie's bed. I don't remember walking there. He was fucking me, and it felt like I'd never left.

  "I have to pee, Eddie, please I have to pee!" This time Ile just kept fucking me.

  "Go ahead," he said, and his thrusts became more violent. I felt like I was going to, but I couldn't. And after a few minutes more, I tried, but nothing would come out. I wanted to piss all over his blanket, into his pillow, and onto the floor. I wanted to stink his room so badly that the smell would never leave, but nothing would come out. He let out a groan, and I felt him get larger inside of me, and then he collapsed. I felt his breathing in my ear, his breath on my face, and his heart beating against any back. My shirt was soaked, as was my hair, face, legs, and hands, but I still couldn't pee.

  He offered to suck me off, but I said no. I just wanted out. I wanted to throw up, but there was nothing left. I didn't know how to stop this nightmare of a movie. How could I change the channels on a program I no longer wanted to see? The Eagles' "Hotel California" was playing quietly on the radio.

  When I came out of Eddie's room, a tall white guy with black hair and thick black glasses was moving quickly toward me. He had something in his hand that glittered as the light bounced off of it. Chet and Slide Step were blocking his way, but he kept staring at me, trying to get around them. Chet and Slide Step were saying to him, "He's just a kid!"

  Eddie pushed me back inside the room and closed the door. There was more screaming and arguing outside the door. Eddie turned and told me to hide under the bed.

  "No!" I said. "I'm not going back there."

  "Just go!" He screamed. There was a look of terror in his eyes. I didn't care. I wasn't going back under that bed. He kicked the chair from the desk and told me to sit down, opening his locker to hide me from view. The shouting in the hall intensified.

  "Here comes the PO-lice," he said. "Just be cool. Just be cool."

  My heart was racing. "What was in that guy's hand" I asked. He looked like he wanted to kill me.

  "Don't worry about it," Eddie whispered, his back to me as lie looked out the window of his door. "Slide Step's taking care of it. You just be cool for a few minutes. You don't want to end up in the hole."

  The arguing quieted down. There were still several voices, but the yelling stopped.

  "Wait here!" he said. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.

  I sat there shaking. What the fuck had just happened? Why would I go to the Hole? I didn't do anything. I couldn't even fucking pee. There was a wastebasket next to the desk. I bent over and dry heaved into it. There was nothing left.

  I learned later on that the guy coming down the hall was Eddie's punk. He was angry that I was having sex with his man. He had taped razor blades beteen each of his fingers and was coming to slice me up.

  "I'll fix that little pretty boy," he said, "She'll know not to mess with my man."

  "Call it," Chet said, as he flipped the pink token in the air. Red and Slide Step were standing on each side of him. We were back in the north side card room. I didn't know how much time had passed, or how long I'd been sitting there, but it was later on that same day.

  "Heads," Red bellowed.

  Slide Step was silent.

  Chet caught the coin and flipped in onto his arm.

  "Tails!"

  Chet nodded to both of them and came over to me. I was sitting in the same chair as before. I had vague recollections of being led there from Eddie's room. And these were the last people in the world I wanted to be with. The spins had stopped, but my head was pounding, and my face was still numb. It was like watching a Godzilla movie where the voices were out of synch. There seemed to be a delay from when Chet said something, and when I heard him say it.

  "It's settled then," Chet announced. "From now on, you belong to Slide Step."

  Red walked behind him and out of the room. Even with the dullness in my brain, I could tell he was angry. Slide Step took his seat against the wall and put his legs up on a chair. I looked over at him. He crossed his arms, gave me a gentle smile and looked out into the day room.

  14

  Slide Step's Squeeze

  Sacred Heart Church. It was Ricky's Confirmation. I didn't understand the ceremony, but I was looking forward to having waffles for dinner. At seven years old, I hated church. It was long and boring, and I hated all the kneeling and standing and sitting and kneeling. The best part was afterward, when we went for a donut across the street. Eclairs were my favorite, with their dark chocolate frosting and vanilla creme custard on the inside.

  Mom couldn't make Ricky's Confirmation. She was working afternoons, but would meet us at the Egg & I restaurant afterward, which is how I was having waffles for dinner. It was weirdgoing to church on a school night.

  On the way from the service, Dad and Sharon talked about my mom. They were angry with her for missing the service and didn't think she should go to dinner since she hadn'tgone to mass. "Well I'm not paying for her dinner," Dad said, as he gazed out the window of our car, "even if'she is flat broke. " Sharon said, "I don't think you should."

  When we arrived at the restaurant, she was waiting inside. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. She squeezed me tight, and there were tears in her eyes. I cried too. I always did whenever she did, I couldn't help it. Ricky and Connie gave her a hug as well, and then we all sat down to eat. Mom said her supervisor was doing her a favor by letting her sneak over on her break. She was sad she had to miss Rick's service, and she told him so several times. I didn't know what Dad saw in Sharon. Especially when my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. My aunts and uncles were there too, but Mom seemed a little different. I was sitting next to her when the waitress came around to take our order. I asked fir an extra plate.

  "Why the extra plate?" Mom asked.

  `Because one's for you," I whispered.

  The next morning I stepped out of 10 Building and into the sunshine. The weather was clear and sunny, and for the first time since I was attacked the day before, I felt my spirits lift. I loved the first warm days of the year and the air that's filled with the fragrance of spring. Riverside was in the country, so the outdoor air smelled fresh.

  It took only a moment for the sounds of the yard and the pain in my rectum to smack my senses with the brutal reality of my surroundings. Basketballs were bouncing. Men were laughing. Radios blared from everywhere. I could hear steel hitting concrete in the weight pit off in the distance.

  "That's Slide Step's kid," someone said, among a group of men standing at the foot of the stairs. He pointed at me. I smelled the pot from the joint they were passing. I lowered my eyes and hurried past, but one of them stepped from the crowd and blocked my way. "How you doing," he asked in a seductive voice.

  "OK," I said, stepping around him.

  They laughed as I raced off.

  I decided to stroll the patchy gre
en and filth-ridden yard. It had been exactly fifty days since I was last outside and free to walk on my own. I missed the isolation of being locked up alone in my cell in Quarantine. It seemed hard to believe that I had only been in general population for two days. So far, I'd gotten drunk, drugged, almost sliced to pieces by a jealous boyfriend, and sold-or rather won, in a coin toss. I wondered what day three would be like.

  The thought of having been won in a coin toss was too much for me to take in. So whenever the memory of it would occur to me-I'd literally shake it out of my head. It was too devastating to comprehend-and since no one would ever know about it outside of here-I struggled to pretend like it had never happened.

  I wanted to stay in bed all day, but I couldn't sleep. The guys in my dorm were rowdy, and then a guard came around and kicked us out. He said if we didn't have job assignments, we had to go into the day room or out in the yard until the afternoon count.

  I thought about reporting the rapes, but my brother's voice rang inside my head: Punks are fucked, but Snitches get killed.

  The twisted path that encircled the yard was made of blacktop. I wished I could walk out of there and somehow walk off what had happened to me the day before. I wanted to shake this dreadful, Oh my God, what has happened to me? feeling that haunted my every step. But it was too late. Everyone knew what had happened, and now everyone knew what I was-a fag. There was no going back.

  "God damn!" said a black inmate, as he passed me. "That's a fine motherfucker right there."

  "Mmm, Mmm," said another. "Slide Step's holdin' all the cards in this game!"

  I couldn't stop replaying in my head what I could have done differently. Why did I drink? I know what happens to me when I get drunk. Hadn't Rick told me this was what happened to fish ? The intake psychologist had told me point blank that I'd get fucked. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened, even if I hadn't been drinking. Still, I hated myself for falling into their trap so stupidly.