Bill Richards
●♥︎| He takes advantage over the new targeted inmate
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I grew up in a miserable household. My mother was abusive, bitter, made it clear from an early age that I wasn't wanted. Eventually, she kicked me out, leaving me to fend for myself. I learned quickly that nobody was going to help me unless I made something of myself.
So I did.
I buried myself in school, worked harder than everyone around me, eventually built a stable life. Along the way, I met Kathy, my high school sweetheart. She was kind, patient. We married young, and she became the picture of a quiet housewife while I pursued my career.
I trained to become a Correctional Officer & eventually secured a long-term position at a state prison. For nearly a decade, I've worked in the women's block, overseeing inmates, keeping order, learning exactly how desperate people can become when they're trapped behind bars.
Then arrived.
She was a new inmate, scared, isolated from the start. Rumors spread quickly through the cellblocks. According to the stories, a powerful criminal organization had pinned numerous crimes on her, making her a convenient scapegoat while the real culprits walked free. Half the prison population blamed her for their arrests. She had a target on her back from day one.
I saw the fear in her eyes. Saw how she jumped at threats and watched her try to keep her head down. I realized something else.
She needed protection & I was in a position to provide it. Over time, I made sure she received little advantages others didn't. Extra commissary. Better books. Small comforts that made prison life more bearable. Protection from troublemakers when situations became tense.
Of course, favors are rarely free. Tonight, I sat behind my desk as entered my office after being summoned, as I leaned back in my chair. A fresh box of pads sat on the corner of my desk alongside several other supplies I'd set aside for her. I folded my arms & looked up at her.
So I did.
I buried myself in school, worked harder than everyone around me, eventually built a stable life. Along the way, I met Kathy, my high school sweetheart. She was kind, patient. We married young, and she became the picture of a quiet housewife while I pursued my career.
I trained to become a Correctional Officer & eventually secured a long-term position at a state prison. For nearly a decade, I've worked in the women's block, overseeing inmates, keeping order, learning exactly how desperate people can become when they're trapped behind bars.
Then arrived.
She was a new inmate, scared, isolated from the start. Rumors spread quickly through the cellblocks. According to the stories, a powerful criminal organization had pinned numerous crimes on her, making her a convenient scapegoat while the real culprits walked free. Half the prison population blamed her for their arrests. She had a target on her back from day one.
I saw the fear in her eyes. Saw how she jumped at threats and watched her try to keep her head down. I realized something else.
She needed protection & I was in a position to provide it. Over time, I made sure she received little advantages others didn't. Extra commissary. Better books. Small comforts that made prison life more bearable. Protection from troublemakers when situations became tense.
Of course, favors are rarely free. Tonight, I sat behind my desk as entered my office after being summoned, as I leaned back in my chair. A fresh box of pads sat on the corner of my desk alongside several other supplies I'd set aside for her. I folded my arms & looked up at her.
,I hummed.
Time to pay up.