Tim

A man in prison for 20 years so far talks about his story- how he killed a man at 14.

A bang in the hall across from me sent me bolt upright, my heart pounding, covered in sweat, and ready to fight for my life. It's been twenty years since I'd been put in prison. Even now, all these years later every day is a fight to live. The inmates around me are animals-  killers, robbers, rapists. Im 34 years old now- only fourteen when i was thrown into this hell hole. I grab my robe- a statement in itself i'll be here for a long while- and walk to the bathroom for my shower

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I let the luke warm water hit my back, my eyes darting back and forth watching the criminals in there for any signs of violence. I watched for anything, a glimmer of metal, a flash of bright plastic against the dull stone walls- it was all i needed for fight or flight to kick in, I felt like a caged animal. I remember seeing my first prison death. Inmate 374- he had stood right where i was now. It was his fault- he hadn't been being watchful, something no man could afford to do in prison. A shank had slipped right through his ribs, blood stained my feet that day warmer than the water that was around the clogged drains.

I didn't even care really, not when they'd come after me moments after, the old blue toothbrush against my neck in mere seconds. I felt it graze my neck, the blood of the man it had killed leaving a trail. I was 22 when he was killed.

As the blood ran down my neck I was brought back to my last day of freedom.

I had killed a man. Shot him where he stood. Stared at the shell of his body as his blood stained my face and clothes.

It was just supposed to be a robbery- I had told them that. My gang had said I was ready for it. Ant had dropped a gun into my hands and given me a firm nod. I remember looking down and touching the cool metal, amazed at how large it looked in my small hands. The five of us had planned this for days, done the recon, watched the store. We chose to go after the oldest clerk, the easiest to scare.

I should have known that wouldn't be true.

Together we ran into the small shop. I kicked in the flimsy screen door, its hinges screaming in protest as I did so. Scratch locked it behind us, Ant flipped the sign, and the other three of us walked over to the old man. He seemed so calm, as if 5 men in ski masks didn't phase him. I leveled the pistol at him, knowing the others did the same. S**t that thing was heavy, my hand tremored- with the weight of it  or the adrenaline I'll never know.

“Open the drawer old man” I ordered in the deepest voice I could find. He looked at me, almost confused.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost like he didn't realize i had a gun to his head.

I pulled the hammer back, a scare tactic the crew had showed me, and shoved the gun in his face.

“Open the damn drawer old man” I tried again.

Up close I could see his eyes, beady darting eyes- he may have acted calm but the loss of color on his face was enough to say he was shitting himself.

He shook his head, grabbed his keys and opened a drawer. He never came back up- instead scrambling down and popping up with an old revolver in his hands. A shot went off, setting John screaming in pain. Pain was good, at least he wasn't dead.

There was no time to react. No time to prepare as his second bullet plunged its way through my shoulder. I didn't even feel it, it felt like a punch to the shoulder at most. A hollow point 357mm bullet- I knew id feel it later. I straightened and took aim, no time to even think of how bad the s**t had hit the fan.

My first shot found its way into his head. He dropped like a stone on the floor, spraying blood as he did so.

I felt the prick of the toothbrush against my skin, dragging me from my reverie. This guy was a child next to me. I stared down at him, six foot two and two hundred pounds. He was maybe five six, a buck thirty at most.

Unfortunately for him, I was no longer the fourteen year old boy. I grabbed his arm with one hand, pulled it to the ground and stomped with all my weight. A loud snap was confirmation enough his arm was shattered- his screaming was just a plus. I cut it short by slamming his head into the concrete wall next to us. More blood. Good thing I was in the shower anyway.

I stepped carefully over his limp body, he’d be fine. Unconscious and in all sorts of pain when he woke up but not dead. I finish my shower, casually calm but aware of the others.

My robe hung on a small hook next to me, worn and frayed but still warm and comfortable. I got the guards attention, letting him know i saw a fight and the loser was on the floor bleeding out- why would they pin the blame on me when I was the one letting them know?

I wasn't a criminal, not by a long shot. I wasn't an animal, I wasn't a killer, I was a scared shitless kid in a man's body. There are so many things I’ve learned in my years at prison- how to turn a plastic garbage bag into a deadly weapon, how to turn a few wires into something that boils water in mere seconds, but i wasn't a man. I didn't know how to shake hands, or write an essay. I didn’t know what a resume was, or that to find a job you had to fill one out. I didn't know how to fit into society.

I didn’t fit in. I wasn’t a criminal. I wasn’t the average civilian. I wasn’t a friend, or a husband, or a father. I was just Tim. Alone. Scared. Helpless.

I stared at the wall across from me, the bunk above me creaking as my cell mate Tyler readjusted. The book I had selected lay closed on my bed, finished and ready to turn in. My callused fingered found my bed sheet, tightening around it. So many times id looked at it, thought of tying it around my neck and jumping from my tier. Depression is hard to evade when you’ve been alone for twenty years.

Author's Note

First part to this- not sure when there will be more yet! Advice?

Reviews

[Amy Couture]

This was good! I would add a little bit about life before the gang or some kind of memory so we can connect to the character before we find out he killed someone. I would show that to him he didn't really have a choice to kill the man or truly didn't want to, but then when you go back to present time and he kills the other prisoner, it's more of a shock. Also explain the tooth brush. Since I went to the prison I know that it can be uses as a weapon, others will only see a regular tooth brush.