Sixty-two percent of the people who's here is still waiting for their sentence, and Eric was as well. He had read it in his usual magazine, which came out every Saturday, where the report about American Jails were. He didn't believe what the magazine said. “Bullshit,” he had said and laughed loudly, not caring if his currant wife or anyone else in the building had heard. Then he had taken a sip of his sixth beer that night, not that he counted, and left his apartment for a drive with his newly paid car. That's how he ended up here; Angola.
“It's all your fault!” Eric screamed, kicking the wall, before clutching his foot in pain. He almost thought he was going insane, as a new injury was marking his body with every day that passed. He didn't notice walking, but he obviously had, since he felt the hard madras under his ass as he sat down on the bed. Head in his hands, trying to escape the last light from the sunset, he heard another fight from the women in the cell next to them;
“Fucking!” a slap against skin was heard... “Slutty!” another slap. “Bitch!” a moan.
“Relax, kid. It gets better.” Eric's cellmate, Vince, was standing against the light grey
depressing wall; His head against the hard substance, while his muscular arms was crossed. Eric couldn't say he wasn't afraid of him in the beginning. Especially since he, as everyone else in America, had heard of the violence, the rape and the 'I don't care'-attitude from the jail guards. Not everything was true though. The violence was minimal, thanks to the 'I care about my job and everyone in it'-ethic from the jail guards, while the sex always seemed to happen willingly in the building he was in, as he knew well from his female inmates next to him.
“Like you would know. And stop calling me kid!” Eric snapped, removing his hands from his face, as he commanded his slim body to stand, his legs shaking as he walked towards his cellmate.
“I'm here for the same reason as you are, kid.” Vince spoke, trying to calm down his cellmate, before continuing;“You need to rest.”
“I...” Eric growled, as he reached to his cellmate, standing in front of him and Vince almost thought he could see the hunger in Eric's cold, black eyes. “...need a drink!”
“I've been through it too, you know,” Vince tried again, this time with some luck. “We all have.” Eric walked towards his so-called-bed; shaking, as a side-affect to his need of alcohol. Vince stood still until Eric has reached his bed, the air thick with anger between the two. Then, when Eric finally had sat down on the white bedsheets, Vince spoke; “I got 7 years, others not even a year, and I know you're afraid of your sentence, but-” he was interrupted by the man on the bed, lying flat out on his back.
“I'm not afraid of my sentence,” he said, his voice was trembling, but strong.
“Then what-” Vince stopped for a second, taking in the sight of the younger man just meters away. Eric had short black hair which was longer than when he came in three weeks ago, and his clear blue yes, now had a shade of black. The slim body he came in with, almost seemed skinnier now. Vince almost thought back on his time as a new-comer, about the withdraws Eric now was going through and how much he hated his physiologist. He was sure Eric didn't see anything good in his shrink either. “What are you afraid of?”
“W-what I did,” Eric said, his voice trembling and his head shaking a little from side to side.
Another slap was heard from the opposite side of the wall, and then another smack against skin, almost unheard by a groan. “Fuck,” a girl moaned loudly out in the silence.
It was actually one of the most quiet days, taking no mind to the couple behind the wall, they'd ever had since Eric came here and it felt almost unbearable. As Eric's body fell asleep, his mind connected to an image of a street; An nice, little road on the countryside.
Children, running over the street, shocked when a car came. No one thought it would come so fast, and they didn't know the driver had been drinking. The children screamed as the car came closer and the mothers, sitting on the sidewalk, tried to call their children back to them; “Ann, come here!”, while others were screaming for their parents, running in the road to save their little siblings. “Mommy, please come back.” They said, while others would call on their father; “Daddy, no!” The newly paid car would come closer to the children and the parents, and as some of them ran out of the road, children in arms, other stood still and watched the car get closer. The owner of the car screaming, trying to stop the car. Then- “Eric!”
Eric woke up, voice dry from his own screaming, as he sat up to look at the man who had shaking him. As he found the man to be his cellmate, he quickly lied down again. It wasn't the first time Eric had woken up with his cellmate's help, but he hoped it was the last. To be honest with himself, this scared Eric to death. “Sorry,” Eric said, and turned his back to the older of the two, as Vince slipped in a “no problem, kid” before Eric fell in a deep, dreamless sleep.
Vince was exhausted. Eric was different than his other cellmates. Eric needed guidance that Vince never had needed to give anyone else. He needed someone to tell him what to do, and when to do it. Especially since Eric was like a little kid, Vince thought to himself, as he sat on his bed, legs hanging over the side.
Vince woke up to a jail-guard saying he had to “get some food before the shift,” to be saying his exact words. Down in the food area, he was surprised to see Eric eat, which he hadn't since he came here. As Vince made eye-contact with Eric, he smirked at Eric's lips curving up, and went in line to get some food. The line wasn't long, as it wasn't so many prisoners in the 'drug-abuse'-section, or 'Section E', as the staff called it. Section E was a little section with a small group of people, around 300 or so, where there was the lowest security and cells enough for them all, where in section A, the dangerous zone, there were barley one cell for 20 people.
“You look happy today, kid.” Vince said, his smirk still on his face, as he sat down his plate, before sitting down himself.
“Yeah,” Eric simply said, making Vince extremely curious of the change.
“Going to tell me why?” Vince looked in Eric's eyes, and was surprised by not seeing the usual darkness in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Eric repeated.
It was quiet for a second; Eric collecting his mind, and Vince wondering what in the hell had happened since last night.
“I got a visit,” Eric finally said, breaking the silence of what seemed to have been hours for the prisoners. Vince stayed quiet, his eyes smiling brightly at Eric as to say “go on” and Eric did. “My lawyer came.” Eric looked down for a minute, and Vince was took a deep breath, still wondering what was about to come. And the day after Eric had said what he did; he was gone.
“I never killed anyone.”