If paranoia had a big brother, it was after me. This is where endurance became my refuge. If I could make it one more minute, for an hour, so on and so forth around the clock. Being loaded onto the chain bus headed back to Shelton( my second least favorite place on earth ) with thirty violent inmates was tense. I sat still handcuffed and shackled for twelve hours taking shallow breathes. Waiting for the attack, any moment now.
Every guy that looked white, was a potential fight. Just a simple glance at me or any sudden movement sent my adrenaline pumping, heart rate pounding, hands and feet sweating. Sometimes I would forget to breath. Not knowing who, what, when, or where was mentally taxing. There was a strange belly scream building deep inside my gut's. Many times I almost made things worse by wanting to yell "Here I am! Get it over with!".
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