CHAPTER XI: Seeing Another Side
A soft groan leaves my lips as I sit up and stretch out the sore muscles in my body, I sigh and glance over my naked form. I’d lost more weight in the past two or so months than I had in my entire life before coming to jail. I shiver as a draft passes through the room, causing my nipples to completely stiffen. I grab a blanket from the pile of bedding on the floor and wrap it around my body.
A familiar moan reaches my ears and I glance down at its source, smiling at the body huddled under three blankets. After a moment a fuzzy crimson colored mop of hair emerges from the blanket, bleary blue eyes gaze at me and I’m greeted with a small smile. My cellmate slowly sits up; the blankets dropping away to reveal her well shaped body. “Mournin’ Rizzy.” She mumbles and grinds the heel of her palm into her eye.
“Good to see that you’re awake. Tell me is it normal for my ribs to stick out like this?” I reply. She rubs her eyes and blinks a few times before squinting at me, studying my body for a good ten seconds before she answers.
“Yeah that happens, you should try eating more and going to the weight room.”
“But half the shit they serve is illegal to feed to dogs and the chicks that hang out in the weight room creep me out.” I pout cutely.
“You are truly one of a kind Rizzy.” My cellmate shakes her head in disbelieve. “Now where did our clothes go? I don’t remember where I threw them.” I shrug and wrap my arms around her neck. Pulling her in for a chaste kiss before letting myself fall on the bed, fighting a shiver at the sudden rush of cold air.
“It’s cold, warm me up.” I invite as a grin cracks across my face.
“Clothes are much warmer.” Mag answers and get off the bed to go search for them, securing a blanket around her shoulders as she does so.
“Why are you being such a prude?” I pout. She lets out an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not being prudish, I’m fucking cold and I’d rather like to have a pair of pants on right now!” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Are you going to help me look?” I stand up and pull my blanket closer around me; deciding to look around the door.
After five minutes of shuffling around our cell, I find my pants and Mag’s shirt at the foot of the bed. I groan softly when I realize what that means; I have to look under the bed. I drop to all fours, bringing me closer to the cement floor, which is right now emulating cold, and look under the bed. I find my cellmate’s wife beater and my shirt.
I glance over to Mag, who is now shaking out the blankets on the other bed. “Find anything?” I ask. She shrugs and drops the blanket that she’s holding. “Don’t be like that, you’ve got no reason to be pissed off so stop being stingy.” She drops to the ground and looks under the bed, reaching under it and pulling out my wife beater.
“Here,” She balls it up and throws it to me. “Try to remember where my pants are now.” I nod and think back to when I undressed her the night before and come up with one answer.
“Check behind the sink.” She turns and looks at me strangely but turns to look anyway, giving me a perfect view of her shapely bottom. She grabs something and stands up slowly, turning and giving me a dirty look. “Don’t ask me, I just threw it there.” I grab my pants and pull them on as my bed headed cellmate begins to do the same thing; about a minute later we both finish dressing.
She lies down on the bed and I follow, using her shoulder as a pillow as she wraps her arms around me. I cover us with a blanket and sigh. “Sorry about earlier.”
“Don’t sweat it just be quiet.” Mag answers and kisses my forehead. “Ready to hear the plan me and Namine have been working on?” She asks. I nod in response.
“Well you know that spot that I showed you, the one past the courts, between the building that has the weight room and the pool and the eastern wall. They got no security cameras in there and up to an hour after lunch they don’t have a guard directly posted there and none of the other ones see what goes on there. All right so our master plan is to have about twenty of our peons start ten different fights at certain areas of the yard. It’ll turn into one big brawl in minutes; the guards will have their hands full worrying about that. Meanwhile you and Amber will be leading Blaze and her cronies to the spot where Namine and I will wait and commence operation beat down. Cloe will be look out, you and Amber helping of course and we split when she gives the signal. I figure we give it another three weeks, to give Cloe some more time to heal up.” She explains.
I pull her tighter against me and sigh softly. “Fighting, scheming, raping, stabbing. How in the name of Fuck did this shit happen, how did we come up with the idea that putting a bunch of criminals in the same place would reform them! I was a fucking casher at Wal-Mart less than six months ago, I lived in a trailer park the worst thing I had to worry about was a late car payment. Now look, I’m here, fighting off crazy dykes who wanna see me scream when they shove a dildo up my ass, fighting off crazy dykes that want to stab me, finding my stabbed friends and now plotting to get back at the crazy dykes who caused all this shit! Is our justice system so fucked up that we can’t see that the innocent are among the guilty, that the guilty corrupt the innocent in our prisons?”
“What did you expect, huh?” She flips us over, pinning me with her arms, her warm body looming over me. “This is America, home of the overly medicated psychotic quakes and druggies that become leaders. We reform through punishment by our peers; ‘you’ll never do whatever crime you committed again if I bonk you up that ass for five years’. That is how it works!” She presses her lips to mine tenderly. “You act like a princess in a fairytale land and it comes back to get you Rizzy, what did you expect jail to be?”
“I expected all this, I was ready to get used to it. I can deal with constant abuse. You and Blaze, it all seemed so nice I got used to it, then all this happened. The start of the war, it fucked me over. A month ago, Cloe got stabbed and it fucked with me more, I can’t stand it now. You, all of it! One day your taking your time, fucking me nice and easy, two hours you’ve got a dildo in my ass, screaming at me.” I rant, taking a breath. “I was ready to take this shit when I first got here then you were nice and Blaze didn’t seem so bad, I got used to it then everything changed and I got fucked over.”
“That’s how it works here, in this Good Behavior Ward we have to put on a goody two shoes act for the guards, then we turn around and start doin’ all the shit that you’d expect a normal inmate to do, but sneakier.” Mag replies. “That’s just how it is. Though I have been wondering something.”
“And that would be?”
“How’d you get in here from the start?”
“Nothin’ too special, I just cut a deal. When the cops arrested me I knew that they had enough evidence to convict me, even though I didn’t do shit. So told them that I could help them get rock solid evidence on Craig if they put in a medium security prison, in the good behavior ward. I knew Craig well enough to find anything they needed. I thought I could deal with a few years among well behaved women.” Mag nods and sits up.
“Time to brush your hair, sit up.” My eccentric cellmate orders me, I groan but grudging oblige. Sitting up cross-legged in front of my lover, back facing her I straighten up and shake out my blonde mop. She starts by running her fingers through it, to loosen it. She takes her time and slowly teases the bigger knots apart with her long and nimble fingers, never once tugging hard enough to cause me pain.
As her fingers weave through my hair I begin to space out, my thoughts wandering to my current situation, how all this had happened and grim ideas of what the future may hold. When Mag sees the time right to use the brush through my hair my thoughts switch to what had happened in the past month. It has been relatively uneventful, when Blaze and Kami got out of Solitary they didn’t try for a revenge spot, Mag and Namine think that they’re plotting something big, kinda like we are, but I failed to mention that when we were discussing it in the library.
Cloe was released from the hospital a week ago, she’s got at least five hundred stitches in her abdomen. The warden gave her special permission to live the infirmary, with visitors and everything, she can’t really walk without someone to lean on and she doesn’t talk much, in fact the only person she talks to is the nurse. I don’t know why, the nurse claims it’s emotional trauma, Namine says she’s full of shit. I’ve gone down everyday to see her, we take walks never long ones, but yesterday she made it all the way to the TV room.
My sex life is nothing if not exciting. Mag has assured that I am the carpet-munching queen; I think I spent most of the month cleaning her cunt. I’ve also become more anally receptive, not too proud of that one and I’m not going to share how it happened. We’ve drabbled in S&M and BDSM, for both of which my cellmate was a creative thinker, but I’ve decided that both sexual methods are for the insane and the depraved but Mag and I qualify in both fields so that doesn’t make for much of an excuse. I’ve been in three-sums and four-sums, Namine and Amber filling the extra roles.
A slight tug on my hair pulls me back to reality. “What?” I snap, knowing that my lover wanted my attention.
“You need to stop spacing love, it makes having conversations with you confusing.” She answers.
“Was I mumbling again?”
“Yeah.”
“God I have to stop that!” Something else I’ve recently discovered about myself, I space out when I relax and often mumble tidbits of what I’m thinking. It really makes me wonder if I talk in my sleep. “What do you have on your mind?”
Mag continues brushing for a minute, completely silent, I don’t ask again because I know she heard me. Mag takes time to think about everything that may be related to her life before she was thrown in jail. Because of her pause I know that I’m treading on thin ice and should navigate carefully, there’s no telling how she could react if I say some wrong or she just flips out on her own. My last encounter with my unstable cellmate’s past sprained my ankle. “Nothing.” She lies.
“Don’t give me that, what’s up?” I reply quickly.
My cellmate is silent again, this time only for a few seconds. “Do you think that its wrong to touch a kid if you’re trying to show them that previous sexual abuse isn’t all that their part down there are for?” She finishes brushing my bangs back into place as I bring my hand up to my mouth and start chewing on my thumb nail, thinking hard for a couple of minutes.
“I don’t know Mag, touching kids is wrong but for something like that it seems right, but at the same time. You could hurt the kid emotionally and physically with shit like that; I guess it depends on the situation. What brought that up?” I glance back at her, noticing a particularly troubled look on her face as she glides the brush through my hair again.
“When I was growing up in southern Philly my mom married this scumbag named Jake Almond. I think I was seven then, mom worked at a gas station on the weekdays, so she didn’t need a babysitter, but a little bit before my eighth birthday she started working graveyard at Hooters on the weekends. That’s when things got shitty. Jake babysat me while my mom worked; we played all sorts of games. I ‘d suck on his head and he’d get me all hyped up with his fingers, then he’d tell me to rub my pussy against his dick, I’d do it ‘til he came. Then he’d get mad at me for touching myself and punish me. Once he made me spend three hours with three of my fingers up my bum. When I was nine he taught me how to deep throat and that a good slut always swallows, he also taught me how to give a hand job and how to make masturbation look sexy. I got my first period when I was ten; he fucked me during my bleed. Told me the blood would lube it and that his dick would make me hurt down there because I was a virgin. He was a scumbag, but he was an honorable one. He didn’t fuck me until he knew it wouldn’t harm my body permanently. I liked him, for two years he fucked me, unprotected of course but never once came in me; Jake made me feel loved. One my thirteenth birthday he grabbed a lubed condom and used half a tube of KY on the outside once he had it on. Kept telling me to rub my butt the way he’d showed me, and then he licked my butt loose. I didn’t figure out what he wanted to do until he had me bent over the side of the bed and was rubbing the last of the KY Jelly on my butt. He thrust in slowly, telling me I was a good girl. Then he started fucking me hard, it didn’t hurt so much, it was just uncomfortable, and he’d lubed me well. After Jake came he fingered me ‘til I came in his hand. He sent me off to bed so he could clean up. After that I never saw him again.” Mag explains slowly. “Next day when he went to work he got arrested for raping and molesting me.” I hear Mag shudder slightly. “The next month was hell for me, gynecologists, rape kits, DNA that stuff. Jake went to jail and my mom sent me off to a recovery center.” She takes a soft breath and sets the hairbrush down.
“I don’t know how anyone found out. I never told a soul and neither did Jake, we always finished hours before my mum came home and I was quiet while we fucked, he never said my name so the neighbors didn’t know it was me he was fucking. I never figured it out and my mom would freak out when I brought it up when I got out the recovery place.”
“What’s that got to do with what you said before?” I ask slightly perplexed as to where this conversation was headed. I hear Mag take a breath as though she was about to answer, but I hear no words. A pregnant silence hangs between us for what feels like endless hours, then Mag lets out the held in breath. She takes in another breath, quickly exhaling then inhales quickly, exhale, and inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, her breathing growing more rapid as the uncounted minutes pass.
It was sudden, a quick lunge and grab, but in less than a second I was trapped in a violent embrace. Mag was holding me tight against her body, her chest heaving and her eyes holding a wild look that I had never experienced before, she was radiating anger and rage, every second seemed to increase her need for violence. As she held me I only whimpered meekly, not bothering to struggle against her already knowing that I was out matched in strength.
Lying slackened in Mag’s arms I found myself opening my mouth and saying. “Mag what’s wrong?” She made no effort to reply, only shifted her grip on me so she could move her hand. Her hand began to descend from my mid riff down to the waistband of my pants, it moved slowly, making my skin crawl as her fingers tickled my cold skin. My throat was slowly drying up and my sex was tightening with arousal as it heated. “If you want to fuck, you know you don’t need to restrain me for it.” I try, wondering if this is some weird turn on for her.
Once again I get no answer. Her hand creeps into my pants, drawing a shudder from my body as she moves closer to the quickly pooling molten heat in my body; reflexively my body jerks toward her hand. A cold hand cups my pussy and rubs it gently, a finger probing in and massaging the soft outer flesh of my most intimate organ. I sigh softly and close my eyes as a friend joins the finger and they both enter me, thrusting in deep then scissoring apart. The two fingers work diligently, massaging every sensitive and soft spot in my pussy, bringing me closer to climax with every millisecond as time slowly inches past. My body sets a flame from excitement; my pussy burns for release as I let out ragged cries. My climax draws near and I can feel the tight knot deep in my belly about to explode from tension.
The fingers draw nearer to the spot hidden in my flesh that only my lover’s long fingers could have ever reached. “Almost there, baby. C’mon!” I pant, squirming against Mag’s body as her fingers ghost over the nexus of my pleasure. I jerk my hips and flail about to attempt to put pressure there, failing though.
A sudden shock of pan courses through my body as Mag curls her fingers and jams her nails into my nexus, digging into the flesh. I gasp and whimper, falling limp in her arms again. “Don’t do this.” I whine pitifully as she lets out a dry chuckle. She tenses her fingers and rips them out of my pussy, drawing a soft whine from me as I bury my face against her. “Please!” I beg. “No more.” Her fingers plunged into me, this time only lubricated by blood as my arousal has dried up. They scissor apart, stretching the laceration causing more pain, then curl and tense against my inner wall on the opposite side of the previous scratch. A yowl of pain escapes me as my agitated cellmate rips her fingers out of me again. “You’re hurting me!” I squeal.
Mag releases me and throws me onto the bed, with a barley seen motion she smacks me across the face. “The pain hasn’t even begun yet.” She informs me, her voice is flat and cold. She leaves the bed and goes to her cardboard box and roots through it, looking for something for a good two minutes before she straightens up with an orange dildo in her hand. The dildo was a little thicker than her fist and about eight inches long, not including the handle.
I glance at the cell door, closed and locked, most likely for at least another half hour. When I look back at Mag she’s got the dildo secured in her strong hand and is mounting the bed. I press myself against the wall, praying that I will phase through it. Mag grabs me and tells me to put my hands behind my head as she positions me in the middle of the bed, and I hasten to comply. Mag’s large body looms over me, her eyes staring down into mine.
I search her face for some sign of amusement, I long to hear her chuckle and let out a dry throated laugh, to laugh at my expense. I want her to say it was just a sick joke. In her face I find anger and rage, even hate, but I can find no reason for those things to be there. Her beautiful blue eyes crystallized and distorted by rage. I bite my lips together to stop from whimpering as she spreads my thighs apart. I turn my head to the side and screw my eyes shut as strong hands grasp my calves and move my leg farther apart so she can fit in between them, a body moving closer to my vulnerable pussy. The tip of the dildo presses against my abused opening, drawing barley stifled whimper from me.
My cellmate thrusts her arm forward driving the dildo into me without even a second’s hesitation. Oh, God the pain. Ripping and tearing my already injured pussy as it thrusts in the dildo forces it’s full length into me. I knot my fingers together and try not to pull my own hair as the air fills with high-pitched shrieks. The dildo pulls out and then slams back in, I screech in pain as my back arches, letting out small breathy whimpers agony.
What felt like hours later I had become silent and still, Mag was pounding away in my bloody pussy as I attempted to zone out, getting smacked every time. Giving me a final three hard thrusts, the rapist pulls out of my pussy and relocates the dildo so that it’s pushing against the opening to my ass. I don’t even flinch, but just stare up into her eyes, begging with only my eyes for her to not do this.
Mag turns from my gaze for a second, but when she turns back and looks down at me I see remorse and guilt written in her eyes. She straightens up and walks a couple feet away from me before throwing the orange dildo back into her box. I scramble to the corner of the bed that is jammed against the wall and press my back to the concrete as I curl into a little with my hands cupping my injured pussy. I pull up my pants but still keep my hands inside them to try and ease the aching and throbbing.
My cellmate doesn’t try to return to the bed, she just sits on the other bed and looks at me for a while. Then she tries to speak, but closes her mouth before she can form words. I look up enough to catch her eye then point to the edge of the bed with my chin. She understands enough and comes and sits at the edge of the bed. I pull my hands out of my pants and crawl over to her, resting my chin in her lap. “I screwed up big time.” She states.
“Yeah, I know.” I reply wiping my tears on her pants. “But will you do it again?” I ask looking up at her expectantly.
Mag shakes her head. “I don’t know Rizzy, I’m so fucked up. That shit I just did to you, a moment ago seemed perfectly logical, now I think that I’m a fucking psycho rapist.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “I don’t know if I will, that’s never happened before, so I’m not sure about myself anymore.” I nod and sigh, snuggling against Mag’s thigh.
I bite my bottom lip and then say childishly. “Make my pussy stop hurting.” Mag shakes her head.
“I can’t Rizzy, not without hurting you more.” I nod and wrap my arms around my unstable cellmate’s thigh. Mag reaches down and pets my head.
“Why aren’t you mad and spiteful or acting hurt?” She asks. “I just raped you, why aren’t you mad?” I shrug.
“I’m furious, but not at you, or this part of you. I’m mad at the other part, the different part. You, the remorse, the conscience are not the same person as the one who did this. I can feel the difference.” I assure her, closing my eyes and letting her stroke my hair.