Page 158 - The Houseguest

out too well for him later. This time he clenched involuntarily but felt nothing emotionally. He was soon brought to the community showers, another spot for humiliation that brought back memories so strong they could trigger PTSD. The prisoners were “disinfected” here, which Brian found demeaning the first time around, but now he was just stupefied and disoriented, removing himself from the current scene in his mind. He just didn’t care anymore. He had emotionally checked out and was mindlessly performing whatever motions were expected of him.
The doors to his new 6’ x 8’ home opened with a familiar clank. He entered donning his new prison garb. He knew there was paperwork being processed and it would be a long while before he was assigned a menial labor job like laundry, maintenance, janitorial. There was a set of metal bunk beds and naturally, the bottom bunk was occupied. The guy looked to be around 60, about 6’, brown and gray hair and not especially thrilled about having his solitude come to an end.
He did nod in acknowledgement of Brian’s arrival, accompanied by an audible grunt. Brian nodded in return just to lay the groundwork for a harmonious environment until he figured out what he was going to do about his current situation. He maneuvered his way into the top bunk carefully, having learned his lesson the hard way about accidentally infringing upon a cellmate’s personal space. He put his head back on the piece of foam disguised as a pillow and stared up at the gray. Everything was gray, just as he remembered it. The location had changed, but little else.
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life