By Tee Tyson
Twelve feet of scuffed grey linoleum separate me from my freedom. As I wait for the guard behind the desk to finish up my paperwork, I stare out the glass doors. It’s been six years of laundry duty, over-cooked vegetables, and sweatpants. Funny thing is, I’m not thinking about the first breath of air I’m going to draw into my lungs when I walk through the door.
I’m thinking about my only friend in the world, and whether he’s waiting for me.
The first time I met Liam, I thought he was a pervert. And it wasn’t the moustache. In 1975 every man and his brother sported pedophile hair on their upper lip. I remember our first encounter in vivid detail because it was the same day Connie Wiese shoved a broken broom handle up my twat.
On the day I met Liam, Connie and her gang jumped me. Of course, I wasn’t surprised. They always made sure the girls leaving Wells Reformatory were given a going away party. There wasn’t anything I could do. At the time, I was fifteen and had been at Wells for almost a year. My release date was in a week’s time. Very few girls managed to escape without a few black and blues on them.
Mine was worse than the others though because Connie hated me. You see, I’d been untouchable up until a month prior when Roxy moved up to big girl jail, leaving me alone to fend for myself. To clarify, Roxy and I kind of had this thing going on. It was relatively innocent. We roomed together and I let her kiss me and braid my hair and, in return, she kept me safe.
All the girls respected Roxy because she’d been in since she was ten. The only reason Connie wanted to kick my ass was because she used to be Roxy’s, until I arrived. Kicking my ass was payback for me stealing her chick, and protection.
Four of the girls delivered the beating, alternating between punches and kicks, and the whole time Free Bird played on the radio. Curled on the cold ceramic floor, I listened to the lyrics and convinced myself I was going to die. Looking back, I wanted to die. Fifteen years of my life didn’t so much flash through my head, but crashed into me with each blow I received. Except, the memories were more painful. And when Connie shoved the broom handle up inside me, I saw the man who took my virginity. Ten years old and pimped out by my father. It doesn’t surprise me that I wanted to die. What exactly would I be living for?
The girls spat on me before they left, as if the broom handle shoved up my pussy wasn’t degrading enough. But this isn’t about Connie. It’s about Liam. And the fact that I thought he was a pervert.