I moved my eyes around, although it was really painful to do it. My brain was mush by now, between the abuse and the constant injection of drugs. This shit was getting out of hand. The constant moving around was how I knew they were doing shit they had no business doing, and trying to hide it.

  After the incident with Dr. Clemons, he’d beaten me in my head and face until I finally let go of his leg. Blood had leaked down my mouth and chin. By the time the nurses and orderlies and other doctors got on the scene, I had lost consciousness.

  Over the next few days, I had awoken a few times to severe pain. I knew my lip was busted, my eye was swollen, and I had a gash over my other eye. He had beaten the shit out of me, but he also walked away with a chuck of skin missing from his leg. That’s what his perverted ass got for thinking he could do that shit to me without any consequences.

  Drugged or not, I still had a little street sense in me. I had been waiting for the right opportunity to show his ass that I was the wrong one to keep fucking with. Also, I started feeling like I had nothing more to live for, so I acted as such when I got the chance. I mean, what was the worst they could do now? Kill me? I felt like that would be my fate in the end, anyway.

  I had no clue when the days changed into night, and I had slept so much that I wasn’t tired anymore. I was starting to go stir-crazy. I had begun talking to myself whenever I was awake long enough. The mental deterioration was real, for sure.

  When I noticed all of the little bugs that were living in this new dungeon with me, I almost lost it. There were huge hissing cockroaches, every type of spider you could think of, and even centipedes. I’d awoken to a centipede crawling on my face. I jumped up and panicked. I went crazy, running in circles and brushing it off of me, but there was really nowhere for me to run. I didn’t even have on shoes to squash the bugs with, but at least I wasn’t strapped to a bed or a chair like before.

  I was back to square one in yet another solitary-confinement situation. I was going crazy. This treatment was cruel and unusual—something I knew was against the law, based on the stuff Sandra had given me to read over. I thought about Sandra every day and prayed that one day she was going to ride in with the cavalry and save me. She said she’d written everything down that I’d told her; now it was just a waiting game. Maybe if I called her again she would understand how life-or-death it really was, and she would help me out of this. I had lost hope on Anderson helping me. For all I knew, Terrell’s family or Ahmad had already killed my mother and gotten to Anderson too.

  Never had I lived in conditions like this. I was starting to grow increasingly paranoid and felt like I was losing my mind. I started seeing things and hearing voices. That had happened to me before, when I was on the drugs they’d given me; but this time, it was just my mind. Even when there were no bugs near me, I continued to feel like they were crawling on me. I just kept brushing off my skin and scratching it. I really felt like a mental patient locked up in an insane asylum. That is what that room reminded me of. This wasn’t prison; this was torture. All I could think of was that the only way out of here was a body bag. Period.

  I had tried screaming several times until my throat was raw, but I knew that nobody could hear me down here. This place wasn’t like the one with the black doors and other inmates behind them. Here, there was dead silence, which was another thing that drove me crazy. I was alone. The sound of my voice just kept bouncing off the walls like an echo. That told me that the room was probably soundproof, so I really had no hope of anyone hearing me. The conditions I was being kept in were beyond inhumane, and I suddenly started to think that I would’ve been better off being given over to Ahmad and his crew. Once I started thinking like that, I knew I was delirious.

  I was hungry as hell, and I felt like I had not eaten in weeks. I dreamed of all types of food. I dreamed of it so much, I thought I could taste a nice, big fried chicken breast with a lot of hot sauce. Who was I fooling? I would probably never get another chance at having fried chicken in my life.

  After what seemed like an eternity of lying on the horrible, thin-ass mattress, I heard keys jingling outside of the door. I sat up when I heard the noises and I started feeling mixed emotions. On the one hand, I felt nervous that Dr. Clemons was coming back to kill me, once and for all, but on the other hand, I was feeling kind of happy to have somebody finally coming in there at all to see if I was dead or alive. I needed some human contact, and I was hoping that they would at least give me some bread and water to survive the days.

  As the door to my new prison swung open, I sat up erect. When they walked into the room, I noticed that it was Lisa and two other people I didn’t recognize. I backed up and sat back down on my bed. I had no idea what they were coming to do. I hugged my knees to my chest and began rocking; I just knew it was my time to die. I looked up at them helplessly. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Lisa finally spoke first. “Misty, are you all right?” she asked, her voice calm. She was back to the attentive, calm nurse I’d met before.

  I swallowed hard as I tried to find the words to say to her, but none would come. I didn’t trust one soul in that prison. Not one. I cowered on the bed, shaking.

  “It’s all right. We snuck down here to check on you. I got word about what happened and I’m trying to help you,” Lisa said, following up. “He is out of hand, and we can’t stand for it anymore.”

  I looked up at her through sad eyes. I didn’t know whether to trust her or not. I shook my head no. “He—he’s . . . going to kill me,” I managed.

  “Can you stand up so we can examine you? I need to make the case that this is not what should be going on,” Lisa said, reaching out her hand to help me up.

  I put my legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up, but I couldn’t. Lisa and the two men moved to my side. When they stood me up on my feet, my legs kind of buckled from being so weak. I had sat down or lain down for so long, my legs couldn’t support me.

  “What will happen to me now? Can you help me?” I asked in a raspy voice.

  “I’m trying. But I need you to be on your best behavior so you won’t bring any attention down here,” Lisa said. “He put you here with no cameras so he could do what he wanted to you, but this works in our favor. We have to move fast,” she said to me. Then she turned toward the other people and pointed toward me.

  “As you can see, this inmate had been mentally and physically abused. I want this in the news story,” Lisa whispered to them.

  They were dressed like doctors, but clearly she had snuck them in, and they were reporters. My heart leapt in my chest. I don’t think I had felt happy in so long, I didn’t know how to react.

  “Misty, I’ll be back. I’m going to write it up so you can get out of here, and then we will work on everything else,” Lisa said, getting ready to turn for the door again.

  “Please! No! Don’t leave me down here. I’ll die! You have to help me get out of here. He will come back and kill me,” I pled, panic taking over me.

  “I will make sure you get out of here, Misty. I’m not going to let this keep happening to you,” she promised. With that, she was gone.

  I didn’t believe her. I had thought about bulldozing her and pushing my way out of there. I knew that would just get me beat down and locked down for longer.

  * * *

  “Mmmm,” I moaned as I came into consciousness a couple of days after Lisa visited me. I was immediately aware of every inch of my body, because everything was racked with pain. I slowly opened my eyes and painfully realized nothing had changed. The pain that shot through my skull when I opened my eyes forced me to snap them shut.

  “Mmmm,” I moaned once more, quickly feeling a fire raging in my throat. It was because my mouth and throat were so dry from not eating or drinking.

  As I lay there in pain, waiting for Lisa to come give me something to knock me back out, I heard a different set of footsteps coming toward me. I began to shake, with fear gripping me tight. In this prison, you just never knew who worked for whom, and what kind of crazy shit they were going to do. I swallowed hard, which was painful as hell.

  I started saying a silent prayer in my head. God, if You just let me make it through one more night without being taken back to Dr. Clemons, I’ll never do anything wrong again. I’d said many a prayer, but I meant this one. I was at the end of my rope now. Suicide was sounding really good to me, but I had already promised myself and God that I would never try that again.

  Suddenly I felt a cold hand touch my arm. I just knew I was about to die. I couldn’t bring myself to open up my eyes and face death like a woman. Then I heard a voice.

  “Misty, I’m here, like I said I would be,” a man’s voice filtered into my ear. The voice was kind of soothing and didn’t have any hints of evil behind it. It was also familiar. I felt relief wash over me. I opened my eyes slowly and my heart leapt.

  “It’s me . . . Anderson . . . you remember me?” he whispered lightly. “I finally got to your mother and did what you asked me to do,” he said. “It wasn’t easy. There are a lot of people after her, and then they came after me, but I was smarter than them. She is okay, but really upset they are not allowing her to see you.”

  A jolt of excitement flitted through my stomach, and even that caused me pain.

  I finally calmed down a little bit and struggled to keep my eyes open. I could tell by the look of terror etched on Anderson’s face that I must’ve looked like shit. I moaned and motioned for him to help me up.

  “Lisa told me everything. We are going to get you out of here,” he said, looking around nervously every time he spoke.

  “How do I know I can trust you? It’s been so long, and you left me here for dead,” I rasped, on the verge of tears. “I didn’t think you were coming back. You were just gone.”

  Anderson looked at me with a serious look on his face and let out a long breath. Something about his look caused a flash of panic to go through my chest, but I ignored it. He was the person I had been putting all of my hope on since I’d been locked up. He and Sandra were my only hopes.

  “You can trust me. I just needed time. But I must tell you, it’s not going to be easy. We have to do this in steps. You will have to follow all of our instructions, or you risk being caught. If that happens, we are all doomed,” Anderson said seriously.

  I began shaking at what he was saying. It was the different steps in this place that I was afraid of. “No, please. Just take me out of here.”

  Anderson lowered his eyes and shook his head, as though I had given him an impossible task. I felt my stomach drop and it began somersaulting again.

  “I will help you,” he said flatly.

  I shook my head in understanding and closed my eyes as tears began to leak from the sides. All I could do now was pray that Anderson wouldn’t disappear again.

  * * *

  My prayers were finally answered. It was the middle of the night when Anderson and Lisa came together at the change of shift. They led me out of the dungeon cell and down another darkened, long hallway.

  When we were finally out of the dungeon, I was happy to see light. I couldn’t move as fast as they wanted, so they began helping me fallen-soldier style. I had one arm around Anderson’s neck and one around Lisa’s neck and they moved fast.

  “We have to put you back into the dorm, but it won’t be for long. I put you on the list so that the COs there won’t be suspicious. But, I promise, it won’t be for long,” Anderson said. “I will come back for you. It was too long before, but it won’t be like that, this time.”

  After we made it back to the dorm-style bunk area, which I had been in before, I was placed in a bed, like I’d been transferred there officially. I looked over and saw the same CO that was always there. He always turned a blind eye to everything. He was the same one that had let that strange man snatch me from my bed and carry me away.

  The CO wore a serious look on his face and ignored the glares I was throwing his way. I guess he didn’t care; he was there to do a job and obviously to turn a blind eye to the illegal shit that was going down inside the prison. A lot of employees inside that prison turned a blind eye. It was the norm rather than not.

  I can’t lie: I was never so happy to be in a room full of women in my life. I glanced around, but I didn’t see Shanta. I figured, once she realized I was back, she’d come over and see me.

  I stared at the bed and longed to just climb into it and get a decent night’s sleep. That was just a dream, though. I knew that it was still prison, and at any moment, anything could change. I did the best I could to get some rest, but it seemed like the breakfast call came so fast.

  As weak and shaky as I was, I almost ran to the chow hall. I was so hungry that I bent over a bowl of prison oatmeal, which doubled as slop, and devoured it like it was bacon and eggs. I did not even take a minute to breathe.

  I saw a girl staring at me and I could tell she was looking at the bruises on my face and arms. I instantly felt self-conscious and a little embarrassed. I tried to cover the marks with my hands. She sat right next to me. I must admit she was bold. I hadn’t had a lot of luck trusting chicks, so I instantly shot her a dirty look. I let her know with just the look on my face that I wasn’t about to put up with no bullshit.

  “It’s all good,” the girl said sadly. “You don’t need to hide them. I know all about it. I’ve been there. Just be lucky you made it back,” she said. She really looked like she felt sorry for me.

  The look on her face made me push my food away and break down into racking sobs. I started crying instantly. I was kind of mad at myself for showing weakness, but I couldn’t help it. The tears and breakdown came so fast and furious, I couldn’t stop it, even if I wanted.

  “They tortured me. They beat me and slapped me. I have been used and sexually abused. I have been put through some sick stuff and I just can’t take it anymore,” I cried, putting my face in my hands. “And God only knows what kind of shit they put in my body that might have long-term effects.” I was really at my breaking point.

  The girl looked around and moved a little bit closer. She started speaking to me quietly. I was surprised, but I listened to her closely.

  “Sh . . . you are lucky to be alive. There are many women that don’t make it out of there alive. They let you live for a reason, because if you were anyone else, you would be dead,” the girl told me gravely. “I was one of the lucky ones too, but I think they can come back for me any minute.”

  “I don’t even care if they kill me. They should’ve killed me,” I said through my tears. I was shaking all over. “Look at me now. I want to die! I am never going to get out of here and I’d rather die than let these people keep on using and abusing my body.” I continued to speak through racking sobs. I meant it too. I really felt like I had nothing to live for. I continued crying. The girl looked at me sympathetically.

  “Sh,” she hushed me. “You don’t want them to hear you crying and saying that you want to die,” she said. “They will kill you and think nothing more of you. I’ve seen it done before, and it was like nothing to them,” she told me.

  “You heard what I said, I don’t really care anymore,” I sobbed.

  “You have to live. You have to survive for the others. You are probably the only one that can help all of us now,” she said.

  Her words struck me as strange. Why would she say that I was the one that could help them? Where would she get that idea? I looked at her with a very confused look on my face. I didn’t know what she meant by her words. I started getting paranoid that she’d overheard that I might be getting help to get out. Maybe she’d heard something about my plans. A cold chill shot down my spine. I looked at her sideways. She noticed the look.

  “Shanta told me who you were before . . . ,” the girl said.

  I sniffled back my tears and looked at her then. Just the mention of Shanta made me put my guard down a little bit. “Before what?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “You don’t know?” she asked, looking over her shoulder like someone might’ve been watching us.

  “No. Now tell me what you’re talking about,” I said with urgency.

  “Shanta is gone,” the girl said, then hung her head.

  “What? What are you telling me?” I demanded.

  “They came and got her, just like they did you, but she never made it back. We heard days ago that she didn’t make it,” the girl said sadly.

  A lump immediately formed in my throat. “How? What happened to her?” I croaked.

  “The rumor is that she was stabbed to death trying to free herself from those bastard doctors. None of the other girls in with her had dared to step up, but they said Shanta had tried to save them all. She got hold of a scalpel, but she had no wins, and they turned it on her. We heard about it from another girl that made it out. She said they really did a job on Shanta. That evil Dr. Clemons did all kinds of stuff to her. It was a shame, because I found out that she had kids on the outside,” the girl relayed.

  My heart sank and I felt cold all over my body. I had really liked Shanta. She was genuine. The news of her death depressed me to no end. Shanta had been so nice to me. No one deserved to die like that. She was a victim of this corrupt system, just like me.

  After I heard the news, I couldn’t eat anymore. I lay in my bunk for two days, refusing to leave for chow or to shower after that. I kept picturing Shanta’s face and all of the things she had done for me while I was on the dorm with her.

  I could’ve never imagined that she would’ve given up her own life for others like that. It made me feel even weaker that I hadn’t tried to fight for myself like she had. The depression had hit me so bad that the prison psychologist came by to speak to me; even that soft-spoken, mousy-faced woman couldn’t get me to utter a word. She kept whispering my name and asking me if I was okay or if I thought I needed to see a doctor.

  What the hell did she think? I had been tortured. I had lost a friend to this shit. I hadn’t heard from my mother. Anderson hadn’t come back yet. I was feeling helpless and hopeless. Every time I thought a little help was coming, it seemed like a fantasy. When it was all said and done, I would leave this fucking place dead or with all of the injuries plaguing me.