Inside this cell

Taylor

As time went by gradually Shelby's name was forgotten, her possessions vanished, her presence gone. She wasn't there long, and I didn't get to even truly know a thing about her but it shook me. Did you ever when you were younger intentionally kill an ant? At the time you think its life doesn't really hold much value, its small what does it bring to the world and would anyone even notice if it was gone?. Then when you kill it, you begin to think how quickly its life was over, it was moving two seconds ago, it was on a path following the others, it had a goal and a mission and I took it away for no apparent reason. Then you go and do something and never think of that ant again. Shelby was kind of like that ant, I didn't know her goal or mission, I didn't know a single thing, yet her life gone so quickly from our cell to the dining room, just made my mind spin. Are we the creators of our own destiny or is life controlled by powers above just as a human could control an ants life duration.
I stayed on my own for a while after that, I guess they thought I was better off that way, maybe they thought I drove her to it and didn't want to put anyone with me?. Despite my two bunk cell I found solace in silence, I never needed to talk or have someone near me to feel like I existed, so having this isolated cell was in some regard an ideal situation. Being an only child in an ironic way had prepared me for being alone, I never felt the need to rely on company because I wasn't raised with any and I had more than enough time on my hands to be creative in my mind so silence was never my enemy.
Outside it was a miserable winters day, the concrete painted black with rain, the wind made the trees dance in sync, and there was not a person in sight in the yards. It reminded me of when I was a child and the summer nights would be so warm that we would instinctively stand on the driveway with our hands in the air and tongues out thinking we could drink the rain drops. It's the weirdest sights and sounds that trigger our memories.
Last night as I head back toward my cell after sitting in the communal lounge, watching the worst television imaginable, a guard approached me and told me that I had a visitor coming in the morning. " Who" I asked with disbelief, he didn't feel the need tell me who and kept walking on ignorant to my question. I have no one on my call or visit list so I can't help but think this wont be good, and the time is approaching fast for me to get organised. I get up like every other morning, stick to the routine like a militant, make bed, straighten minimal belongings, grab toiletries and make my way to the showers to get ready for what waits ahead or should I say who waits ahead.
Thankfully I always get to the showers when they are basically empty, it means I skip breakfast but god its worth it to not have to hear the constant pathetic conversations that you can hear amongst some of these women. I used to think complaining about a half filled fries at McDonalds was extremely privileged until I hear these women who are complaining of water temperature, coldness of the tiles under their feet, the wrong fragrance soap given through commissary as if they were entitled, forgetting they were here for committing crimes.
Now I have found showering on my own meditation and it's the one thing I can sort of control in this constricted environment, except this morning. Of all days
I can hear a shower running as I walk in and put all my belongings on the bench, I head to a cubicle slightly anxious as there is never anyone here and trying to claw together a plan of what I will do if someone decides to assert authority.
I see a shadow of a person behind the curtain, alive, so I can at least rule that out, I wont see a dead person again today. In what lifetime did I ever think that sentence would come out of my mouth. There doesn't seem to be a gang of women holding shiv's ready to charge liking a Viking clan, so I can abandon my pathetic survival plan which resembled a scene from Wentworth where I press the panic button and curl into a ball in the corner waiting for a guard to save me, complete prison rookie.
To avoid looking like a complete stalker I turn on the shower in the last cubicle furthest away from this unidentified co cleanser. It's awkwardly silent, both I assume trying not to make any sudden noises, ironically we both knew each other was there so the challenge to be silent was really unnecessary.
I'm trying to be quick, but at the same time trying to take longer as she was here first, so surely she will leave first, then I can have my sought after alone time in the only place in this hell that can be a slither of relaxation. She is taking forever and I am running out of time, I need to be at the visitor check in soon, who is this person and why is she invading my time!?. I remember a girl at primary school who would always make it to the canteen before me, every single time, I even went to the lengths of pretending to need to go to the toilet right before the bell would ring, I would sneak my books with me so I wouldn't need to return to class. This girl would still be there, she would know my thoughts, my strategies, my tactics. Maybe she is the girl in the shower.
I turn off the shower and with frustration grab all of my toiletries, wrap the towel around me and march out of the cubicle, its funny what can piss you off so much in jail. Her shower still running, I roll my eyes as I walk by as if she can see and feel some form of intimidation from it, or have her acknowledge her participation in my disruption. At the same time I cant help but think this woman who I now despise must to some extent think on my level, she is like the canteen stalker from school, her and I both know how to utilise peace in a cage to save our souls.
I head back to my cell before my visitor unveils themselves, I remake my bed, I have developed some weird control issues in here, straighten up my books, place my toiletries on the shelf as if it is my only trophy to display proudly. I sit on the edge of my bed, I have to wait for the guard to collect me and each passing second feels like a minute, each minute feels like an hour! I don't know if its the anxiety but it feels as though I might have a heart attack at any given moment, the beating, I can feel it in my throat. I play over the tapes in my mind from the beginning of being here, who have I spoken to on the outside, who could need to see me without trying to ask first, I admit amongst the pain staking stress I'm under its nice to remember what curiosity was, a feeling I haven't had a lot of here.
I hear the foot steps with such solid heavy strides coming toward my cell. Brace yourself, its time, wipe your hands on your pants and remove the excess sweat, I'm doing everything that normal people do when they're anxious. The guard smirks at me and walks past, that side smile enrages me, like you have some insider joke going on that I'm not entitled to know, despite the inside joke clearly being about me if your directing your disturbing smirk my way. He walks past and doesn't hint that it was my turn next, just casually strolls on by. Now my mind is going crazy, it wasn't bad enough that I don't know who I am meant to be seeing but that they wont even give me a 5 minute prep warning, the dignity of a heads up. Another set of steps come tapping my way, this set more controlled and elegant than the last. The pause, the golden sound of paused steps was what I had been awaiting. " Visitor " is said in a stern yet pleasant voice, " come on, time to go". I jump to my feet as a swimmer would dive to the water when the gun shot fires. She can sense that I'm anxious, I think my awkward body language and fidgeting movements either gave it away or just annoyed her so much she had to mention it, " stop stressing, its just a visit, not like you've never spoken to anyone", I know this was meant to soothe my mind, but it just confused me even more.
I don't engage in conversation with her, but I did stop fidgeting so she felt the need to not speak to me either, a mutual silence if you will. She opens the what I like to call, " leave your dignity at the door" room. Same routine, same set of instructions, at least I've found another constant in this hell of chaos. " Strip, bend over, squat, cough, move your hair, shake your hair, behind your ears, now open your mouth, move your tongue, lift you breasts, spread your toes" .. to be honest its like a work out I didn't exactly ask for, then of course redress. Once we've had our fun, and I say that in the most sarcastic and condescending tone imagined, she leads me to the corresponding door from where we entered. It leads down a short hallway and off to the left is a large rec room filled with round plastic tables and chairs windows to the outside on the other side of the prison, oddly just the change of scenery was uplifting. I scan the room without actually processing a single face, I hear the sounds though, I hear a room filled with people chatting, some laughs and a tone in voices that isn't exactly misery for that moment in time. It was like entering the doors of a really fucked up restaurant but that same noise, you cant process one groups conversation but you can hear the individuals speak.
" There you go, hurry up", I looked stunned, " Um sorry who, who am I meeting?' I know I sounded crazy at this point but it was a logical question, " Dont be an idiot and just hurry up before you lose the bloody privilege of a visit" as she pointed to a table. There is a single woman sitting with her back towards me, her hair pulled back, her outfit neatly fitted, this isn't a woman I know. My heart begins to thump so hard it has made its way back to my throat. Here we go again.
"Hi I'm Taylor, nice to meet you, take a seat".