Inside this cell

How. Just how.

"Thanks for meeting with me today" said the stranger from the other side of the visitors table. " I know you don't know who I am, and to be honest and upfront with you, I came here today to ask some formal and maybe uncomfortable questions". I stared blankly back at her with no expression, no words, no response, just a blank thought in my mind, here we go again.
" So who are you then?", my tone suggests I'm not willing to be best friends with this woman in a hurry.
"My name is Taylor, I am an independent journalist and I am intrigued by your story and others like yours. Basically I wanted to meet with you but knew if I had asked for your permission in a letter you may have rejected it based on me being a journalist".
" You're right", I said, with a tone that I can only imagine made her see that nothing she can say will capture my attention. I cant even fathom the audacity that this woman has, who does she honestly think she is assuming I am willing to open up to her.
" I wouldn't have agreed to meeting you if you asked me first, yet here you are anyway, getting what you want, without asking". I hope she feels as uncomfortable as I do right now.
She bowed her head slightly with an ashamed tilt, yet I know deep down she was still proud of her accomplishment of being opposite me.
" I do apologise, it was never my intention to offend you or to make you feel bombarded, it was quite the opposite actually, if you allow me to explain?"
" What option do I have? leave.. I'm sure you will write up a lovely piece about your first interaction with me and how rough and rudely obscene I was, just really play into the narrative".
" Not at all, never. If my presence makes you at all uncomfortable please feel free to end this conversation, I knew coming here that was one way it could end".
" Fine, then explain why the fuck you are here, why the fuck I am entertaining this bullshit".
" Ok", She took a deep breath in, she is trying to compose herself, I clearly have rattled her, or was she rattled prior to coming?
"Firstly, I have been following your story for sometime now, since it first came out really. I have read stories similar to yours and it got me thinking that there has to be more behind the person".
"More behind the person? Who, me?" I am confused.
"Well, essentially yes. I am here today because my interest is in women who are in jail and serving a first time sentence. I believe there has to be more to women like yourself than your conviction and how it was that you found yourself in the situation that landed you here".
I can hear myself trying to comprehend what it really was she wanted, is she in fact looking to be on my side and help others understand women like me, or is she playing me like every other fucker out there and just wants a good pay check from an interview.
" So what do you want from me? Everything I know about why I am here is in the court transcripts, there's nothing that you can get from me that isn't already written out for you".
" I understand, it isn't exactly just the crime that I am interested in though, I am interested in you. I am interested in how your mind works, your story and how other women may have similar paths they have walked in life like yours. It can be something we do together to potentially help young women avoid getting themselves into these situations".
This all sounds like a pile of shit to me, she sounds like a marketing ad. How can I help others to avoid this when I couldn't avoid it myself? This is some real Oprah bullshit that I frankly don't give a fuck about.
" Look lady, I'm not the innocent young woman that you think you see. What they say I did, I didn't do, but I'm still no angel or pin up mentor that you think you will be getting by sitting here with me. I have been stuck here trying to replay that day over and over and over again, and guess what? I'm no fucking closer to knowing what happened or how what they are saying I did happened. If you can help me with that, then yeah, maybe I will sit and entertain your little project, but if you can only give me what I already know, then the door is over there", I point toward the door with a smug look.
Nothing pisses me off more than these people who think they know me based off what they have read, this woman has depicted all of these people by sitting across from me trying to build rapport with me without ever asking me to meet with her today, and I owe her what?
We sat in an awkward silence, she glanced from her paper to me to the window to her paper, occasionally gave her watch a discreet glance. I sat and stared at the blank white wall and focused in on the black scuff marks scattered across the skirting boards, I can't help but to imagine the epic brawls that caused those marks during someone's dramatic visit from family.
" I'm sorry if I have offended you, I didn't mean to come here today and make you feel uncomfortable" as she begins to gather her belongings in an attempt to leave.
" Here is my card, it has my number on it, you can call or email me whenever you feel and if its ok with you, I'd love to come back and see you again soon", she stood up and walked toward the door without looking back and without waiting for my response.

I sat at the table until the guard came over and tapped me on the shoulder with the head nod and eye gesture of get up and move to the door. Back to my reality, except now I am feeling a little more lost than before. Walking back to my cell is now somewhat a comfort in times like this, how ironic. When I feel out of control in here my concrete bedroom soothes my worries, yet prior to being in this place, the thought of isolation was my biggest phobia.
I walk past cells and sometimes glance in as I stroll past and thank god some of these women aren't my bunkie, especially this one chick named chaz. Chaz looks about 70 though I swear she's only 40, the ciggies and grog really did a number on her. Every day the same time you can hear Chaz kicking off and it'll be over the tv show selection without fail. It's pretty standard in here that in the afternoon before dinner tv is playing and women are starting to wind down after they've finished shifts and waiting for their well earned meal. Chaz will demand to watch everybody loves Raymond re runs that no one wants to watch because it reminds them of what they don't have in here. The comedies aren't funny in here, the dramas are so much smaller than the dramas the women here have faced so these sitcom types just don't go down well in our block. Like clockwork, Chaz will waltz on out of her cell into the communal lounge expecting a different outcome each time, sometimes I think she's waiting for a cup of tea and fluffed pillows on a couch with her show on and we all sit back and smile happily knowing she is content.
Every damn day its the same screeching, the ear piercing screaming of Chaz being told to shut the fuck up and sit down, the battle of keeping the remote from her so she doesn't sit and scroll through the channels disrupting what was already on the tv. This same repetition day in and day out, as much as I'm so fucking glad she isn't my bunkie, sometimes I feel just as bad knowing she has some obsession with this show, some connection to the feeling it gives her, knowing she wont ever get that in here, because no one wants to watch her shit show.

Thinking of Chaz and her daily psychotic break got my mind wondering, will talking to Taylor be that connection to a feeling that Chaz gets when watching her show? Will talking to Taylor help me connect to why I'm here and feeling like my whole entire world has collapsed and will never inflate again. Could talking to Taylor potentially be a way to get me out of here? I know I didn't do what they say I did so someone has the answers right.. Taylor could just be the tool I need to help set me free.