Backtracking a couple of pages. Landing on a collage of action shots. Focusing on a lean figure framed by nothing but muscle and the basketball jersey that defined him, Charles Browne, also known as, Swift – had McKinley High at his feet. Colleges all over from Duke to Penn State to UNC clamored to recruit him. Voted most athletic by his peers, if Swift had the ability of having a school of 2,400 at his feet, he had the potential of having the world at his soles. He was that talented.
Pausing at the doorway, he entered his motel room with some reluctance. Closing the door behind him, he made sure to secure the deadbolt. The wallpaper was peeling revealing the cracked eggshell white paint underneath. The floor creaked with every step he took. The retro looking television set had ten channels but only three would show in black and white. The toilet in the bathroom barely flushed without a jiggle and a jangle of the handle.
The single room with its twin bed, nightstand, lamp, dresser, and chair was small and filthy with a musky odor to it. Not much different from the six by eight cell he became accustomed to living in for the past seven years.
Dropping a paper bag of his personal affects on the edge of the bed, he toed-off his shoes and started shedding his clothing piece by piece. Leaving a trail on his way to the bathroom.
He slid open the shower door and turned the water on. The bathroom mirror quickly built up a thin coating of condensation from the steam the hot water produced. He braced his well-toned, six foot three inch, naked frame against the sink with his hands. You could see all the stress and the tension of his life nestled deep within his muscles.
Wiping away some of the water residue from the mirror, the reflection of the man he saw looking back at him was practically a stranger. He wondered if anyone would recognize him. His clean-shaven head and full beard was completely opposite from the dread-locked, goatee wearing boy he once was.
He enters the shower and stands directly underneath it. The hum of the water drowned out the city’s symphony conducting itself outside the brick and mortar building. Lulling him back to a place he may never soon forget.
The handcuffs were removed and he immediately gripped his wrists. The leftover ink from the fingerprinting pad created black smudges where he touched. Charles was paraded around the police precinct like prized cattle because of his status. He was ordered to remove his jewelry, which consisted of two diamond-studded earrings, a stainless-steel Movado watch and a 14 carat, white gold ring with black diamonds. His wallet, which held all his credit cards, his driver’s license and $254 in cash. The keys to his truck and any other personal items he may have had on him.
The flash of light from the camera made him see tiny spots before his eyes.
“Turn to your left.” The officer’s gruff voice sounded surreal.
As a matter of fact the whole situation felt like he had been transported to some alternate reality. Soon after he was led to a room where he was commanded to strip completely down gave new meaning to the phrase, ‘ turn and cough.’ He would much rather have been in the doctor’s office doing just that. The experience was humiliating to say the least and the orange jumpsuit didn’t make things any better.
The continuous flow of water trickled down the lines of his tattooed back. Washing away the pain. The regret. The hurt. The memories. Seven long years of group showers, metal beds, a single hour of fresh air a day, and eating mush mixed with slop was hell on earth in every sense of the word.
Feeling relief for surviving such a mentally draining experience. Clenching his eyes tight, his tears streamed down blending in with the running water. He was free. He was finally free.
© Patrice Washington
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I felt for this character. Sometimes people think they can do anything and won’t get caught, whether it’s drugs or stealing. I hope that some people learn their lesson after going to prison. It has to be life altering to be essentially in a cage for years and then be released. I have heard that some people who stay in there a long time actually prefer it because it’s all they know… they literally don’t know how to function in the real world, outside of prison.
I’m eager to find out what Charles did to get locked up for 7 years!
The crime that he did time for is connected to another character who I may reveal for July’s creative writing piece.
Prison certainly changes people. I wish they would tell more realistic and descriptive stories to young ones to prevent them from getting into crime.