This is the first chance I've gotten to write everything down since I was thrown in here.
I'm in prison.
I thought this was supposed to be a research study, but everything is too real. The cops think I was part of an armed burglary. No matter what I said, they wouldn't listen. They just handcuffed me and put a paper bag over my head. And then I was here.
It makes me miss the paper bag.
The second I got here, they strip-searched me and a whole bunch of other guys.
They all looked just as confused as me, so I guess that's a comfort. Then they put us in these smocks, there isn't even any underwear. I'm wearing a god-damned dress. Even worse, there's a number on it that has become my new name. Everyone here knows me as prisoner 1256. It's easier this way, for them and maybe even me. If we are just numbers we have no feelings and thus cannot feel pain. It acts as a buffer, or has thus far. I surely hope it will continue to do so, for I don't know if I could handle any more than this. And to think it's only been a day.
-- 1256
Day 1
Day 3
It's only the third day.
It's only the third day and I don't think I can take much more of this.
The guards are playing favorites now, and everyone is more divided than ever. They have a cell with a bed and warmth, and those favorites are hated. I hate them. I hate the guards. But mostly, I hate myself for not being a favorite.
And I hate that I am alone and weak and unable to protect myself in here. All there is, is waiting and keeping a low profile. Hope that somebody doesn't decide they need a punching bag.
I spent the night naked with 7 other men. I don't know how I'll be able to look anyone in the eyes again.
Perhaps worse, they've taken our food now too. They made us sit there while these "favorites" ate, and they took their sweet time, savoring every bite, while the rest of us began to lose all sense of reasoning, thinking only of ways to get our next meal.
Later on in the day they switched it up. I guess they didn't want the favorites to get too comfortable. I got some food and was given back my smock, but it's hard not to feel guilty for those who stayed in those cells. Who stayed naked and vulnerable.
It's ironic, all the prisoners hate each other now, while the guards are buddy-buddy. All because of the prisoners. It's almost funny. Almost.
-- 1256
​
Day 2
It's been a long day.
During the night we were awakened and counted by the guards, our numbers; our names drilled into us. Though it's only been a couple days, I can feel my hope and my personality fading away. Before coming here I was so full of life, and now I'm a mere shadow of that. Besides the mental abuse, we have been forced into physical fatigue with lack of sleep and drills.
After the drills and wake-up, many of us tried a sort of rebellion. To say the least, it did not end well for us.
They hosed us down with fire extinguishers, and then they took the clothes off our backs. They even removed the beds.
They took everything in one fell swoop of rage; almost as if we weren't even human. As if we weren't people who deserved some level of respect.
The ones who organized it were sent to solitary and were not allowed food for some time.
I think this has taught me that no matter the benefits of solidarity with the prisoners, the guards have all the power.
They have it all and we have none.
And perhaps, we are guilty and deserve none.
-- 1256
​
Day 4
I had a rough night.
I was allowed to stay in the good cell but no matter how hard I tried I wasn't able to down out the noises. They were sobbing, wailing, begging to be let out. The guards just laughed and told them to "shut the fuck up."
But despite being berated by the guards they kept crying and begging, almost as if they couldn't help themselves. I think at some point I may have started too.
I broke.
In the morning they came and got me. I sat with a few men who asked me questions about my mood and state of mind. I think I might have answered them, but I don't even know if I ever really left that cell. Those voices are still haunting me.
Whatever I said must have made them feel something. They released me and even drove me home.
But I can still hear their cries.
--1256