Date: Fri, 19 Aug 2022 19:21:49 +0000
From: JordanProject@protonmail.com
Subject: Prisoner & His Cellmate Chapter 1

This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely
coincidental. It's copyrighted 2022 by The Jordan Project, all rights
reserved outside of Nifty. The reader comes first, so I welcome
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PRISONER & HIS CELLMATE – Chapter 1

The hooker was flat on her back, legs spread, knees in the air. Eddie, who
had taken off everything but his t-shirt, knelt in front of her, his short
horn stiff. At the age of 23, less than two months shy of his college
graduation, he was preparing to lose his virginity with the proceeds of a
gas station robbery that he had taken part in a few hours earlier.

A loud knock on the door interrupted him.

"Police! Open up! Now!"

Eddie rushed to put his clothes back on. Just as he buckled the belt of his
jeans, the bedroom door came ripping off of the hinges and fell to the
floor in the thundering crash.

"Hands behind your head! You're under arrest! Move and you're dead!"

The room was full of Ninja-clad SWAT team members. The whore was rushed
from the room, while Eddie's hands were plastic-cuffed behind his back. He
heard his rights being read to him, and the words, "You are under arrest
for armed robbery and murder, you fucking punk!"

Murder?! His mind reeled. All he had done was drive the car. No one had
even flashed a gun, much less told him about a murder. This was supposed to
be an inside job.

Scratch a criminal and you'll find a hard-luck story, and Eddie was no
exception. His criminal history resembled a lottery more than a career on
the wrong side of the law. In high school, two friends had roped him into
driving the getaway car in a series of convenience store stickups. They
were caught, and one confessed. They went to juvenile prison, and Eddie,
who had no record, was given a suspended sentence on two felonies.

Because the crimes had occurred so close to his eighteenth birthday, he was
required to stay out of trouble for the next ten years. Get pinched for a
violent misdemeanor or any felony, and those suspensions would be revoked
and he'd do hard time. Now, six years later, he stood accused of murder.

The night's events had started badly enough. Eddie's college girlfriend had
dropped a bomb. At some level he had expected her to break off their
engagement, but he wasn't prepared for the shock. They fought, and he
accused her of stringing him along while two-timing him. He was correct
about that, but the one truth was a deflection from some other truths that
he hadn't wanted to face.

He drove away into the night, covering miles and miles. He ended up in a
sketchy area of town, ducked into a bar, and, entirely by chance, ran into
his high school partners in crime. A few beers were drunk, and he told his
story, and soon it was old times. Before long, mesmerized by their rough
and easy confidence, Eddie once again found himself agreeing to drive the
getaway car in a heist.

They assured him they'd learned from their old mistakes. This was a sure
thing, an inside job that would be made to appear to be a robbery. Five
minutes would net him a thousand bucks. "No one drives like you do, Eddie,"
the taller one said, smiling and looking into his eyes. "You're the best."

That was an appeal Eddie had never been able to resist, and against his
better judgment he joined the plot. But the insider's boss had appeared
unexpectedly. The partners murdered him, and took care of the
insider. After Eddie dropped his friends off, they argued over the loot,
and wound up killing each other. Eddie was left as the only participant in
the robbery-murder, and found himself the target of an ambitious young
prosecutor. The end result: A sentence of 25 years to life, to be served in
the state's maximum-security penitentiary.

* * * *

"You don't belong here, but that wasn't my decision," the warden
said. "You're here now, so you need to understand exactly where you've
landed. So I am going to tell you a few things about our community of 550
inmates, 91 corrections officers, and 13 other staff.

"Your records show that you were close enough to graduation for the
university to slip you a diploma," the said. "Most of the men in here are
violent and uneducated. We think at least one-third have serious mental
problems. Most of them are bored and horny. We cannot control the flow of
drugs and other contraband. We don't have much influence over how inmates
treat each other. As a young, educated, short and slightly built inmate
with no prior experience in the prison system, your life will be at risk
from the very first hour you arrive."

The warden paused to gauge the effect of his words. He could see that they
had the desired impact on the cringing youngster seated before him. He went
on to explain that the prison had a diversion survival program for inmates
like himself. It was voluntary, and in some ways would make him even more
of a target inside, but even with the additional risk it would allow him a
month to grasp his situation and develop his own strategy to handle
himself. He would be placed in a cell with a trusted inmate, who could be
counted on to not assault him while he was there. That "trusty," and other
"trustys," would give him a sort of orientation in that first month. Some
inmates would resent his special protection, but it was a lighter price
than he'd pay if he went directly into the general population.

The other price would be an additional set of rules for his dealings with
his temporary cellmate and others in the prison. But most of the rules
would in some ways benefit him, the warden explained, and in any case would
be largely common sense. If he was interested, now was the time to say
so. Otherwise, he could enter the general population immediately like any
other inmate.

"I'll take the program," Eddie said.

"Good decision, son," the warden replied, crisply. "You will be placed with
Jack Haines. He has been here for 16 years for committing two murders. His
sentence was modified to life without parole for the murder of an inmate
shortly after he arrived. He is the lead trusty, known and respected by
everyone. On a daily basis, he has much more influence over the lives of
inmates than I do. His word is the law where you're going. Follow the rules
with him, and you will be safe. Break his rules, and you will be
transferred to general population so fast you'll break your neck looking
back at his cell. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Eddie said, nearly whispering.

"Good," the warden replied, handing the youngster a sheet of paper. "Here
are the additional rules. Breaking any of them will endanger your life."

INSIDE THE CELL

1. Call the trusty "sir."

2. Everything in the cell belongs to the trusty. Obtain his permission
before using anything in the cell, including whatever you bring with you.

3. Keep the cell and its contents clean and arranged as the trusty prefers.

4. Respect and obey the trusty at all times.

OUTSIDE THE CELL

1. Trustys (including your cellmate) are called "trusty."

2. Do not leave your work area unless accompanied by a trusty or
corrections officer.

3. Minimize contact with other inmates, except as directed by a trusty.

4. Do not offer or accept gifts or favors, no matter how small, from any
inmate other than a trusty.

5. Do not argue with, contradict, or judge anything anyone tells you.

The warden paused to let the young inmate read the paper.

"Do you have any questions?" the warden asked.

"What if the trusty tries to rape me or something, sir?" the young inmate
asked.

"That will not happen," the warden answered. "Jack Haines and the other
trustys will keep you from being raped while you are in the diversion
program. Any other questions?"

"No sir," the youngster replied, somewhat relieved.

"Since you mentioned sexual assault, I want to emphasize the need to
decline favors or gifts. The slightest gesture will put you in debt," the
warden said. "Nothing comes free. A cigarette, or an extra helping of food,
an offer to share a book or a magazine – anything at all – will be
used as a reason for a sexual demand at a later date. If you dispute even
the smallest matter with an inmate, it will be used as a justification for
violence later. This danger is especially high for you because of your
college education. If you correct another inmate for any reason, it will be
taken as a challenge."

"Yes sir," the young prisoner replied.

"I cannot emphasize what I just told you strongly enough," the warden
said. "If someone tells you two and two is seven, and the sky is green, say
nothing. Even agreement is dangerous. If someone asks your opinion, do not
give it. Never, ever settle an argument, even if the correct answer is
obvious to you. This will be a matter of life and death. If you give even
the slightest favor, you will be seen as challenging the authority of other
inmates. If you accept even the slightest favor, you will incur a debt,
most likely a sexual one. I hope I have made myself crystal clear."

"Yes sir," the prisoner replied. "You have, sir."

"Good," the warden said. "Just remember, this is a very different
place. The logic of the outside world doesn't much apply here. You will be
living with people who operate on instinct, not reason. Never forget that."

"Yes sir," the worried young inmate said.

"When you are taken to the trusty's cell, remove your shoes and sit on the
floor with your back against the wall until he gets there." the warden
said. "Keep your possessions, including your shoes, in a pile on your
lap. Do not touch a single thing, and let nothing that you are holding
touch the floor. When the trusty arrives, stay seated on the floor until he
tells you to get up."

"Yes sir," the youngster said.

"Alright, that's all," the warden said. "Good luck."

* * * *

A guard appeared at the cell door. Standing next to him was an inmate
holding a bucket and a mop. The guard inserted a key in the lock and opened
the door. The inmate strode into the cell, tall and confident, and set the
bucket onto the concrete floor hard, with a "clunk."

The guard closed the barred door with another "clunk," and said, "I'll give
you an extra hour today."

"Thanks, officer," the inmate said, glancing first toward the bucket, then
to his cot, and finally to the floor where the young prisoner sat with a
stack of things in his lap. The prisoner had removed his shoes, as he'd
been told during his intake to the prison. He had been there for more than
an hour, waiting.

"Looks like they told you at least some of the rules here," the standing
inmate said, gruffly. He was well over 6 feet tall, somewhere in his 40s,
with short black hair, a five o'clock shadow, and a scar on his
forehead. His tailored prison clothes showed off his muscles.

"Yes, sir," the young prisoner said. "They told me the rules, and gave me a
sheet of paper to remind me."

"Fine," the inmate said. "Get up, and I'll show you how you'll be keeping
my cell clean."

The young prisoner glanced around the spotless cell.

"It looks pretty clean already, sir," he said. "They said that trustys keep
their cells spotless."

"Yep, that's right," the inmate said. "It's clean because it's cleaned
every day. I've been doing it, but now you will."

"Yes, sir, I understand," the prisoner replied. "They told me it is one of
your rules."

"They put you in here because they want me to tell you how to survive. But
I'm not some fuckin' salesman, so it's up to you to ask. You can start
asking me questions day after tomorrow. Between now and then, just do what
you're told."

"Yes sir," the prisoner replied, wondering what "anything else" might mean.

* * * *

"Sir, the trusty in the library told me to ask you about the tree," Eddie
said. "He told me you'd know what that meant."

"I was wondering how long it would take until someone mentioned it to you,"
the cellmate replied, with a gruff chuckle. "They tell me the tree has made
me into some kind of national prison celebrity. I'll tell you, then.

"It starts and ends with Manhood in the joint," the older Man
said. "Everyone in here's got a dick, so Manhood's not about what hangs
between anyone's legs. The girls got dicks, the boys got dicks, the baby
rapers got dicks, the queens and the punks have got dicks, the snitches got
dicks. That don't make 'em Men. So the first thing that happens in here is
to figure out who's a Man and who isn't. It's the big fork in the road in
the joint."

The cellmate paused to let it sink in, then continued.

"Now we have the tree. There's a trunk, there's roots, there's branches,
and there's leaves. The roots suck up water and food from the dirt. The air
and the sun give the tree the power to get the food and water. The joint is
the tree where we all live. The trunk is Manhood. The water and dirt are
subjugation. The air and the sun are violence and threats. The branches are
Men, and they feed the subjugation to the leaves.

"On the outside, there are a lot more leaves than branches, but in the
joint it's more branches than leaves," the older inmate said. "So the first
thing that's gets decided in the joint is whether you are branch or leaf. A
leaf's only hope in the joint to find a strong branch to hang on. If a leaf
plays his cards right, he can easily last out his sentence. But a
disrespectful leaf will die, and so will a leaf that hangs from a weak
branch."

The Man stopped, and smiled thinly.

"Any questions?" he asked.

"Sir, the other trusty also told me to ask how the Men here known as Men,
and how those who are less than Men are known," the youngster replied. "But
from what you said, it sounds like that's decided by violence and threats."

"Well, kinda, but it's a little more complicated than that, or at least it
can be," the older inmate said. "First thing to know is there's no
secrets. Somewhere along the way, someone probably told you that your
criminal record is confidential, but that's bullshit. The warden's office
leaks like a sieve. Every warden's office in every joint leaks like a
sieve. Everyone's history is known by everyone here before he gets here.

"So a baby raper is known before he gets here. Same if someone was a punk
somewhere else. Or if they were in protective somewhere for snitching, or
for being a fag," the older inmate continued. "It's also known if someone's
in one gang or another. I was made Mafia before I got here, but I came in
at a time when they were putting false information in prison files to try
to keep people from being attacked. So I got attacked. I killed the fool,
and a couple others were found dead in here a little while later. That
ended the fake information days.

"Anyway, some people are Men before they get here. Gangs, Mafia, some
murderers. Lawyers are automatic Men unless they're fags, but even if
they're fags they're not hassled. Baby rapers, snitches, fags, and inmates
who were boys or girls or punks somewhere else are automatically not
Men. Anyone else gets watched when they get here, and the inmates
decide. Usually pretty quick, too."

"How do they decide, sir?" the youngster asked.

"It's not always about how big you are. There are little Men here, and big
punks," the Man replied. "All I can really say about it is that the
convicts decide. I've never seen that decision be wrong. The rapes and
fights about Manhood happen when someone won't accept the reality, and
thinks he's a Man when he isn't. Everything you've ever heard about
someone's Manhood being taken away in the joint is wrong. I've been here
for 16 years, and I've never seen or heard of a Man getting raped. It does
not happen."

"So you're saying that if I get raped, I wasn't a Man to begin with?" the
youngster asked.

"That's right," the trusty cellmate replied, gruffly. "It would mean that
you weren't a Man, and that you were too stupid to face up to it. A Man
would fight to the death. That has happened in here, but no Man has ever
successfully been raped that I know of."

* * * *

"Yep," the older convict replied. "There are boys in here who are the
property of Men. Just like the girls, they don't get respect as Men, but
they get treated okay if they're owned by the right Man. Lowest of the low
are kiddie rapers, but they're all in protective. You'll get to talk to all
of 'em pretty soon."

"I'm going to be introduced?" the young inmate asked.

"Yeah, that's part of this diversion thing you're in," the older prisoner
replied. "It's supposed to give you a chance to see how it all
works. Things get complicated in here, but it starts and ends with who's a
Man and who isn't. Keep that in mind."

* * * *

"Let's try this differently then," the older inmate replied. "This joint is
like a tree in a field. If you look way up top, you see a million leaves
and branches. But if you look down near the ground, you see just the trunk
sticking up, right?"

"Okay," said the young prisoner, tentatively.

"The trunk of the tree is Manhood. Everything that happens here starts
there and leads back there," the older inmate said. "No matter how
complicated it gets up top."

The young prisoner remained silent, listening.

"The trunk sucks up water and parts of the dirt. That's sex. If you're a
Man, you get sex if you want it. If you're not a Man, you give sex," the
older inmate continued. "The sun and the air, that's violence and
threats. Without them, the tree won't take up the water."

The young inmate had a mournful look on his face.

"So it boils down to rape?" he asked.

"You are here because of violence, and so is everyone else," the inmate
said. "Don't act so shocked. One way or another, you chose to come here."

"I never looked at it that way, but I suppose you're right, sir," the young
prisoner said.

"As long as you understand the tree, you can make your choices," the older
inmate said. "Manhood. Once that's clear, you go from there."

"But this is a Men's prison, sir," the young prisoner said. "Everyone here
is a Man."

"Everyone here's got a dick, but there are plenty here who aren't Men." the
older inmate replied, calmly.  "This joint couldn't exist without 'em."

"But sir, aren't they just Men who were forced into it?" the young inmate
asked.

"No Man would lay on his back, spread his legs, and allow himself to be
screwed. No Man would unzip a Man's pants, take his dick out, put it in his
mouth, and swallow what comes out. A Man would either fight to the death or
kill himself," the older inmate replied. "The ones who give it up here,
they didn't have any Manhood taken away. All this joint did was show 'em
what was already true."

"So my choice is to die in a fight, or to kill myself, or to get ... " the
young prisoner asked. His voice trailed off, unable to finished the
sentence.

"If you are a Man, no one could stop you from fighting for your Manhood,"
the older inmate said. "If you are not a Man, the sooner you face up to it,
the better it will go."

* * * *

"Sir, I was thinking about what you said about this place being a tree, and
how Manhood is the most important thing," the young prisoner said.

"Yeah, that's right," his cellmate replied.

"I've never questioned whether I was a Man or not."

"The only difference between outside and here is that no one stuck their
dick in you out there," the Man replied. "Maybe they should have. You
wouldn't be walking around without a clue like you are now."

The young prisoner took a sharp breath, and the sound echoed off the
concrete walls.

"Listen to me. I don't rape and I don't threaten," the older inmate
said. "I don't need to, and I don't want to."

"Sir, if you have sex in prison, aren't you just taking advantage of other
rapes and threats?" the young prisoner asked. "Aren't they just softening
them up for you?"

The Man snorted with contempt, but said nothing. After a while, the young
prisoner realized he was snoring.

* * * *

"Sir, I am sorry for arguing with you last night," the young inmate
said. "I didn't mean to do it. Everything is so new to me."

The young prisoner looked at the floor.

"If you want to survive, don't argue," the older inmate replied,
matter-of-factly. "Do a lot of listening, a lot of looking around, and a
lot of thinking."

"Yes sir," the young prisoner replied.

"If someone asks for your opinion, best be damned careful about your
answer," the older inmate said. "I haven't seen too many people shanked for
saying they don't know."

"Yes sir, I will try to remember that," the young inmate said.

"Now there's something else," the older inmate said. "I figure it'd be
better if I mention it right away, because I doubt it has crossed your mind
yet."

"What's that, sir?" the young inmate asked.

"Tell me what the three rules are in here," the older inmate said. "The
ones the guards gave you before they put you here."

"Everything in the cell belongs to you, and I need to ask permission to use
it," the young inmate said. "It's my job to keep the cell clean, and I have
to do what you tell me to do in here and outside the cell too."

"Right," the older prisoner said. "This is about the first rule."

"What's that, sir?" the inmate said.

"No beating off," the older prisoner said. "I know you haven't done it
yet. Hardly anyone wants to in the first few days."

"I haven't done that, sir," the young inmate said.

"Don't do it without permission, and don't even think of asking until
you've been here for a month," the older inmate said. "And even that will
be too early. I have eyes all over this joint, so don't try it anywhere
else. You don't want to know what will happen if you break that rule."

"Okay sir," the young inmate said, dejectedly.

"Not in the middle of the night either," the older inmate said. "I'm a
light sleeper. I own everything in my cell, which includes you as long as
you are bunking here."

"Yes, sir," the young prisoner said. "Can I ask you permission for
something?

"As long as it's not permission to beat off," the older inmate replied,
with a laugh.

"No sir, not that," the youngster said. "It's about my letters. Can I have
them back, please?"

"After I'm done reading them," the older inmate said. "By the way, why
didn't you ever open the one from your ex-girlfriend? It was dated more
than six months ago."

"You opened it, sir?" the young inmate asked, breathing rapidly.

The older inmate ignored the question.

"There's a picture of her and the Man she dumped you for, and a lot about
them in her letter," he said. "Unless they changed their plans, they're
married now. Some guy named Frank. Before that, she was boning a dude named
Cougar. You came from a college with a rodeo, I see. She included his
picture too. "

"Married?!" the younger inmate said, moaning. "She married Frank? Oh, man!"

"Damn right she did," the older inmate said. "She'd been screwing him
behind your back for more than a year. Got tired of waiting for you to step
up to the plate and be a Man. Can't say I'm real surprised after reading
the one from your father."

"Jesus," the young prisoner said, glumly. "Jesus Christ."

"And that cowboy dude too," the older prisoner said. "Bitch got real tired
of waiting on you."

"She said she was saving herself for when she was married," the young
prisoner said, mournfully.

"Did you know that Frank guy, or the cowboy?" the older inmate asked.

"Frank was her study partner in one of her classes, but I could tell it was
more than that, sir," the young inmate answered. "Cougar Franklin was one
of the best cowboys. She was a big rodeo fan. I saw them together once, and
wondered if something was going on."

"From the looks of those two and the looks of you, and from what your
girlfriend wrote, I'd say the joint's not all that different from outside,"
the older inmate said, chuckling. "Out there, if you're not a Man you get
two-timed. In here, you get screwed. The only difference is a sore
asshole."

"I never screwed or got screwed on the outside, sir," the young prisoner
replied.

"In here it'll be one or the other, depending," the older inmate said.
"Which brings up something else I to tell you."

"What's that, sir?"

"The argument you gave me yesterday was pretty typical," the older inmate
said. "Fella like you comes in here not knowing jack shit, and when he
hears how it is he doesn't believe it's possible. No one person can tell
him. So starting tomorrow you'll be set up with trustys and inmates who'll
tell you how it goes, each in their own way."

"Will they come here, sir?" the young inmate asked.

"Nope, they'll sit with you at lunch and dinner and talk to you," the older
inmate replied. "Don't argue. Just listen, and then think about it.
Sometime we'll talk about it all, and see where you want to go."