idisagreecompletely

  She heard the cell door clang open. She kept her eyes closed and waited. They were either bringing someone in to make her stay with Clarice even more cramped, or she was leaving. Either way, she lay there quietly and waited. Her face was still swollen and sore. It hurt to open her eyes and one of her molars was hurting. She hadn’t eaten much in the 2 days she had been incarcerated, but she didn’t care. She was still nauseous from the withdrawal from meth. She was underweight but losing another pound or two or three didn’t concern her. There was always a market for skinny meth-heads. There was a market for anyone or anything.

She had seen men pay for fat women, skinny women, old women, young women and underage boys and girls. No matter who you were, there was always someone willing to buy you. She had seen children as young as 5 bought and sold. It wasn’t something that most people would see, but it was done on a daily basis. People, who wanted to buy other people, always had the contacts and money. There was always plenty of cash to buy another. It’s what made the world go round. Supply and demand and those that didn’t participate, sure as hell didn’t want to know about it.

That’s how they got away with it. Keep it secret, and keep paying the money. People will protest and be outraged as long as they didn’t know too much.

But today they were coming for her. She heard the guard call her name. She opened her eyes and rolled over. Every muscle hurt to move but she refused to wince or cry out. She pushed herself up. Clarice was lying on her bunk and reading. She looked up at Jane and went back to reading. No love lost there.

“Here are your clothes,” the guard said. “Get changed fast and come with me,” she said as she tossed her clothes to her. Jane grabbed them in mid-air and tossed them on her bunk. She quickly took off her jumpsuit and left it on the floor. She put her clothes on while the guard watched. Jane was used to being stared at. It didn’t bother her any longer.

When she was a child, her first foster Dad would stare at her. He took the locks off the bathroom door so he could “accidentally” walk in on her. Jane would never forget him or his name.