First Time Jail

It wasn’t the smell, it was the fear that really got to me. The fear of the unknown. As I walked down the long basement corridor with the cops, I couldn’t contain my emotions, I turned to the men I had spent the last 8 hours with and admitted: I’m scared.

Both men where like most cops: “manly”, overgrown with ego and toughness, but yet still somehow human. It surprised me when the taller one, Teddy, responded.

“It’ll be fine, just mind your own bizness. It’ll be over before you know it.” he said in his strong Brooklyn accent while we continued towards the metal detectors and correction officers, CO as they’re known inside the cellblock.

I quickly passed through the security checks at the jail. I was arrested in my own apartment and searched at least a half dozen times already that day. After the cops had officially handed me to the CO, I was escorted to the last cell on the right.

I quickly found an empty spot on the cold concrete floor and sat, looking noone in the eyes and started the long wait.

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