|
123
My wrist band was blue and white. It had an "M" on it, meaning I was relegated to the jail's Mental Health ward. The ones with red and white bands were in there for 187s -- murder.
My friend -- if you can call a few hours of friendship as creating a friend -- Derrick was wearing a red and white band -- he was cool and untouchable. Big as a fucking fridge --- no one messed with him.
Our jail ID numbers were seven digits long, but we only had to know the last three, as those were the ones they called out. Mine was "123."
When they called out, "Holstad 123, gather your belongings and come stand at the gate," I almost felt sad. My identity was being stripped and I was being asked to go "out there" again, kind of like how I felt when I left Cedars earlier in the year. This time when I left, I didn't cry and I didn't look back.
|
|