Has it been hours? Days?

Has it been hours? Days?

You remember being wrestled to the ground by the guards, their boots in your back, holding you down as you kicked and screamed, writing, trying to escape their grip…

… Then you felt your pants yanked down, a cold feeling, a sharp prick and a stinging feeling in your muscle…

You kick and writhe more, cursing out the guards, “you’ll pay for this, you fucking pigs!”.. but they just laughed, keeping you held down.

The more you fought, the weaker you started to feel.

The last thing you remember is the head guard: *“no, convict, *it’s you that’s going to pay…”

And then you came to, unable to see, head wrapped in a canvas hood, arms securely fastened in a straight jacket, secured to the restraint bed in an isolation room… You’ve seen this happen to other inmates… But didn’t think it could ever happen to you.

The worse part is the sinking feeling as you remember this is only the beginning of your “therapy”.

Fuck, why’d I lash out against that guard….