The Cut: A Prison Story

This was my second time reporting to the warden. The first time I was summoned into his office was right after I got here. I was gang raped. It was a customary interview. Not because anybody gave a shit, but just for them to say they took note of the incident for their records.

“You want to get a work release job?” The warden asked. His voice low like a stern teacher with his eyes locked in with mine.

The warden was about 6’4”, and although he wore a uniform his muscular build could still be made out like my studly ex-Marine PE coach in his business casual attire. He was dark complected with a thick moustache. His face was unusually hard, no doubt from years dealing in the system, but still handsome, nonetheless.

I tried to stay focused, but in my mind, I just thought about how hard the warden was. He was what us brothas called brick hard, not in dick terms, but in man terms. The kind of dude that was sure to tear a piece of shit into shreds!

“Work release is granted only to inmates who keep their noses clean.” The deepness of his hard voice broke the silence.

The warden always broke each phrase with a noticeable silence. During which he would size up the impact of his words. No doubt comparing the reaction from the inmates to his reactions of inmates in the past.

“Sir, I have not been in any trouble. I’ll be up for release in about two months.”

“Yes, Mr. Johnson, I know that. Most of the guys I grant work release to have families to support.” Again, the pause.

I knew better than to try to persuade the warden, so I chilled.

“How does it feel to be fucked by another man, Mr. Johnson?” My mouth flung open. I was speechless. How the fuck do you go from me asking about work release to me getting fucked? Why the fuck would you ask me that?

My eyebrows furrowed. I struggled to contain the anger boiling in me, but before I could say anything. “Antonio Johnson, I’m not ask you this as a warden of a prison, but just a brotha.”

“Sir,” I said. “That’s not something I can explain. I mean, the first time I was raped, it hurt like hell. Eight guys at once?! After that, it’s part of the beast, seeing that I’m not a part of a set [gang] or anything. After that it’s not all that bad.”

Shit! I didn’t want him to know I was being fucked on a regular basis.

“Guys in the work release program don’t have the restrictions like those in the PODs, as you may already know. They aren’t closely monitored. Do you feel the situation that occurred when you were first incarcerated would happen again? If so, how would you handle it?”

This time I interjected into his pause. “Sir, as a brotha, you know I want to get the hell up out of this joint. I’m not a faggot, but I do get fucked. I can’t change that! Especially if niggas take my shit!”

The warden looked at me. His eyes let me know just what he thought of me. He had no respect for me, a brotha that had his manhood taken.

He licked his lips. “Mr. Johnson, the reality of the situation is that more than likely you will be raped again once transferred into the work release section. I don’t know how wise it would be to introduce that kind of disruption to that program.”

My heart sank.

Deep inside, I wanted to be in work release so badly.

I guess the sudden disappointment and the anguish of the past year hit me all at once.

I fought back tears. My voice broke. I asked again for the warden to please grant me work release.

The warden’s face was harder than ever. All his years in the system compounded into one moment. He didn’t care.

“You dick-sucking faggot!” The warden spat with steel grating in his voice. “If I wasn’t the warden, I would beat the shit out of your punk ass. Now get the fuck out of my office. You better hope I never have to see your sorry ass again!”

If you weren’t the warden, you’d probably get G’d like crazy. I hope they get your ass on whatever! No protective custody or anything. Just straight POD life!

I left the office with tears in my eyes.

“Look at the faggot. The warden wouldn’t let you suck his dick,” some guy said.

Another motherfucker laughed. “No, the warden did, and those are jest tears of cocksucker’s joy.”

Niggas was laughing all around me. Some tried to pinch my ass as I swatted dirty hands and I made my way back to my cell.

I laid down trying to pull myself together.

This place had turned me into a fag, I thought. I used to get hard for pussy. Now my ass was called a phat rabbit, and I was getting hot for dick at every turn. I took so many loads that I thought nothing of it anymore. I was better with dicks than I was faces, types of poundings than I was with personalities.

“Why you trippin’ off that shit, bruh?”

I couldn’t believe it. I turned knowing the voice, but I couldn’t believe it was him. He was supposed to be gone, never to return.

I felt his hand on my back, a strong hand. I knew it was real because no one ever touched me the way Dirk did.

I sat. He took me into his strong arms.

I was crying like a fucking bitch. I couldn’t help it.

Dirk was squeezing me and telling me simmer down.

I began to babble like a child about what happened, what had been said, and Dirk just rocked me. Squeezed the pain away.

I had changed.

I realized nobody in this world really gave a shit about me. I was just another nigga caught up in the system.

“Dirk, yo. You up for another game of spades?” I asked after the thought crossed my mind.

“Nah, G. My mind is on some brown eye.” We both laughed.

In The Cut, phat rabbit, brown eye, etc., was all boy pussy.

“Yo, I roll with you like a brother, man. I can’t see us like that.”

“Nigga, you act like I want to marry you ‘n shit. I just want to get my dick wet.” Dirk said indignant.

I looked at his handsome face.

I did see his print one time when he woke up and his dick was brick. And it was kind of thick come to think of it.

“Yo, I ain’t trying to get fucked no more.” My head said, but my dick stirred in my pants just thinking about his lips on mine and the heat of his mouth wafting over my nipples.

I smiled at Dirk.

Dirk wasn’t the smartest guy in the world. He would beat an ass, if crossed, however.

That’s why he got put in the hole before and wasn’t supposed to come back. But the warden dragged his feet and decided the other nigga had cause shit to go down.

Dirk had on gray sweatpants and no shirt. His big chest was smooth. His body cut from hitting the iron almost every day. I felt my chest catch a little thinking about his weight pressing me down into my cot. “Dirk, for real, yo, I could break you off a piece, but a nigga like you. And if you get my feelings in it and then let a brotha down, your ass is dead, aiight.”

“Aiight nigga,” Dirk said tugging on his dick. “Yo, I haven’t busted one in two months. My shit is like leaking-leaking thinking about breaking off in dat ass. Come sit beside me, yo,” he said.

“Let’s wait a minute. Lights out is about to come up.”

“Aiight,” he said, but I could see the sex in his eyes.

“Lights out,” the CO barked.