Chapter 4
Past
As an inmateat the state pen, there were few things you can actually look forward to on the regular. For me, one of those activities was getting out in the yard and breathing fresh air.
As a man who grew up on the outskirts of the Smoky Mountains, the outdoors was something I craved. I needed the sunlight and the humidity in the summertime. The mist in the spring and even the first bite of winter cold to make me feel alive.
I also enjoyed my rotational visits to the library and music therapy sessions. I’d check out books on writing music and recording to learn everything I could about the industry. I was also extremely lucky to meet Drew Vanguard, a local music teacher who came in once a week to provide group therapy to inmates through the study of music.
Over that first year, Drew became my mentor and friend. He taught me how to play the piano with the small electric unit he’d bring with him and fine-tuned my guitar technique. He even taught me how to pick the banjo. Music took me out of those four-walls and kept me sane.
But the most prized days were visiting days. Every other Thursday and Saturday.
London continually showed up during those first few months. During the lowest parts of my life. I was not fit for company and was bitter as fuck with her, but she never gave up on me. Until I betrayed her.
“Hendricks, you’ve got a visitor. Hurry your ass up before someone else grabs her.”
The guard rapped on my cell with a clipboard, the intent in his voice meant to rile me up with jealousy.
I’d been sitting at the small desk in the corner writing some lyrics down for a song I’d been working on. Somedays that was the only way I could come to grips with what had happened in my life. The only method of letting my feelings out to prevent me from going crazy or getting in a fight.
I pushed back the rickety stool and moved to the front of the cell. Unless you were in for aggravated or first-degree murder, we weren’t handcuffed when we went into the visitor rooms. It really didn’t matter much, since we were enclosed in a room with posted guards and there was a plexiglass, shatter-proof window between inmates and visitors.
As I stepped out of the cell into the cell block, the guard – Cosworth – made a display of sniffing in the air as I walked in front of him.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm. Smells like fine, fresh pussy out there with that visitor of yours, Hendricks. I think she might need herself some big black cock to fill her juicy sweet cunt.”
My back stiffened, and I seethed through clenched teeth, as I glanced over my shoulder to see Cosworth lewdly grabbing at his crotch. This was how it always went in here. Whether guards or prisoners, nothing was sacred, and everyone was trying to find a way to catch you off-guard to get under your skin. To expose a weakness and molest and compromise your sanity. Tear you down and then tear you apart.
I hummed the tune I’d been working on, repeating inside my head my mantra. “It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it.”
Shuffling toward the locked door to the visitor room, I pushed back all the murderous thoughts I had about Cosworth and some of the nasty comments he’d made about London and steeled my emotions as I stepped in through the door, unlocked by another guard.
What’s ironic about being locked away in prison is that not only am I locked up, but I learned fast to keep all my feelings and emotions hidden from everyone.
Especially London.
But it had gotten so fucking hard to keep doing that. Every time I saw her, I cracked a little more inside. The brick wall I’d erected chipped away piece by piece by her loving presence. It wasn’t just her appearance – all beauty and light – that did me in. It was the way she had about getting me to open up and share what was going on.
Writing about it was one thing – but sharing these atrocities of prison life with an innocent like London was unconscionable.
I had to put a stop to it. To end it once and for all so that London could move on with her life and quit torturing both of us.
The thought of doing it slayed me, but knew it was the only way.
I sat down, careful to avoid her eyes and picked up the phone on the cubby wall.
Just the sound of her voice –sweet and wispy– nearly broke my resolve.
“Hi, Sage. I’ve missed you so much.”
When I finally looked up at her, I saw my life in the graceful features of her face and the love shining in her clear blue eyes. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was mine. Always had been and always would be. Even if it meant I had to let her go.
“Hey.”
I didn’t have the confidence in my ability to say anything more, for fear I’d fall into the abyss and let all my black thoughts bubble up to the surface.
I shifted my view, turning a bored eye in the other direction, hoping she’d get the hint.
