Prison in prison.

Prison in prison.

   From “Women of the Quichua”.

   It’s the third day I’ve been with a prison nail the size of a 100.

   Me and my nail keep all the jailers away from me.

   With the “nail” I was sure that now NO ONE is RAPING ME IN PRISON!

   Probably, if I had a nail the size on “200”, all jailers would call me not “suicide”, and “a walking corpse” or “two-hundredth”.

   Three days ago, I committed suicide in prison by taking all the pills I had. At first I tried to cut my veins “sink”. But because of the trembling hands, the blade from the first time cut only the skin on the hand, not catching a vein – it was terribly painful, so that the second attempt I did not dare. After that, I decided to poison myself, kill myself with pills. But my body resisted my brain, my stomach turned all the contents. It was humiliating for me to hang myself: to imagine that my face would turn blue, my eyes would bulge and my corpse would defecate in convulsions, somehow did not attract my “blonde brain”.

   The pills didn’t kill me, so I figured if the jailers touched me again or raped me, I’d stick a nail in my heart between my ribs. That’s what I said every time any jailer came to my rack.

   All my things, dishes, clothes, torn several packs of sanitary pads, unwound rolls of toilet paper “Zeva” with the aroma of Apple and everything else that was thrown by the jailers on the floor during the “shmon” – the third day in a row continued to lie on the floor of the prison cell.

   I forbade my cellmate with broken ribs to touch my scattered things on the floor when the jailers forced her to “clean up the cell”.

   To make me pick up my ruined clothes, shoes and other items, none of the jailers dared. To every warden who tried to talk to me, to convince me to eat, I screamed hysterically and threatened that if they did not leave me and immediately come out of my cell – I would stick a nail in my heart. I was very convincing, my wounded soul screamed sobbing out of me.

   The week before.

   The two-month term of my solitary confinement in the “special house” under the video camera was approaching.

   Despite regular testing of the prison from the guards Vasilisa, prison life was skrashivalo courtship from pretty jailers and care of friends of the guards.

   “The road to the prison to put” turned out very rarely because of the camera. And the “road with thieves” was only through the “length”, which was also dangerous, as malyava could easily fall into the hands of jailers. A mobile phone is the camera used occasionally, on your own risk. Thanks to friends-jailers “flashlight” during the “shmon” never “flew”. 

   So I’ve been in prison for a year and three months, and it’s been almost three months since the conviction and the failure of “open up in court.” A week after the verdict, I kicked out the “brief” appeal, “deployed” needed a good moral impetus, which was not observed around.

   Suddenly, through the “long road” came the kite, which my shattered nerves – completely unsettled.

   “On you: “red Katran” – rate on sex.”- such was the text malyava.

   I read this little one a hundred times, the handwriting was my friend and there was no doubt that it was not a joke.

   Volunteer to serve in prison sex, I’m not going to, so this kite has warned that it will be done against my will.

   The fact that I can easily rape under the video camera in a single spec.hate – I was convinced of it a month ago. Then I saved not only the “prison Shiv”, but fear “performers” before the name “Grandfather”. Real name of “Grandfather” me had to voice three “activists”, when they tried to go in my cell in three hours night. (This meeting will read in “Kitsch” at the present time the category of “Kitsch” is edited).

   My thoughts on the received message interrupted the delegation of the jailers who came to do the evening rounds before going to bed. The shift of wardens who came in was one of those who sympathized with me, so I did not expect any provocations from them with “prison rates for sex.” This change recently saved me from the “wrong stage” (More about the “Wrong stage” in the “Kicha” section – temporarily edited).

   But, the next night shift I took the most vile change of jailers that I was constantly practiced in the spec.hateh, on someone’s orders. In their change also tried to come into my camera “activists” from a hut with wool. Therefore, I did not wait for the next duty “frostbitten jailers”, and decided to talk about their experiences today’s shift.

   When the major-the Deputy chief of prison heard that night “convicts-visitors” tried to get to the camera to me, he at once believed me and assured that guilty guards will be punished.

   “Frostbitten prison guards” in his night shift did not intrude. But the next evening I was visited by bypass vile Redkin and Lily’s voice said that the next day I was transferred back to the camera 195. I hadn’t forgotten his empty promises to transfer me from press room 184, and I guessed that the bastard and his colleagues had prepared another trial for me in prison.

   Before morning six-hour inspection using “Shnyrev,” I learned that I inhabit in a chamber with transittime-lesbians.

   Now I guessed what kind of “sex-Katran” was in question.

   The fact that frostbitten women activists can commit sexual rape with mops and other items, you can not only watch in American films “When tomorrow comes.” I have heard about such terrible perversions many times in this prison.

   On the morning check to me three guards came into the cell, two of whom did not hide their dislike for me: Redkin and Dobrev. Major Gusev, too, should have hated me because of my complaint against him, but outwardly he did not show it and recently tried to communicate with me politely.

   Dobrev and Redkin cultural with me talking, that’s why I guessed that the camera be turned off. So, I decided on-the-record “to encourage Guseva compassion for me”, explaining why the refuse to go to jail 195.

   “Comrade major, please don’t transfer me to cell 195. I know that there are badass transiti-activists. These Dobrev and Redkin hide from You that they me more than once occupied in female press-huts. Please Don’t transfer me to activists where I can work or be raped.”I pleaded with major Gusev.

   “What nonsense? Who told You such nonsense that in the cell 195 frostbitten activists sit? There are very decent women there now.”captain Dobrev was indignant.

   “You think I don’t know that you’re trying to put me in a lesbian cell? I shouted hysterically.

   “Let’s watch the video from prodol and find out from whom she received such a baby.”- suggested Redkin, referring to Gusev.

   “Please, comrade major, don’t transfer me to that corps. They me there constantly fulfill and tried to kill through activists. Put me in solitary, but don’t let me be torn to pieces by these two wardens.”I turned to major Gusev.

   “The punishment cell is not the place for a woman like You. There, even more humiliating than in this special.hut. I’ll pass on Your oral request to the chief immediately. Your translations at the prison engages only the head of the detention center.”major Gusev said coldly.

   After half an hour, Redkin and Dobrev were giving me about the nice sex in the cell with a lesbian, at the same time, stuffed my things in bags. Then kozlyatnik carried my things out of spec.the camera, as Dobrev and Redkin hands dragged me in continued in a nearby building.

   All the way to camera 195 I yelled out loud: “I’m not going to the camera to lesbians!»

   The jailers guessed why I was yelling it at the whole prison, “the right prisoners” would have to pass on my message to friends.

   Redkin me by force pushed into the chamber 195, as once pushed to the murderers in the chamber 184. The three cellmates looked at me in surprise and mystery. I went to the open window and yelled at the whole prison.:

   “Brother, tell grandpa I’m special.the huts were transferred to 195. There are three other women.»

   The inmates were sagging jaw, none of them saw me coming “of zinc on the whole prison”.

   These women were transits, two were on their way to the first-pass zone, and the third to the prison hospital.

   The patient tried to hide that she was ill with an open form of tuberculosis, but tuberculosis cough spoke all for her. Young tranzitka prohodka no secret that HIV-infection. The third claimed to be healthy, but for some reason had a friendship with the warden Vasilisa. When Vasilisa called this tranzitka to the pocket of the armor, I heard the scraps of phrases cellmate: “Nothing will come of it, she was Trincomalee throughout the jail, our data is already accurate shot.»

   Two primroses were taken to the stage the next day. The tubercular woman was taken out on the third day. None of these transiton I have a conflict does not arise. Remained only fear, that could “a SIP of tubes.stick.» Every day I washed out the room of cell 195 several times a day with the help of “Whiteness” and “Domestos”.

   After leaving the transit, I only have two days after the transfer from spec.the hut stayed alone camera 195. Then two of them sat down with me. They were an elderly Armenian and a young drug addict.

   Having learned that neither I nor the Armenian do not smoke and we do not have cigarettes for the drug addict “to borrow” (we had, but only for personal needs), an hour after the transfer, the drug addict began to ask the jailers to transfer her from the “non-Smoking cell”.

   However, what was my surprise when longitudinal through a pocket handed to this addict a pack of expensive cigarettes. I could only guess for what purpose has brought the addict.

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