Chapter 44

I curled on my bed desperately trying to not put any pressure on my stitches again. This was the second time they teared . The blood loss was not as much as the first time but the pain still felt the same . People say prison can get worse, they were not wrong at all.

I thought they would go easy on me, it's pretty self-explanatory, because of the surgery I had endured but turns out they didn't. Actually they saw me as a coward who took the easier way out and got a C-section. In their books a C-section was like a cheat for birth.

They believed I should have given birth like my mother and her mother before her. I should have continued the tradition of fierce women. It really surprised me how people still think like this, in this day and age. I thought we were modern but apparently not very .

When I returned ,they lost all the respect they had for me and started treating me exactly how they wanted to from the beginning. They couldn't exactly be harsh towards me, at the time for fear of loosing the baby. Now the baby was out of the way they had their chance to torment me.

A week after I came back from the hospital I was assigned back to the farm. Apparently they were going easy on me the last time. This time I experienced what prison really was. Those assigned in the farm were given a target of how much land you had to plough by the end of the day.

The tools were as blunt as possible to make the task even harder. If you are unable to finish by end of day, you get a punishment. The punishments could range from ten whips on the back to washing the cafeteria for a whole week. The worst punishment was washing the bathrooms.

That place was nasty. I closed my eyes and forced myself to swallow the bile that always threatened to come out of my stomach. If anyone saw me puke or notice the disgust on my face ,it would put me in a worse position. So I did what I had to do to avoid showing any form of emotion.

Most days were exhausting but I survived. I needed to continue surviving until I can hold my son again.  I tried to turn on my side but I ended up groaning in agony. I was in alot of pain and it was during the night. The doctors went home already so their was no one to help me.

"Just a few more hours before the clinic is open. You can survive until then" I told myself.

At first I was given the hardest task in the farm - carrying harvest produce. I was never really good at carrying heavy stuff . My load was heavy and heavier each time I carried it to the store. The inmate supervisor's face kept switching between a grin and a smile every time I groaned or gasped from carrying the weight.

She was enjoying torturing me. I was amusing to her. They say give someone a little bit of power and you will see their true colours. I suppose she was a narcissist. Damn ass! I tried complaining to the guard on duty but I later discovered that it was another terrible move. Right next to suicidal.

Instead of actually helping me ,she sided with my supervisor and they upped my workload. That was how I popped my first stitches. Seriously what did they expect when they asked me to lift things? My clothes were filled with blood from my stomach downwards. The woman working next to me screamed bloody murder the moment I fainted.

The guard and inmate torturing me were scared for the first time. They didn't think this would happen. I seemed fine to them even though I was faking it the entire time. Each time I lifted something heavy I felt like my stomach would split into two but no one cared anywhere.

So I shut my mouth and took all the work with a brave face. I was rushed to the clinic where an older doctor redid my stitches. I was given a week off from heavy duty before I was thrown back to the deep end.

I could tell he felt pity for me but other than insisting I should be given time to rest ,he couldn't do more. When I went back to my normal duties, I was removed from carrying produce to weeding and ploughing. I tried my best to finish my target everyday.

Unfortunately most days I didn't reach my target. I ended up getting whipped every other day until my back was filled with whip marks. Three months later the situation was still the same. Every time I tried to get some sympathy I was called names.

Whore. A white man's whore. Deserter. The names were not that creative as I had hopped matter of fact. Your would think they would come up with something good. If you are going to insult someone do it properly. But what really annoyed me was the sneering. Every time I passed people I could see them rolling their eyes and whispering to each other.

I suppose they knew why I was here . Yesterday someone called me bibi ya mzungu ( wife to a white person) and not in a good way. In a disgusting, condesceding way. They started saying no wonder I couldn't work because I was raised from money. If only they knew.

They kept calling me names and they tried relentlessly to get arise out of me. But I shut my mouth and ignored everything they said. What else could I have done? I had no power here and making people hate me will not make my life any easier.

I had alot of time to serve. It wasn't all bad though. I made a few friends . People who came in for petty crimes like stealing food and vandalizing their exes cars. They made life tolerable for me and I appreciated that. My roommate turned out to be my best friend here. She brought me food and defended me almost all the time.

She was huge so most people were afraid of her. They didn't talk badly of me when she was around. She also sneaked in snacks from the kitchens. Normally the nights were the worst as they were cold and it felt even colder when on an empty stomach.

We passed time by telling each other stories of our childhoods, laughed at our dating lives and got serious with our careers. She wondered why I was not assigned in the clinic yet I had a practicing license and I had a lot of experience. I shared her thought too but at the end of the day, we did what we were asked to do.

I didn't sleep a wink and when morning came I woke her up and asked her to take me to the clinic. We found the doctor had just arrived to work. He did my stitches again but reported it to the warden this time. I pleaded with him not to but he insisted it was for my own good.

He asked me to rest on the bed, and my roommate was allowed to go back to work. A few hours later the warden came to see me. I was surprised to see her as this was the second time I have seen her during my stay here. She pulled a chair close to the bed and started interrogating me.

Her hair was different this time. It looked better and it complemented her face. She was a very observant women. She picked on all the social quees whether intentional or unintentional.

" How are you feeling?" She asked.

" Am good"

" This is the second time here"

" Yes ma'am"

" Why is that?"

" It was an accident"

" Two times? I don't believe that." She narrowed her eyes at me.

" It really is"

" Who are you trying to defend?" She asked.

" Nobody. Like I said it was an accident" I answered looking everywhere where else .

She knew I was lying but she chose not to acknowledge it by saying nothing.

" Your husband has paid alot of money to make sure you are safe here" she commented

" My husband?" I asked confused.

The last time I checked I didn't have a husband.

" Marcus. He came to see me the day after you arrived. He wanted me to assure your safety " she said.

" Marcus was here?"

" White ,dark hair ,tall ,blue eyes" she described him

That was definitely him. What would he want here? And why was he trying to help me?

" Yes that is him. He is not my husband" I hissed.

" Huh! You both could have fooled me. Anyway that is none of my business"

" Yes ma'am"

" My business is to make sure you are safe and the money keeps flowing. I cannot do that if your dead"

I nodded at her as I didn't have any appropriate response.

" Do you have a particular department you would like to be transferred to?" She asked

" Do you have a lab?" I asked

" Yes we do but it's not as modernized "

" I could work there. I was a licensed medical laboratory technologist"

" Good. You will start after a week of resting " she said and started for the door.

" Thank you ma'am "

" Don't thank me ,thank your rich husband" she said with a wink.

What was Marcus doing? He put me here and now he was helping me. It made no sense.