You Only Have To Be Sent To Prison

1066 Words 4 Pages
The Fear Takes Hold You only have to be eighteen to be sent to prison. That thought scurried through my brain as I stood in the entrance of that terrifying place. “This could be me,” I thought to myself. The door smashed shut behind me, so loud I jumped. The room was pale white and as cold as death. Stale was the air that surrounded me. I walked in and was petrified, frozen in place by the panic that tried to overtake me. I knew the moment was coming upon me. It was the moment I would look her in the eye. I faltered and I was starting to shake. I was ready to crumble as I told myself I couldn’t do it. I began to turn and retreat back to the door, when suddenly, I heard her voice. The unmistakable voice that I knew without a doubt belonged …show more content…
It’s the unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that something is dangerous, a threat, or likely to cause pain. In my case, it was all three. Prison is more than a dangerous place, it’s hostile. When I first entered the small meeting room, I cautiously glanced around as I watched the inmates in orange. I wondered what had brought them here. Was it drugs, robbery, assault or could it even be murder? Standing in that place felt like an out of body experience. I knew I would be safe, right? If that was true, then why had I become so crippled with fear? I knew I was standing there and I knew it was real. I could feel the inmate’s stares, the chill of hatred radiating off of most of them. Even though I knew that it was truly happening, I couldn’t be there. It wasn’t right. The moment almost broke me to the core of my being as I realized that prison is more than just dangerous. Prison is a whole different world. It created a new meaning to the word …show more content…
The pain was what tore me down. It gnawed away at me in my brain, forcing me to stop. I stood still, standing in front of multiple prisoners, one of them being my mother. The pain felt unbearable. “How am I going to look at her? What will I say? Will she cry? Will I cry?” Those thoughts had become jumbled in my mind. I felt physically ill. I wasn’t sure that I could actually talk to her, let alone look at her. Did I even want to see her? My head was spinning. The emotional pain was excruciating. Love was in my heart while hatred was in my mind. The feeling of pain told me that this was her fault. How I was feeling was her fault. She was the one who abandoned me to a world of hurt. My mother was the one who received my blame. She was there by then, standing a few feet in front of me. Looking directly into her eyes, I felt her pain. The anguish that was surrounding her cut at me like a blade. I knew she hadn’t meant to hurt me. I knew she didn’t leave me on purpose. It’s funny how you can think so many thoughts over the course of a few seconds. My view of her had changed as I was forced to stare at her in that ugly, orange and baggy clothing. The pain I felt was no longer my own. It was

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