memoir

Posted by admin on November 26, 2017 in Articles

Jody Collins
Roberts- Comp1
30 April 2015
As my eyes opened I could hear the humming of the florescent lights. I could feel the orange scrubs that had been washed over and over again leaving them rough as canvas and rubbing on my bare skin, my face suctioned to plastic mat, as I lay on the floor packed in so tightly almost having to breathe in unison with women I’ve never met. The smell of jail is a bleak dingy aroma mixed with a hint of plastic and cheap cleaning supplies. While shaking, freezing, and sweating, I wonder what time it is; no windows, and the thick cemented cold walls make it difficult to know if the sun is up or if it dark. Listening to chains and hand cuffs in the distance, while whispering to myself that it must be close to 9 a.m. Silently hoping and praying I am on the docket for court to learn my fate. As I lay there saying to myself, “Jody you can’t sit here and feel sorry for yourself because you knew what was going to happen when you took that path.” Suddenly, I can hear the jingle of keys grow louder which mean the guards are coming closer to my cell, and then my heart starts racing and pumping; hoping and praying the officer is coming for me so I can go to court, just then I heard them stop and insert the key followed by the loud clank and clunk of the steel door opening. God heard my prayers, as the door opened they said my name.
Now, I receive my shackles and handcuffs to walk down the long underground tunnel; as the officer is yelling at the new offenders to hurry up, he jokingly told me to slow down. He has seen me several times, and in a strange way I felt I earned his demeanor with me. My prayers changed to God on this long walk. With hopes of seeing my mom at my bond hearing, I knew if she was there then I would be out of this hell soon. I see her as I walk into the court room with my head bowed in shame. I could smell freedom and see the sun shining through the court room windows. My eyes tear up but there is no crying in…