Tortured Teardrops

by P. D. Workman

  “Hey, it’s Frenchie,” said a teasing voice. She sounded far away, slightly muted. Tamara grabbed the soap and started to lather up. She was careful not to show any concern over the attention. She needed to just focus on the job at hand and get in and out quickly. But as she moved, she turned and glanced around to see who had spoken to her. It was Tabby. Tabitha Smith. TMJ, not a Shark, so maybe she would be inclined to be friendly toward Tamara. Tamara had, after all, gotten half a dozen Sharks thrown into isolation, which was good for TMJ.

  “Frenchie, oh Frenchie…” Tabby crooned, trying to get Tamara’s attention.

  Tamara pushed her face under the freezing stream of water. Despite the shock of the water, she still felt removed from herself. The fog didn’t entirely lift.

  She quickly rinsed off the suds and shut off the water. She grabbed a thin, dingy towel and wrapped it around her body without drying off first. Her hair dripped down her back.

  “Where ya goin’, Frenchie?”

  Tabby was moving across the room toward Tamara. Tamara flashed a glance around the room, looking for any potential weapons. It was bare of anything but soap, towels, and fresh uniforms.

  “Stay away from me,” Tamara warned.

  Tabby laughed. A guileless, childish voice. She might be able to fool people on the outside into thinking she was a simpering, harmless halfwit, but Tamara and the other girls at juvie knew better. Tabitha sounded like a sweet little girl, but she was a tough gang chick with a cruel streak and her skill with a blade of any kind was legendary.

  Dumas, one of the few female guards, was on shower duty. She always got roped into it, since, if possible, the girls were supposed to be guarded by a woman when in such a vulnerable position. It didn’t take long to lose all modesty in juvie, and Tamara didn’t really care whether they were guarded by a woman or a man. She would have preferred Kirk in there. He was a better guard and didn’t get flustered easily. Or Zobel. She hadn’t seen him since her return to juvie. It was a few seconds before Tamara remembered he’d been injured during the prison break. Had he been killed? Or was he just recovering from his injuries or taking a vacation?

  “No talking in the showers,” Dumas warned.

  A useless rule. No one needed to talk or make verbal threats in order to start a fight or abuse another inmate.

  Tabby was still walking toward Tamara, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “I said stay away from me,” Tamara repeated, raising her voice.

  Dumas could have no doubt that there was trouble brewing. If she didn’t act, it was because she wanted to see Tabby and Tamara mix it up.

  Tabby slowed and took a glance toward the guard, measuring her chances. Dumas’s attention was on them, no longer bored and casual in her supervision.

  “Tabitha, get showered. French, get dressed and move on.”

  Tamara wasn’t about to turn her back on Tabby to pull a fresh uniform and whites from the neatly labelled shelves. Tabitha kept up her saunter in Tamara’s direction, as if she too were only concerned about getting a uniform to change into after her shower. Tamara planted her feet and balanced herself, ready for a fight.

  “French, get your clothes,” Dumas ordered, taking a step toward them. Her voice was getting higher, which meant she was nervous. Tamara wanted a guard who was calm and in control, not one who was going to panic.

  “Keep her away from me,” she countered, nodding toward Tabby.

  “What am I doing?” Tabby protested in a voice that was all innocence.

  “I want you both to stay away from each other,” Dumas warned, starting to walk toward them.

  “There’s no reason I can’t say hello to a friend,” Tabby protested.

  “You know the rules. There’s no talking in the showers.” Dumas’s hand hovered over the panic button on her uniform, waiting for Tabby’s next move.

  Tabby stared at Tamara, eyes hard and cold as ice. Nothing like the sweet girl persona she was affecting. She dropped her voice to a near-whisper that Dumas wouldn’t be able to make out.

  “You got involved in a fight that wasn’t yours,” she told Tamara. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

  Tamara stared at her, baffled. Then it started to come back to her. It was Tabby who had stabbed Zobel during the rumble that preceded the prison break. Tamara had prevented Tabby’s initial attack on Zobel as he was trying to get another fallen guard out of the way. Tamara hadn’t been able to stop the second attack, and that was when Zobel had gone down, spouting blood like a geyser.

  Instead of feeling anxious about Tabby, Tamara was angry. Tabitha had had no business attacking a guard in the middle of a gang fight. She was supposed to be fighting Sharks, not guards. Not the people who were there to protect them and keep the peace. That was against the unwritten rules for a gang fight in juvie, unless Tabby had something personal against Zobel, which Tamara didn’t think she did. Zobel was a good guard, not one that took advantage of the inmates or was a bully.

  Tamara shoved Tabby away from her, into the metal siding of the nearest shower stall.

  “Stay away from me!”

  Dumas hit her panic button and an alarm sounded. Tabby’s face flushed red, but she had no opportunity to hit back. Dumas had jumped between them and was keeping the two of them apart, baton out and her other weapons within easy reach.

  “Cool it, you two. Both of you take three steps back.”

  Tamara didn’t move. Tabby couldn’t; she already had her back against the wall. She had her teeth clenched and if her eyes were lasers she would have vaporized both Tamara and Dumas.

  “She shoved me! She put her hands on me, I didn’t do a thing.”

  “Just shut up. You were both in violation. French, I said to get back!”

  “I need my uniform. I gotta get my clothes.”

  “Do what you’re told, now!” Dumas’s voice rose in a scream.

  Tamara wanted to punch her right in the nose. Dumas’s panicky voice got under Tamara’s skin like fingernails on a blackboard.

  Dumas could see Tamara’s defiance and poked the baton at her, driving her back. “Back up like I told you!”

  “Don’t touch me. I didn’t do anything. Just protected myself. Tabby started it.”

  “I don’t care who started it. You’re both in violation. Both of you. Back up.”

  Tamara still resisted, pushing back against the pressure of the baton. Dumas pulled the baton back and Tamara thought for a split second that she had seen reason and was withdrawing. But Dumas whipped the baton back with a crack against Tamara’s arm. Tamara yelped and grabbed her arm. She instinctively took a few steps back from Dumas. She pulled her hand back from her arm to look at it. A scarlet stripe stood out along the skin, and it wasn’t just a surface bruise, either. She could feel it right down to the bone.

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “You listen to the security staff, or you’re going to get hurt,” Dumas yelled back, still a hysterical undertone in her voice.

  The door crashed open and a couple of the other guards hurried in. They slowed when they saw that there was no fight in progress.

  “What’s going on?”

  “These two can both go straight back to their rooms!”

  Tabitha affected a pout as one of them grabbed her by the arm to escort her back to her cell. Gomez looked at Tamara, then back at Dumas.

  “Take her back to her cell,” Dumas repeated.

  “I need my clothes,” Tamara growled, impatient with Dumas for being so dense. She wasn’t parading back through the unit in a towel.

  “Uniforms are right there. Grab one.”

  Tamara had been undressing and dressing in front of guards and other inmates for three years. She should have known she wasn’t going to get even a semblance of privacy after having an altercation in the showers.

  Still seething, Tamara looked over the labeled shelves and pulled out a small uniform and whites. She did her best to pull them partway on before divesting of the towel to fini
sh clothing herself. Gomez stopped her to look at the welt on her arm. Tamara glared at Dumas. “She did that.”

  Gomez shook his head. “I’d recommend being cooperative, then. You going to cause me any trouble?”

  “I wasn’t causing any trouble. It was Tabby. She was the one who was talking and threatening, came over here to give me hassle. How come I get punished for Tabby breaking the rules?”

  Dumas opened her mouth to defend her actions, but Gomez motioned her to silence. “You don’t get punished for Tabby’s behavior. You got punished for yours. You listen to what you’re told and you won’t end up black and blue.”

  Tamara pushed her arms through the sleeves of her uniform and buttoned it up, scowling. She hadn’t properly toweled off, and her hair was already soaking into her fresh uniform. It would end up being clammy and cold half the day. And she was going to have to be back in her cell again. Forget any chance at fresh air when they were finally allowed out to the yard.

  Gomez took her by the right arm, the opposite side from the bruise, and escorted her out of the showers.

  “She didn’t need to hit me,” Tamara maintained.

  “I’m not second-guessing a coworker. I’ve seen for myself how you’ve been lately. If you want to get your old privileges back and be trusted, you need to shape up. Lose the attitude that we owe you something, be respectful, follow the rules. You want to act like a wild animal, you’re going to be treated like one.”

  Tamara slowed and resisted his grip as they went down the hall toward her cell. “I don’t want to be shut in again,” she protested. “I was locked down most of yesterday. You’re going to have to write it up if you isolate me again today.”

  She knew the security staff hated all of the paperwork that was associated with reporting to Dr. Sutherland every time an inmate was put in isolation, and the constant reporting back to ensure that no one was left segregated long enough to cause psychological damage. The guards could get away with not filing paperwork the first day if the inmate were in her own room instead of the isolation unit, but a second day in her cell would require a formal report to Dr. Sutherland.

  Gomez scowled.

  “I don’t want to be locked up again,” Tamara repeated. “I’m jumping out of my skin. I need to get out.”

  “Dumas said put you in your room.”

  “She didn’t say to lock it.”

  Gomez looked sideways at her. “I don’t need to be told that.”

  “I wanna see Sutherland.”

  He sighed. “Seriously, French? You know the drill. You keep getting in trouble, you get to go to your room to think about it and cool off. If you don’t want to have to chill in your room, then you quit getting into fights and behave yourself.”

  “It wasn’t me, it was Tabby. She’s got it in for me because I tried to stop her stabbing Zobel. I didn’t start anything, all I did was defend myself.”

  Gomez stopped walking. He stared at Tamara, eyes intense. “What did you say?”

  “She’s got it in for me.” Tamara stopped there, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Had she blabbed too much? She didn’t think she was saying anything they didn’t already know. But Gomez’s eyes made her second-guess herself.

  “After that. About her stabbing Zobel.”

  Tamara shifted. She rubbed her sweaty hands together and glanced around the hall. There were girls starting to come out of their cells, headed to showers or breakfast. Most of them still bleary-eyed and grumpy, not ready to have a conversation or take note of what was going on with Tamara and Gomez.

  Tamara shrugged and didn’t answer.

  “It was Tabitha Smith who stabbed Zobel?”

  Tamara wanted to ask about Zobel. About whether he had survived and, if he had, how he was doing. Was he dead? Still healing? Reassigned to another position or looking for another job?

  “French.” Gomez’s hand closed around Tamara’s arm. The left one this time, right on top of the baton bruise. Tamara flinched and tried to pull away. He took no notice of the pain he was causing her and pressed her back against the wall of the corridor. “It wasn’t caught on camera and everyone claimed they didn’t know who did it. But you…”

  She had never been questioned because she had been taken hostage during the prison break. They had asked her about the prison break and about what had happened while she was out, but the police hadn’t asked her about the gang fight that preceded the prison break, or who it was that had stabbed Zobel. Tamara had almost convinced herself that it never happened.

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “Don’t feed me that line now. You just said it was Tabby.”

  “You misheard. I stopped her from hurting Zobel. That’s why she’s targeting me.”

  “Zobel was stabbed. You didn’t stop anything.”

  “There was… it happened more than once. I stopped Tabby the first time, when Zobel was rescuing one of the other guards. That young guy, who just ran right into the fight. I forget his name.”

  Gomez didn’t supply it.

  “And then something happened, and… he got stabbed. I couldn’t stop it the second time.”

  “Then you saw who did it. Who was it?”

  “No, I didn’t see. I just saw that he was hurt and tried to stop the bleeding.”

  “You were right there. They should have questioned you. They should have followed up. Tabby.”

  “Everybody thinks she’s this sweet little girl…”

  Gomez gave a snort. “Nobody believes her sweet innocent little girl act. You think we’re that stupid?”

  Tamara tried to find her way to her goal. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be able to leave her room and to get out to the yard during free time. Not sleep the day away again or pace the whole time.

  “I’m no snitch. All I know is she was harassing me today. So why am I getting locked up?”

  “That’s the way it works. I wasn’t there. Dumas saw what was going on. And Dumas said you both were to go back to your cells. So that’s what we do.”

  “I was locked up yesterday,” Tamara insisted. “You can’t lock me again today.”

  “All I have to do is file the paperwork.”

  “If I’m asking for Sutherland, you have to tell him.”

  “I will tell him. I’ll also tell him that you’re only asking for him to get out of an appropriate consequence. And that your safety is in question because you know something about another inmate and they might retaliate and you were in a fight already.”

  Inmate safety was one of the few exceptions to the isolation rules. If an inmate had to be segregated for her own safety, it was different from just doing it to punish her. They might even talk about transferring her to another facility, and Tamara was not eager to get transferred. With Glock upstate and Vernon in the women’s prison, there weren’t a lot of places where Tamara would not be known. Even if there were somewhere she didn’t have a direct acquaintance, the inmates and staff would still know who she was through the media. Her name and face had been on too many news reports.

  “It wasn’t Tabby,” Tamara insisted. “I didn’t see who it was. It was chaos in there. You saw. You came into the middle of it. I couldn’t see what happened. I just saw Zobel was hurt and I tried to help him.”

  Gomez let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, French. We could always rely on you before. What’s changed?”

  “Maybe before, I thought if I did all the things I was supposed to do, it would all work out in the end. Just like everyone kept telling me. But you know what?”

  She waited for his answer, her question dangling. He avoided her eyes. He knew that it didn’t work that way. Even if that was what they always told the inmates. They said that inmates obeying the rules and doing what they were told would get them what they wanted, freedom and their own lives back. But inside, they knew very well that it wasn’t true. Most of the inmates in juvie would never get those lives. Those normal lives on the outside, working honest jo
bs and raising families and not being dragged down into the mire over and over by poverty, old gang associations, and addiction.

  Without a word, Gomez started to escort Tamara down to her room. He didn’t try to answer her question or to justify himself. If he lied to her, she would know it, and if he told the truth, he had to tell her she was doomed to spend most of the rest of her life doing time in one facility or another, between short stretches on the outside.

  But Tamara knew the truth. Things wouldn’t go in her favor just because she tried to follow the rules and do the right thing. Things would only go in her favor if she made them. She had to look out for herself and her own interests and stop expecting everyone else to do right by her.

  Because no one was going to act for her but herself.

  Gomez stopped at Tamara’s cell. They both stood there for a moment, looking in through the open door. Gomez motioned Tamara in. She reluctantly walked back into the small, claustrophobic room.

  “I want Sutherland,” she reiterated. “I gotta talk to him.”

  “I heard you.”

  Gomez swung the door shut.

  Tamara renewed her restless pacing.

  3

  KIRK BROUGHT TAMARA her breakfast. Tamara looked at the tray of greasy, unappetizing reconstituted foods. Her stomach turned. She gagged just looking at it. There was no way she was going to be able to get it down. Maybe the piece of toast.

  Maybe.

  “I want Sutherland,” she told Kirk, just as she’d told Gomez.

  “It’s already on your sheet. You’ll get a session with him today.”

  “When? I can’t stand being cooped up here anymore!”

  “When he gets to you. You’re not the only one in this facility who needs help.”

  “How many of the rest are being segregated? I should get first crack, before the sessions that are just routine.”

  “It’s up to Sutherland to schedule his appointments, not me. I don’t have any say over it.”