America: Land of the "Free"

Chapter 1: One Day

His name is Randall Slaytor. The man who caught me that night. The man who still torments me today. My stepsister had denied her faith in fear of being taken. My mom and stepdad were athiests so they were left alone. I feared one day meeting my grandmother, father, older brother, and two younger sisters here. In the camps. My half blood siblings were all Christian. My father and his mother raised them that way. My only full blooded sister and I were also Christian, living in an athiest household. I don't know how they found out. But then again, the government does intrude on everything about your life. Your emails, your texts, your calls. Personal life stories and personal confessions that they tapped into. And what for? I don't know but I felt violated enough growing up. I didn't need everything I said to be recorded as well.

0600 hours. Shower time. I stand and yawn then wake my cellmates. One is already up. He rose with the sun as did I.

"Get up, Randall will be mad if you're not up when he comes."

"You will address me as warden, Christian." I glance back over my shoulder. My knife is in the belt loop of his uniform khakis just like always. I dash. He catches my hand and throws me to the ground. He's on my back with my knife to my throat. "Do you really want to place this game again?"

"Why are you even the warden?"

"Why?"

"Yes, you're only like 5"8 and 180lbs."

"I'm skilled."

"You're my age."

"Which is even more of a qualifier, 666." I cringe at my prison number. My cellmates shake in terror except one. I never begrudged them for not standing up for me. You can't help stupid people. That's who I was. I was stupidly daring. I taught them to stay alive by not helping anyone else like me. I taught them to help only who they could without letting themselves falter. Randall picks me up by my arm. I'm grateful. Most soldiers did it by your hair. He shoves me with his gun. My cellmates quickly file out and join me in the long lines. We all await our cold showers with eagerness and despair. It was a humiliating experience to be naked and shivering in front of everyone, slandered by the officers, but it was nice to be clean. Aiden, Jiselle, Mateja, and Sairvien all keep close to me. To stay together is to stay alive. Mateja and Jiselle are 11 year old, identical, Indian twins, it was hard for them to get rations. The chefs sometimes thought one was sneaking back into line for double. They were mischevious when they weren't frightened. Aiden is nine years old. He is American like me, only I am more Native, and devout in his faith, all his siblings had denied their faith. The eldest of my cellmates is Servien. He is a light skinned Persian. He rarely speaks so we communicate in American Sign Language. Officers hate him. He is well respected and did not take unfair beatings, he is protective and bold.

We make it to the two walls set up for clothes removal. A cold draft dances on my skin. Some dust is blown around, wind speed is about 6-8 miles per hour.

Great.

Just a little ways beyond is the hundreds of faucets clumped together. The cold water sprays down. We get three minutes. We go down our routine. Quickly I scour my arms and legs and face. I help rinse Servien's back as he does to the twins and they do to Aiden. There is no soap. Dirty water trickles down the drains. Insults are shouted at women and men alike. Servien washes off the grime on my back while I and the others get our front sides. With one minute left, we each finish up with our hair. A hand pinches my butt. I jump but turn to the officer and grin at him. It was better for them to like you. He winks at me. I go back to rinsing my unbrushed hair. You could get extra rations. You could feed your cellmates with that privilege. Servien signs the word "art" with his hand shaped for the letter "S". It was my name in sign language.

"What?" He understands English, he just did not like to speak it.

'I avenge you.' He signs.

"Don't bother."

'But he-' I grab his hands quickly and start washing them. Officers were watching us. I meet his eyes and they pierce me with disappointment. I look down, the water stops. Officers hustle us forward to the other clothes drop off where we can pick up whatever is closest in our size. The officer that violated me whistles. At least thirteen women are called forward. Servien grabs my hand.

"Stay together, stay alive." I reassure them. I go willingly to the officer and he meets me with pleasure. His hands find my breasts quickly before even hiding behind the wall. I glance back. Good, my cellmates have already been moved on. He pushes me against the wall and begins pounding away. I force myself to make enticing noises for him, to pull him closer. It was disgusting. But it was worth it. When he and the other officers finish, I notice the other girls are crying.

First timers. I think regrettably.

The officer who had just raped me picks me out some nicer clothes. He helps them on me.

Shit, he's picked me as a favorite.

He whispers sweet nothings. I giggle and flirt with him as long as necesary. He gives me double rations of the better food as well. I thank him profusely but he wants another round before I go. I take off my clothes quickly. This time it's on the ground and when he finishes, he gives me an extra loaf of bread. I clothe myself with the pajama like outfit and pick up the food then hurry back to my cell. The warden is awaiting me.

"Did you have a nice shower?" I realize that he was the one who told the officer I was good.

"Yes, thank you."

"Ooh the good rations too?"

"Yes, Randall." Our relationship confused me.

"It's warden. Now get in your cell you filthy wench." I nod and he locks me in. I divvy up the food to my cellmates.

'How many? Three?' Servien signs while the others eat.

'Two.'

'Before I can kill him.'

'And before you can starve.' I sign rather aggressively and mess up. I sigh and lay back on the small cot intended for the five of us. He lies on his side next to me. I sign 'warrior' with my hand in the shape of 'S', his name.

'What?'

'You think we will leave here ever?'

'This is our temporary home.' He answers. That reminded me of the Carrie Underwood song. I begin to sing it softly.

'More loud.' Servien signs.

"This is our temporary home, it's not where we belong, windows and rooms, that we're passin through," Aiden sings it with me. I hear others from different cells join in the chorus. "This is just a stop on the way to where we're goin', I'm not afraid because I know, this is our temporary home."

'That bad.' He signs with a smile. I shove him gently. He pushes me back. I sit up and push him off the cot. He laughs and tackles me.

"Ah!" I cry out as the twins join in the chaos. I smile grandly at their happy faces, especially Servien's. For a moment, it was almost as if we weren't locked in a cell in a concentration camp. Then Randall bangs on the door.

"Sarah," he barks. The twins get up quickly and I walk outside. The butt of his gun greets my diaphragm. The wind is knocked out of me as I fall. He grips my hair and forces me to look up at him. "Don't look so hopeful. You can't honestly still believe that you'll get out of here, do you?"

"One day." I say, teeth glistening with a blood stained smile. He is taken aback.

"F*cking crazy." He lets go and walks off.

"One day," I whisper to myself. The warm blood feels nice on my cracked lips. I go back inside my cell despite the lack of guards, despite no one telling me to. I close the door and giggle. He couldn't kill my good mood without killing my family first. I look at them. "One day, we'll get out. One day."