Industry • 6ix9ine

Chapter 9- Every Word

He sucked his teeth. "Yo, what the fuck is good wit this door?!" He shouted, rather loudly. I thought it was a bit unessecery honestly.

I stood up and walked over to him in front of the door. I twisted the knob and pushed the door open, easily.

His face was as red as a tomato, that door knob really pissed him off and I was so confused as to why. It made absolutely no sense to me. He just walked through the door and threw himself on the couch and let out a sigh of frustration.

I went into the living room where he was, and slowly sat next to him.

"Danny..?" I asked.

"Ion wan talk about it." He said, not even looking at me.

"Okay.." I nodded, understandingly. "If you need someone to listen, I'm here. Okay?" I rubbed his shoulder.

He nodded, and continued looking forward.

I hated that he wouldn't open up to me. Besides this thing we have going on whatever it is and whatever we are, one thing I do know is that Danny is my friend. I care about the things he goes through, and I don't want him to be upset or frustrated and not be able to tell me why.

I got up off the couch and headed back to my bedroom to give him some space.

"I have PICS." He finally spoke out. "At least that's what they told me, but ion really be jackin' that shit."

I turned around, and sat back down next to him.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Post Incarceration Syndrome." He said. "Issa form of PTSD."

"For the past year, doors and gates been opened and closed fuh me. I didn't have the freedom to just open a door wheneva I pleased. When I tried, they were always locked. So when I twist a knob now, in my mind the shit is still locked even if it's not." He further explained. "I ended up beating down my own door one time cause I thought I couldn't open it. I started to feel like I was back in prison and the walls literally started tuh close in on me, so I lost it."

My heart felt like it broke into a million pieces for him. I damn near felt to cry. These are things that no one thinks about, and it was a real eye opener for me. Sure he's free now, but mentally he still feels like he's locked sometimes. Physically being free is only half the battle. Being mentally free from prison is another battle all by itself.

I was speechless and had no idea what to say in that moment. I just wish there was a way I could take this burden away from him.

"I felt crazy, like a fuckin psycho." He said, looking away from me. "There's habits I still can't shake from bein' locked. Like gettin' up mad early, taking five minute showers as if I'm still being timed. I literally had to get used to eating with a fork again the first few weeks out, cause we wasn't allowed tuh use them in there. Only spoons, so we can't hurt others or ourselves with the sharp part." He shook his head. "And I still hear that fuckin gate. That fuckin' gate slamming, and lockin' me in that goddamn cell every night."

"You're not 'crazy.' Everything you're goin' through is completely normal for someone who's been through what you've been through." I said to him. "You survived that hell hole, a lot of people don't; and I'm so proud of you for that."