Once a month, we met with our “counselor" for fifteen minutes. She was a special guard and particularly nasty bitch hired by Kelly to go over our work reports and classification status with us. I still had 2 ½ strikes so far, but was managing to get satisfactory work and dorm behavior reports.
As bad as the food, exercise and work routines were, they did accomplish something. The hard work and nasty but highly nutritious food and not being able to smoke or do drugs for the first time in years had put me in the best physical shape of my life. When the prison nurse checked me and weighed me last week, I was down to 135, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on me anywhere there shouldn’t be.
I missed Cory like hell, but started lusting for Pilar. She was strong and rough, but beautiful in her own way. During our evening time, we talked about our lives, and her rough childhood in Nicaragua. She taught me speak Spanish and I helped her learn to write and read English better. Of course, with the tight security around here, we couldn’t even get away with “self-satisfaction" let alone anything physical with another con!
My life totally sucks now. Suicide has crossed my mind more than once while sweating in the plate factory. I could stick my head in the plate press and my misery would end.
