December 2013

Jahseh's POV

I haven't slept in days.

I physically can not sleep.

There are these voices in my head that constantly keep me awake.

Any moment of silence I get is instantly taken over by the fuckers in my head.

I wish they would go away.

I just want to sleep. I just want quiet.

These voices didn't start until I entered juvie. 

I hate it.

I spent all night staring at the wall drowning in my thoughts and words. The only times my eyes shut were when I needed to blink.

Which were very few times.

There's a loud click heard from the cell room gates informing us that it's time to shower and head to the cafeteria for breakfast.

I look over at my roommate who seems too scared to speak a word to me.

Which is understandable, last person they put me in a cell with, I beat their ass and wiped their blood on my face.

That's a different story though.

I enter the shower rooms and wash myself up with the small bar of soap they provide us.

Warm showers don't exist in places like this, so I make the wash-up quick enough to last me throughout the day.

I put on my same jumpsuit and head to the cafeteria.

"Jahseh, over here!"

I look up and see Stokeley with two trays in front of him.

One for him and one for me.

"Preciate it," I mutter.

Stokeley is the only nigga I allowed myself to get close with in here. He knows more about me than anyone because he can relate.

"You good bro? You acting all quiet for some reason." He says eating a spoonful of who knows what off his tray.

I shake my head as an answer.

He rubs my back and nods as a gesture to show he understands.

It drives you insane. It traumatizes you.

This whole experience... I'm just counting down the days until I can go home.

Using both hands, I grip my hair and try to shake out the annoying voices that won't shut up.

It doesn't work. It just makes them get louder and louder and louder and louder and

"Stokes," I say, rubbing my eyes in defeat. "We gotta get out of here."

"I know bruh. But what would we do and where would we go?" He says taking another bite. "My parents not fucking with me no more and I know your mom—"

"I know a girl." I interrupt, not wanting a reminder of reality.

"Aw yeah, that Charisma chick?" He says already knowing who I'm referring to.

"Yeah, but I already know her mom don't fuck with me."

"Damn, what'd you do?"

I look him in the eyes with a confused look plastered on my face. We're in juvie, at this point what didn't I do?

"Nothing, Stokes."

"Aight, but listen. When we get out of here we gotta find a way to make money. I wanna flex on my folks for not believing in me."

"I don't wanna work no nine to five though," I mutter. Last job I had, I quit because it felt like slavery having to work under someone else's rules.

"Then let's become rappers, bro! You can spit, I can somewhat spit."

I meet his eyes with a smirk on my face.

"Jah— No." He says already knowing what I'm about to make him do.

I start beating on the table making a rhythm that both of us can freestyle to.

Stoke starts off first and I finish for him. We go back and forth until we run out of words.

"Yeah, we gotta take this rap shit more seriously. As soon as we get out, let's record and find a manager."

I nod to everything he's saying.

"Jahseh!"

My head turns at the sound of my name.

"Phone call. Let's go." A guard says nodding his head to the non-contact visit room.

I dap Stokeley up and tell him I'll catch him later.

I instinctively place my hands behind my back and wait for the guard to put cuffs on it.

Once he does, he escorts me to the telephone room and allows me to call one person for fifteen minutes.

I'm hesitant as I dial Zae's number. I know I should call Charisma, but I can't stand the thought of her hearing me like this.

I listen as the phone rings for what seems like forever.

Finally, there's a click on my end letting me know he answered. 

I smile, "How many nuts would a wood nut bust  if a wood nut could bust nuts?"

"Six-six-six... nine?" He replies.

"Yooo..." I say through laughter. "Call my mom."

"Call her back?"

"Yeah, call her back," I pause. "Imma make her cuss me out."

"Aight."

While I wait for him to call her I mumble and rap whatever comes to mind.

I hear a 'hello?' that I'm almost sure coming from my younger Aiden.

"That's papa?" I ask.

My mom says something that sounds unclear, "Huh?" I ask over her.

"What did you say you wanted to ask me?" She repeats.

I laugh, of course, that's how she greets me. "Dang, that's how you answer the phone?" I continue laughing.

"You act like it's funny, and all of these things... I- I don't think nothing is funny. That's why I don't like this, man. I don't think nothing is funny at all."

I mentally sigh, "Alright so what do you want me to do when I call you then?" There's a pause before I continue speaking over her, "I barely talk to my mom. I'm just trynna talk to my mom and not be depressed. What do you want me to do? This is the conflict we always have. Cause what do you want me to do?

"Do you want me to call you and complain about life and say how horrible I think life is and say how much I wanna hurt myself and... and be depressed? Or what do you—"

"You can say all of that and let them hear you so they can put your ass in a—"

"But that's what I'm saying, what else do you want me to do? I'm calling you happy, laughing... Telling you I appreciate you, telling you I'm trying to learn my lesson in here. Trynna respond positively—"

She interrupts me with something unclear that turns out to cut up from the jail phone. "Huh?" I ask.

"I said I think it's all a bag of trash," she repeats. "Don't tell me that while you're in—"

I roll my eyes. "Alright, I'll leave you alone," I say over her, not wanting to hear the rest of what she has to say.

She still speaks but I don't even hear it, "Imma leave you alone, bye."

"...Leave me alone, but you said you wanted to talk to me about something? So here I am—"

"It's straight," I say, regretting calling her in the first place. "It's straight, it's nothing to talk about no more. It's fine."

There's a pause while I wait for her to hang up, but instead, she says, "Jahseh... Stop being a little bitch—"

"I'm not being a bitch. Bruh, I'm not being a bitch, bruh. I got on the phone to talk to my mom."

Her words are still choppy, but I know she's still arguing with me on the other side of the phone.

"You said you don't want me to laugh and 'kekeke' through the phone, so I'm leaving you alone."

"No, you just keep," she does a horrible impression of my laugh which I think is really funny. I have to ball my lips in attempt to hold back another laugh. "Like you're on drugs or something. Laugh when you need to laugh. Don't just sit here and laugh about dumb shit... It's irritating. Stop doing that. Talk about what you're gonna talk about or whatever the case is."

"It's straight, ma," I reply in a defeated tone. "It's okay, you can go."

"No, you don't want me to do that. I already left the place, so talk about what you wanted to talk about."

I can't hold back my laugh anymore, "Bruh, you're crazyyy." I say laughing at her mood swing.

"I am not crazy, I'm fed up." She pauses. "I'm fed up and I'm tired. Now you dug yourself in a fucking ditch or whatever the case is, so what do you—"

"I was calling you to say helloooo," I drag out. "Why you always wanna argue with meee?"

"What do you mean? What else can I do? I can't whoop your ass."

"Yes, you can." I laugh, "you can whoop my ass."

She sighs, "Bye, Jahseh." Then proceeds to hang up the phone.

I give myself a sad smile, "Thanks, Z." I say to Zaelyn, knowing he's still listening.

"Any time, bro."

I hang the phone up and walk over to the guard to inform him I'm finished.

Me and my mom's relationship has gotten horrible and I can't even blame her.

It's my fault and I know it.

But is it wrong for me to love and crave those moments when she chooses to yell at me?

For me to still want to tell her I love her even after hearing all of the negative shit she just told me?