I don’t think it had anything to do with the situation other then that I was standing there. Yet, there I was sitting at the telephone table in the staff office going over my weekly points when this bitch looks at me and tells me “you ain’t gangstuh” and after dealing with a whole day off it – a week before making Level 3, being able to go home to my make shift imaginary family every weekend, leave the house for three hours, being able to breath – I decide to walk away from the screaming black girl, named Countess, who’s mother was dead, who was from Hempstead… I got up with the thought of freely smoking cigarettes and walked away with my pudding cup.

The next second I’m pinned to the table and there are punches going to my head. I don’t remember getting to the table or under this giant wench but I was only going to block I wasn’t going to swing- it took me 12 weeks to get to Level 3 and I wasn’t going to give it up for her.

Beth pulled her off of my and to consciousness I came. I put my hand to my head which was wet and brought it down in front of face – I was saw what could have only been blood and started screaming: “You fuckin’ bitch I’m bleeding!!! I’m gonna fucking kill you! You better be fucking glad you got your hits because I’m gonna fuckin’ slice your throat in your sleep you fucking cunt!”

She stood there for a while with a snide grin while I struggled to get close enough to her to rip her skin off with my fingernails. I was gonna kill her.

Beth and another staff member had my arms. Beth being the obvious volley ball team captain from some white suburban town, and Miss Lilly took my arms and brought me upstairs where in the bathroom mirror, I stared back me. Staring at the shirt that I had worked over a hot grill for $5.15/hr to buy at the mall so no one would believe where I came from.

Covered in chocolate pudding. What I thought was blood, was pudding. I had broken. I cried into my shirt that was a worth 4 hours of grill scrubbing. Crying because I lost my temper. Crying because I knew I wasn’t going to ever leave. That these situations would plague my life forever. Crying because no one cared. Crying because in that single moment I had lost a little more of myself.

Hours later, sitting on the balcony with Anna on lookout smoking and crying and crying because I knew I would get dropped for smoking, for the fight I was ballsy enough to walk away from, that I would get dropped for… waiting for the cops to arrest her while she joked about her hand hurting from punching me in the head.

She spent that night in jail. She was released in the morning based on her own guilt and apologies. She wasn’t sorry when she did it was she? No.

Everyone said that was a pussy’s fight. All 11 other girls. Because I was walking away. Because I never messed with anyone.

She got placed in a lock down facility a few months later. As soon as a bed opened. Looking back I would have been so much better off if I had stayed there.

  1. Mmmmm, smack pak pudding! =)
    Hate to say this but I probably would have had a grin on my face too if I saw you covered in pudding and flipping out thinking that you were bleeding. *shrugs*

  2. It’s funny to look back on, but at the time I probably would have been a bit upset if it were me.

  3. Being covered in chocolate pudding is almost.. nevermind.
    At least things caught up with her in the end.

  4. Gee! How intense! I’ve never been involved in a fist fight. But everytime I come home from work (I work in Retail – selling manchester) I get weird bruises. (Bedlinen is heavy!) :( Anyways, glad the law caught up with her in the end.