Tom Moses

His office would’ve been much more impressive if every stick of furniture hadn’t come from particle board put together at prison industries, the quality of work produced by felons was quite evident the moment Jules laid eyes on the wannabe mahogany desk. Though this behemoth of a man was certainly brave enough without suggesting that Jules come to see him without handcuffs on, but so many of these guys were like that, brave on the outside but cried themselves to sleep whenever something went horribly wrong. Jules sighed and took a seat, this guy was harmless, and helpless but there was probably little in the way of power he had over the institution other than making the inmates feel better about themselves so that they might push less grievances against the reformatory.

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Jules slid his feet over the polished tile floor, walking had proven difficult enough but really, why was there any hurry? The officer stuck closely behind him and Jules thought about how funny it was that no one else paid any attention to his presence. No stray glances, no gawking, not even an unkind phrase was good enough to acknowledge him. He kept on the straight path toward the elevators guided only by the officer’s occasional word: “Right” or “Left”.

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He reached over and felt the bracelets that gripped his arms to the bars he could only feel. His eyes still didn’t work, not that they didn’t open, but he heard the doctors speak about contusions, brain trauma, and partial blindness. Jules, coughed and it startled the doctors. A nurse rushed to his side and starting asking questions a mile a minute, but he could only barely hear her.

“Stop,” he pushed a struggling voice passed his lips.

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Cold and raining, Jules Perrish can felt every bit of the weather through the orange jumpsuit, but more importantly he could feel every eye tearing through his soul. The classification center, had no fence, hardly much room for much else than triple bunked cells and a weight room, as inmates spent only as much time as was necessary to send them to their new homes away from society. For Jules, on that first day stepping off the bus from county jail, getting out of the classification center was only the first step in a twenty-year sentence.

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