A Stranger I Met

My eyes widened as the cold metal came in contact with my wrist. It took a minute before I could decipher what was happening. I stared in horror at the handcuff on my wrist and gasped when I was shoved a bit by the policeman beside me as he urged me to walk faster. Everything was happening rapidly and it felt like my brain was giving way; I could barely think and I felt my entire body go numb. 

"I'm. . .I'm innocent," I managed to say but it seemed there was no rationale in this case and from the looks on the officers' faces, I knew I was pouring water into a basket; they didn't believe me and It didn't even help that the woman who had reported this case was fidgeting like she had seen a ghost; like I was a dreadful thing to behold.  

"You have the right to remain silent otherwise, whatever you say will be used against you in the court of law." The officer beside me spoke as he ordered that my son be taken away from me. The little child had held unto my leg, crying at the top of his voice and when I tried to hold him, I was shoved once again as they led me down the stairs. I tried to speak but all I could do was whimper as thoughts of all that had happened some minutes ago filled my memory. I was yet to get over the event yet I was being driven into another trouble — bigger trouble.  I still couldn't believe it had happened.  I would have dismissed this as a nightmare but the blood on my hands was enough proof that it was reality.  I was being arrested. 

"You can't do this. Let me at least speak to my father," I tried to win them over but all I said fell on deaf ears as they pushed me into the van and drove off. 

My eyes welled up as I shut my eyes. God knew I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was only trying to save my son. Why couldn't anyone understand that? 

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The creaking of the iron bars irritated me as I laid on the cold prison floor — the nauseating smell of the watery beans the officer had dropped for me not helping issues in any way. I still wondered who it was that prepared the meals at the prison yard. Perhaps,  he or she didn't taste the meal before dishing it out for people to eat. There was no other explanation for this poison of a food.

I sighed as I kicked the stainless steel that had been used to serve me, away from me. Never in my wildest dream did I think I would be spending my third day in prison.  Though my father had informed me the last time he visited that he had hired a renowned lawyer to take over my case, I just couldn't bear the thought of spending one more day here. I wanted to leave. I wished he would try harder to get me out of here as soon as possible. 

I cupped my palms as I slapped the mosquito that was now diligently sucking blood from my arm.  I was alone yet again after tasting freedom for about ten minutes. Veronica had left me alone after wailing her eyes out. It didn't even help that I couldn't say a word to comfort her or even make some gestures at least. I had sat aloof like a rock instead and had watched her cry till an officer signalled it was the end of her visitation.  

Though the locking fetters used to handcuff me when I was with Veronica had been taken off, I still felt the tingling sensation around my wrist; the marks they had left ever clear on my skin. I peered at my skin through the dark but saw nothing. The small window by the side of the all did little to brighten up the room. 

Being in prison had made me appreciate little things like sunlight and fresh air which I had always taken for granted before. There was nothing like freedom and no one should be confined to a tiny space like this. I wondered how I would have coped had my dad not been one of the prominent figures in town. I had once walked past other cells and had seen how countless prisoners were locked up in a stuffy place with no air.  At least, I had a room to myself unlike what I had seen back then.

A deep sigh escaped my lips when I heard some noise coming from another cell. It was a cry of agony and shivers went down my spine as I shut my eyes, listening to the cries go and on. I needed no one to explain to me what had happened.  It had always been that way and of recent, prisoners had been dying like fleas. I had only been in prison for two days and within that short duration,  six men had collapsed and been buried. 

One had happened while we were out for our periodic promenade the previous day.  According to what I was told, the commandant had organised a periodic promenade for the prisoners.  Though the prisoners seemed to dread this — I now understood why — it was a moment to enjoy the fresh air and beautiful sunlight — rare gems I had come to appreciate.  

While we were lined up before the commandant the previous day — a fierce-looking middle-aged man with an old fashioned helmet covering his bald head — one of the prisoners: a skinny looking old man who stammered a lot, was caught whispering words to his partner while the commandant was speaking.  According to how everyone had reacted, I knew it was a grave sin to speak when the commandant was. I was new here and so was taking note of everything.  I didn't want to get into trouble even when some of the officers that stood watch by my cell were unusually nice to me. One of the guards had promised I would be out soon and I did believe him — the son of a rich man wouldn't rot in jail, would he? 

The two offenders that were caught talking were brought before the commandant and were asked to lie flat on the ground.  A whip was passed to the grimacing commandant who raised the whip in the air with so much force and began lashing out painful strokes on the skin of the feeble old man who looked like he would pass out by mere shove of hands.  I had shut my eyes while the lashing went on; I couldn't bear to watch — not when the old man was wailing at the top of his voice.

What I didn't expect to see, however, was the lifeless body of the man lying on the ground after some lashes — the loud cry I heard around me had forced my eyelids open.