by Kevin Tiernan

Created on: July 03, 2009

Ever since dad died, things were never the same around the house. Holidays lacked their luster, soccer games were never as exciting as they had been. I went to sleep at night with my mind running wild, my thoughts racing. Mom did everything she could to make things normal. She was always there for me, and I was always there for her. I was a seventeen year old kid who could play about five chords on guitar, and couldn't seem to grow side-burns just right. I wore awkward band tee-shirts, and I could never get my hair into that scene kid look everyone was raving about. Tried gaging my ears once though, didn't work out too well.

When I was twenty three I ran into some trouble with the law that I would rather not discuss. I was charged with three counts of possession and sentenced to hard time behind bars. Chester County Prison was not the ideal place to spend the duration of your young life. Everything seemed to smell like it had been rotting in the sun for ages. I left my poor mother crying at the gates to the jail, hanging my head in shame as I walked the decaying halls. The prisoners jeered behind their rusted bars, spitting at my feet and snarling under their breath. My hair hung over my eyes and I was guided by the guards to my cell. The guards slammed the gate shut, ceiling any means of escape. I sat there for a minute, studying my environment before I took a seat on a bench against the wall. I slouched, staring directly at the ground. I had no cell mate as of yet, which was a huge relief. I just sat there, thinking of how awful my mother felt through all of this. What had I done? Where had I gone wrong?

I had a small rectangular window in my cell, with about six bars running through it. I could see the faintest evidence of daylight casting a glare across my face. These were going to be the longest days I had ever known. I watched the light fade below the edge of the hole in the cinder block. Those hours until the night fall felt like years, and I couldn't stop cursing myself.

Woof.

The sound rippled through the air like a gun shot, a foreign intruder to my world. It sounded a hell of a lot like a dog...

I stood on the bench and peered out through the small opening that was my window. Nothing was there. I sat back down on the bench, putting my head in my hands and sighing. They always say prison is the best place to find yourself.

Woof.

It was more distinct this time, and I rushed to my feet, scanning the outside perimeter for any type of animal.

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