I have been imprisoned here in this hell hole for the last four years. Fucking TDCJ psych ward. This is where they send the real fucked up prisoners. I’m in for murder, but I managed to make the courts believe I was completely insane. I thought I’d get to go to some hospital. I figured I could handle a lifetime of dealing with the crazies, then having to fight everyday to protect myself and my man-hood.
These motherfuckers threw me in the psych ward of the damn prison. So not only do I have to fight to defend myself, but I also have to deal with the crazies. Talk about a double whammy.
So here I sit in my cell. My cell mate is an old Mexican man named Isidro. He got caught fucking his goat so I guess they put guys in here who fuck animals. I just call him “Goat Fucker”. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.
If you ask me what a typical day is like in this place. I would have to reference any prison movie you’ve ever seen and then times that by three. Just yesterday I had to knock the fuck out of another inmate just for trying to punk me out of roll at dinner time.
Now the psych ward in this place is a little different than the areas in prison. See, if you get into a fight in Gen-Pop, They throw you into the hole. That’s solitary confinement. But here, Not so much. They tend to try to get you to work on your feelings. They medicate you heavily.
All of this, I’m telling you, is not the reason why I’m talking about this. The real reason why I’m talking to you is to tell you about Door number four. For all we know, no one is in that cell. But the guards always bring food to it, and take empty trays away. We never see who’s in that cell. We never see anyone. I think they just feed the cell like a superstition. I’m not sure exactly. All I know is that the guards are really nervous when they bring the food or pick up the trays.
I never hear a single sound coming from Door Number Four. I walk past it several times a day when we’re not confined to our cells. As much as I tried, I couldn’t get a look at anyone that could have been in that cell. I tried sneaking a peek on a pass-by. I tried blatantly looking inside. Each time I saw nothing.
“Who are these fuckers feeding twice a day?” I thought.
Finally, I broke and decided to ask my cell mate. I mean he had been there since before my time. He had to know something.
“Okay, old man goat fucker, spill it.” I demanded. “Tell me about Cell Door number four. What’s that about?
“You don’t want to know,” he answered.
“I do,” I responded.
“It’s something you don’t think you want to know about but it’s really not something you want to know about,” he said.
“I think I can handle it, old man,” I argued.
Okay, this is what I know. I came here in 1985, That cell was never opened. There was no one in that cell as far as we knew. The cell was empty. For the most part we didn’t pay any mind. We watched the guards come everyday to deliver the food, and to take away the trays. We never saw a single soul in there.
The rumors floated around and said that there was a demon that the government managed to catch. Other rumors said that the prison lost a prisoner that went crazy and killed everyone on the cell block.
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted, “Which is it? A demon or a crazed maniac?”
“Does it really matter?” Goat Fucker responded.
“I guess not,” I answered.
“Then let me finish, since you asked,” GF demanded.
So we never knew who or what was in that cell. We only knew to stay away from it. There were a lot of rumors and theories about who could have been in that cell. None of which was right or if it were right, we’d never know. All we knew was that it was off limits. No matter how big and bad you were, you didn’t go near that cell.
That was what I was told by my celly. For the past 4 months, I followed those directives. I didn’t dare go near Cell number four.
I remember there was one day, we were all out in the yard. The rest of the population had completed their yard time so it was time for us. We were out walking the perimeter, and doing our dailies. I was approached by Madden, one of the guards that brought the dinner trays to cell four. He wanted to know if I had heard anything about that cell. You see, He had only been there about 3 months. He was just as dumbfounded as I was.
I told him I didn’t know anything about that cell other than the fact that everyone stays away from it. They continued to pelt me with questions but I stuck to the same answers. That’s all I had for him.
By my fourth month, I became very curious about door number four. I just needed to know who or what was behind that door. I couldn’t contain myself anymore. I had to know. I waited until the right moment. There was a prisoner named Gatcho. He was known to be an escape artist of sorts. I knew I needed to talk to this guy. They say he managed to escape from some of the most secure prisons in the country. That was the case until he got tired of running. But I needed to know how to get out of my cell. I had to know about door number four.
I found Gatcho sitting on a set of bleachers, with a gang of Mexican prisoners. Getting past them was tricky, because I had to get to Gatcho without them thinking I meant him any harm.
“What do you want, fucker?” said El Gato.
“I just need to talk to Gatcho,” I answered.
“What do you want with Gatcho?” asked El Gato.
“I just need to know about Door four,” I responded.
The whole chorus of prisoners on the bleachers started laughing. It was as if they knew what I was trying to do.
“So you want to get into door number four, huh,” said a guy at the end of the bleachers.
“Yeah, but first I need to get out of my cell to check it out,” I answered.
“Yeah, and you think you can just do what Gatcho does?” another one asked.
“Sure, I can do anything I really want to do,” I answered.
They let me past to talk to Gatcho. He told me exactly how to get out of my cell, at night after the head count. I followed his directions exactly. They worked perfectly. It was after midnight, and the head count had already been done. Following Gatcho’s instructions, I found myself outside of my cell and in a very dark corner. The guards would never find me there.
Once the guards cleared out and were no longer paying attention, I took that opportunity to move toward the door. A single light shown on the ominous portal displaying it in the dark like some evil beacon. I crept in closer. As I drew near it, I thought I heard a voice calling to me.
“Come closer,” the voice whispered.
I stopped for a moment to check to make sure I was really hearing it.
“Closer,” whispered the voice again.
I crept in closer, just enough to reach out and touch the door. I leaned in toward the tray hole just to get a peak as to who was in that room. I did see anything at all. I was as the room was empty.
Knock, knock, knock
There was a knock on the door from the inside. It scared me and I jumped back. My heart pounded and my breath shortened. I caught my breath and then heard laughter from inside.
“Who’s in there?” I asked quietly.
I didn’t really expect an answer, but I got one.
“Just lil’ ol’ me,” the voice answered.
“Who is ‘Me’?” I asked.
“Nobody, go back to your cell,” the voice returned.
I crept in closer again. I needed to get a look at whoever was in that room. I peered into the tray hole again. Still didn’t see anything. Then just as I was about to back off. A pair of eyes appear from out of the dark. They glowed like little light bulbs. I ran straight back to my cell. Got myself back into my bed and tried to forget about what I saw and heard. It took a couple of hours to fall asleep. It happened once I convinced myself that I had imagined the whole thing.
A week had gone by and I never revisited door number 4 since that night. I was sitting out in the yard one day. And Gatcho came up to me and asked about the escapade. I was reluctant to talk about it.
“How’d it go, the other night?” he asked.
“It was ok, I guess,” I answered.
“So did you find out what you wanted to find out?” Gatcho asked.
“I don’t know,” I responded.
“Come on you either found something in there or you didn’t,” Gatch pressed.
Since I was reluctant to talk about it, Gatcho decided to leave it alone. I was glad of that.
The next couple of days really got out of hand. It started with a minor unrest session on the block. A couple of inmates began fighting. Omar and Griff. Griff had the upper hand as the fight drifted near door number four. Omar got knocked down where his head was near the tray hole. A hand reached out and grabbed his head. The hand began to pull it into the hole. It’s only a four inch by eight inch opening.
The crowd of on-lookers immediately fell silent as we all watched the horror. The bones of his skull cracked as the hand dragged Omar’s bloody head through the hold until it came detached from the rest of him.
The alarm sound and the guards came pouring in. Everyone scattered and ran back to their cells. The guards didn’t even bother to ask what happened. They already knew. I remember Gallager having a grin on his face as he looked around at everyone as if to say, “This is what happens to you when you step out of line, or go snooping around where you don’t belong.”
He aimed that snooping part right at me. I guess he knew about my sneaking out to get a look at number four. I wasn’t gonna say anything, though.
No one ever wondered about door number four again. We all pretty much knew, and if any newcomers asked about it. We made sure to explain it to them.