Your turn, p.1
Your Turn, page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
For Erin, Jazmin, Lavender, Lavelle Jr. and Camille.
Remember, anything is possible.
Chapter 1
"Inmate 847130, you need to wake up," said a correctional officer.
That number was attached to former detective Seven House twenty years ago. Seven House was convicted of a crime that he did not commit. House was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
House was called to a homicide location that left a police officer dead, and House could not remember what happened. When he spoke his truth to investigators, they couldn't be convinced.
House was a peculiar character. He was quiet and reserved. He kept to himself, even though he had his more prominent presence. This was to him being over 6ft tall and around 250 pounds. However, he would be the loudest in the room when it came to interviewing suspects, collecting evidence, testifying, finding the motive, you name it.
House was exceptional at hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship. Even though he rarely ever used it. Before his incarceration, his verbal communication skills made assailants think twice. However, his verbal skills had deteriorated due to his not using them.
"I told you to get up!" the correctional officer exclaimed.
"Yeah, man, I heard you. I'm going to get up here. Just a second," House responded.
While House was in prison, he spent tons of time in solitary confinement. During his incarceration, there were numerous attempts on his life. This was due to him being a police officer. Oddly, he was either provided cell mates he helped convict or with convicted cop killers. When he appealed to the Warden about this, he was ignored. Sadly, this was expected since he was convicted of killing one himself.
Their attempts were futile. House would injure the attackers, so they wouldn't think twice about trying again.
The last cellmate he had, Peter Walsh, aka Worm, was assigned to House's cell so he could protect him. House didn't have a choice in the matter. The correctional officers weren't interested in doing their job.
Peter was paper thin, with unkempt hair. He rarely said anything and kept to himself. Just as House would have preferred.
Peter was in the middle of doing a prison stint due to multiple financial crimes he committed. He and a few others would access the bank accounts of criminals, political figures, and billionaires and then donate their money to worthy causes. Normally, he would do this if you were found guilty of a crime and got off with a slap on the wrist.
Unfortunately for Peter, one of the rookie members of the crew attempted this on their own and was caught. Unfortunately, they sang like a canary, and the entire team was arrested. All but Walsh were killed before trial.
Peter is a master of anything that required technology. So, unlike other people who were periodically able to use phones, tablets, and laptops in a controlled environment, Walsh was banned for fear he could modify his prison sentence and others if he was pressured.
The correctional officers recently removed Walsh to move him in preparation for his being assigned to a different facility.
House exits the cell and heads to the community area. There was a crowd of prisoners gathered a few feet from his cell. Some of the faces seemed familiar, but others did not. One of them pointed in House’s direction.
"Here he is. Boy, don't you hear me talking to you?" House looked over at the guy. He did not believe he had seen him before.
He said," You don't remember me? Do you realize I'm here because of you?"
"I would have gotten away with it if you didn't decide to stick your nose into my business," He rushes House.
House quickly dodges out of the way and throws a right hand straight down the middle, knocking the guy to the ground. The assailant quickly gets to his feet, “Lucky punch, it won’t happen again.”
The crowd slowly started to circle House and his attacker. House realized most of these men he had previously had altercations with.
“Let’s go,” The prisoner ran toward House. House ducked under one of the punches and grabbed the aggressor, picking him up and slamming him on the ground. The attacker was bleeding profusely from his head.
Correctional officers rush over, "Not this shit again, "one of them said, " I thought we told you that you got to be nice to people?"
"The guy ran up on me with a shank," House pointed to the ground," What do you expect me to do?"
The guy was taken off to the infirmary, and House was again brought down to solitary confinement. “These guys are getting bolder,” House thought, “It will be a matter of time before someone gives them an easier opportunity.”
Later in the day, The Warden decided to speak to House. "Hey man, what is going on? Do you like being left alone?"
House responded," I've been alone most of my life, so this is nothing new. I have no problems or qualms with being left to myself. So, the ideas and thoughts I have for myself remain with me. I find it beneficial. I have nothing to lose at this point. I have nobody waiting for me. I have not had a single visitor since I've been here."
"I actually have good news for you."
"What's that?"
"You may be getting out of here sooner than later."
"How!” House stood up and walked towards the cell door. This appeared to be the best news House had received in a long time.
"I'm retiring today, and the new Warden has already been named. I don't know who it is, but I heard rumors he was sent here specifically for you.
It might work out for everybody if you're no longer here. But then, you either hospitalize attackers or end up in solitary confinement for months. "As long as your release is quiet, I think it will be alright."
House barked, "You guys do what you want." As the Warden walked off.
As House looked around the space, he realized this was the same one they always seemed to put him in. He noticed all the etchings he could make from this spoon that they tended to always leave him. Maybe they thought he would kill himself. But typically, everybody else had plastic utensils, and they would always give him metal spoons to eat whatever his food was on.
He looked at the corner and saw where he had headbutted against the wall. He was not angry when he did it, nor did he try to kill himself. Instead, he did it so he could feel something. He hadn't felt for something in so long.
Shortly after he was placed in the room, another correctional officer knocked on the door, "We're going to go ahead and remove you from solitary and put you back into your room."
"Why?" House asked.
"That guy that attacked you admitted that he was the one who went after you first," The correctional officer responded, "Just like all the other times, it never seems to be your fault."
"I would say this candidly, I don't believe that you're the person who murdered that police officer years ago. I’ve worked in prisons for many years. Murders have a different look about them; you can see it in their eyes. You don’t have that same look."
House looked at him with wide eyes. That was the first time anybody told him that they could not believe he was the person who committed the murder.
"Are you sure you should be telling me this," House asked.
"I recently learned the type of police officer you were. Now, let's go."
House walked out of the cell and started to head down the hallway. He didn't know how he should take the correctional officer's comments. But, over time, he took some ownership of what happened. He knew he should have had someone with him when he went to the crime scene. That was standard protocol. If he had done this, he might have avoided this.
Recently, House started volunteering time to teach people who were trying to get high school equivalency degrees when they were in prison. This was considered a safer task than getting a prison job.
The classes were conducted in the library. The library was small and rarely received any new materials. Before and after class, he would browse the collection, looking for anything that seemed interesting. House gained an interest in crossword puzzles and Sudokus. To create new crossword puzzles, House would tear out words from discarded books and create hints for them. This was a painstaking process, but it provided House with the mental stimulation he rarely got.
One day, House was told to assist in the laundry room. House was wise as to what was going on. Whenever someone was asked to help in a different part of the prison, they rarely returned. He knew he was being set up. These antics were getting tiresome.
"Why are you taking me here?" House asked, "I volunteer enough time."
"They are really shorthanded," The correctional officer explained," There is a lot of stuff that needs to be folded."
"This is a prison; there is always shit to fold."
House was struck in the back of his head for the statement. This verified what House thought was about to happen, which he grew accustomed to.
Correctional officers are notoriously underpaid; some would do anything to make extra cash, Including jeopardizing their freedom.
As they appr oached the laundry room. House noticed there were people in there who typically didn't do laundry. Usually, it was an older Asian man, an older white man, and a middle-aged Black guy. However, this time it was all younger, Hispanic individuals in there. The guard left House handcuffed as he put them into the door.
"Why am I in cuffs? How do I fold clothes?" House asked.
"You could fold clothes in cuffs," the correctional officer replied, closing the door.
The smallest one of the individuals turned around to look at House and said, "Do you remember me?"
House looked him over. The individual had a shaved head, face and neck tattoos, and a scar on his left cheek that appeared new. Then it hit him. House realized the person’s name was Javier Sanchez. Javier Sanchez was an affiliate of a gang that ran rampant from Chicago down to Miami with little factions, breaking off in different cities with ways to access waterways to move drugs.
House would admit Javier did have a polarizing personality; Javier could get the attention of those who wanted to be in a gang to follow his lead and dramatics. When it came to people in Javier's community, not so much. Most people would say Javier was putting on a front about his gang affiliation. None of the ones in the community even batted an eye when he would speak of such things. Javier had cars, clothes, and girls. However, whenever he needed backup or assistance with anything, no one was ever around besides the folks who wanted to chase the clout Javier had achieved.
House circled away from the door and said, " Javier, it has been a long time. I’m surprised you are on laundry duty."
"Shut up, puta," Javier responds. "Don't act like you are my friend. You are the reason why I am in this shithole."
"You are here because of something you did. It's not my fault your dumbass got caught. It was one of the easiest cases I had as a young detective," House laughed.
"Listen up, pendejo, we have nothing to discuss. I have been waiting for this opportunity for years. I thought I would have to catch you on the outside, but you made it easy for me," Javier boldly stated.
"So, you all are going to jump me with handcuffs on? Does that make you feel brave and tough? I bet your boys back home would be so proud of the bitch you have become," said House.
"I'm tired of this shit!" Javier exclaimed, "Get him."
House readied himself for the attack. He started looking around the room to see if anything seemed unusual. The last thing he wanted to do was to put himself near a weapon they had stashed in preparation for his arrival. He saw someone standing in front of the door from the corner of his eye. It appeared they had the same neck tattoo Javier had but crudely done. "Sanchez must have paid them off," House thought. Sanchez and his goons were getting closer and closer to House. House started to examine their hands, and he didn't see a shank on any of them.
"Do y'all really think they are going to whoop my ass empty-handed," He yelled," Y'all would have a tough time fighting out of a wet paper sack!"
"What are you thinking about House?" Javier asked. "You do realize there is no escape. The person on the door won't open it until I give him a password. That is why we aren't in a rush here. It's at least two hours until dinner, four to lights out, and headcount. We miss dinner, and no one would bat an eye. Think about it, we have more than enough time to end this."
"I'm not missing dinner tonight," House aggressively stated. "They are serving catfish nuggets. It is one of the only edible things in this place, and it's rarely served!"
House wanted to put himself in a position to strike first. However, he thought about the person who was at the door. He needed to find out if it was a correctional officer or not. The window in the door wasn’t big enough to get a full view of the person. House figured if he seemed to get the upper hand early, it could be over for him if it was one. House also knew he couldn't let them strike first. He wouldn't get back to his feet if he stumbled or fell. Luckily, House didn't have leg shackles on. He was able to move freely as needed.
"You go high, I'll go low," one of the unknown guys said to the other. While these guys were slightly taller than Javier, they were also skinner than him. "If Javier is the same as he always has been, these guys are probably small-time punks that were promised some bull from him," House thought, " The time is now. I have to strike first".
House moved towards the two guys and pressed one of them against the washing machine. The other one swings, and House dodges the punch. "Damn it!" Javier screams, "Do I have to do everything myself!" Javier rushes towards House, who still has one of the guys pressed against the washer and strikes him in the ribs. House is forced to release the guy from the washing machine and has to circle away. He receives a swift kick in the ribs from the guy who missed the punch. "That's what I am talking about, Mario! Kick the literal shit out of him!" Javier yells.
House falls back against the dryers and states, "You know I would have already ended this situation if the handcuffs were off. Is this all y'all got?" House found he was filled with excitement. It had been a long time since he had to carefully plan his moves.
Mario ran towards House again, trying to go for a takedown. Instead, House strikes Mario in the back. Javier slaps House in the face repeatedly. Finally, House dodges one of the punches and hits Mario on the back of his head.
"Tony, are you going to help, or are you going to just sit back and watch what we are doing," Javier angrily said. "Get your punk ass up!" Tony clumsy attempts to throw a punch and accidentally strikes Javier and causes him to fall back. "Motherfucker, Tony, what is the fucking problem?! Do you think I look like House," Javier states, pissed off while holding his jaw.
House breaks away from Mario and strikes Tony while he is distracted. Tony falls to the floor. As Mario starts to turn around, House grabs his head and smashes it against the dryer, knocking him out. "Two down, one to go," House states confidently, walking toward Javier.
"Fuck you, House!” Javier states as he throws a looping punch toward House. House quickly ducks under the punch and positions himself to start choking Javier with the handcuffs.
Javier starts gurgling, and House states, "Javier, you are going to tell whoever is ever at the door that they are going to let me out of here. Do you understand?"
"Ffff-you, House," Javier struggles to say while being choked.
"Javie, you know you aren't tough enough to die here; just do what I told you to do." House starts applying the choke even tighter. Javier looks like he is about to pass out. The color on his face is disappearing. His grip around House's wrist is weakening.
"Hey, Sanchez! You aren't dying on me until I get outta here," House screams at Javier.
Javier starts coughing, then tells House, "Vete a la mierda, chupa mi polla (fuck you suck my dick)," with an overconfident smile.
"This is the wrong time to have some balls, Sanchez!"
House needed clarification about what to do next. Javier seemed to intend to let whatever happened here happen, but why? "You never had plans on winning this fight, did you?" Javier didn't respond. "You figured we wouldn't make head count and get time added to our sentence? Answer me!" Javier still refused to say anything. "Well, since you don't wanna talk, you might as well go to sleep."
Quickly, House released the choke and uncorked a thunderous right hand, knocking Javier out. "Well, I guess I'm not getting those catfish nuggets, shit," House says out loud while admiring his handy work. The three assailants were sprawled out on the ground, unconscious. House padded each of them down to see if they had any weapons on them. To his surprise, they didn’t.
House started hearing the sound of people running down the hallway. "Inmate, back to your cell!" House heard someone scream. Correctional officers began surrounding the door.
"We know you all are in there! Lay on your stomach with your arms out to your side," one of them ordered.
House went ahead to lie down. Since he was handcuffed, he stretched his arms above his head. The correctional officers opened the door.
"Well, I thought we would arrive too late for you, House. However, it seems like we got here too late for the other guys," said another while laughing.
"Who are the guys House did a number to? Oh, it's Sanchez and his makeshift crew. Mr. Big Shot. I guess he received another reminder why he isn't. House, we will take you to the infirmary, and then the new Warden wants to see you."
