4 – Sadie
SADIE
Day One
( Well, it was supposed to be )
The Start of the Cabin Experiment
N auseating diesel fumes sift through the van’s vents and clog my throat. My eyes burn so badly it hurts to blink, and I’ve been sitting on this metal seat so long that my thighs are numb.
I’m not sure why I let myself believe the ride to Dr. Weiss would be short and peaceful—or that I’d be making the journey in the back of a patrol car—but this situation is exactly what I deserve for getting my hopes up.
This ride began with me and eleven other inmates, but after stopping at a few other prisons for drop-offs, our manifest is now down to five.
Plus the two escort guards and the driver...
“I know it’s been a long ride for you ladies,” the lead guard calls from the front. “Do I need to turn up the air conditioning, or are you comfortable enough back there?”
It’s a trick question.
There is no air conditioning back here.
There’s a glass divider between us and them to ensure the cool air never reaches our side.
The guard laughs at his own joke, and the female guard in the passenger seat joins in, as if she hadn’t heard him make this exact joke hours ago.
Then again, I’d rather listen to that joke than the ones he’s made about “the beautiful roadside views,” “getting a tasty lunch outside of prison walls,” or “relaxing in comfort outside the cells.”
Our “views” are each other and the ugly gray paneling that covers where the windows should be.
When they stopped at Burger King for lunch, they handed us kiddie cups of water and ketchup packets while they gorged on loaded burgers and fries.
And even if we could move more than two inches without our chains, it would still be impossible to feel any comfort at all.
I shut my eyes and hope like hell that my stop is next.
Just when I think I’m about to die from smoke inhalation, the van screeches to a sudden, jerky stop. The back doors swing open, and the thick stench of hot pavement floods in.
Hopeful, I squint my eyes to see where we are, and...
It’s another prison.
Ugh.
“Welcome to Pensacola Correctional Center, ladies. Let’s go!” a female guard snaps her fingers. “Step out one by one without stepping on the main chain!”
Like zombies, we obey and step out. We’re strip-searched—again—and then marched into a room that features tall cages facing a concrete desk.
At least there’s air conditioning.
One by one, my riding mates are called and then taken behind a door for processing. There are no “good luck” or “goodbye” moments exchanged; the use for sentimental moments was lost years ago.
After what feels like an eternity, I’m the only one left.
An officer glances between his clipboard and my face.
“I don’t have another inmate on my intake roster today,” he says to the transport crew, confused. “Am I missing something?”
“No, not at all,” the female guard replies casually. “We’re dropping this one off at her final destination after this. It’s in Tennessee.”
He lifts a brow. “You decided to drive to Florida first, instead of simply stopping in Tennessee?”
“I guess so.” She shrugs, smiling. “We couldn’t resist seeing the beach and some palm trees.”
The officer turns his gaze to me, and the shred of sympathy on his face slowly transforms into anger.
“Oh, I see...” He shakes his head at me. “Sadie Pretty is in desperate need of some diesel therapy.”
“Diesel therapy?” She places a hand on her chest, still smiling. “We would never do something like that. That’s the textbook definition of cruel and unusual punishment.”
“I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes.” He picks up a brown paper bag from the desk and slides it through my cage. “Here’s some lunch, Inmate.”
I’m too hungry to think about what they mean by diesel therapy , and I rip the bag open and devour the bruised apple, soggy cookie, and crusty cheese sandwich.
It isn’t until I’m marched back to the van—alone—that the female officer’s words register in my brain.
They drove me all the way to Florida, hours out of the way, just to torture me.