Diamond in the Rough

Doug releases Jem from his grip and falls back onto his ass, just staring open-mouthed at his friend, his brother. Jem scoots back against the bottom of the work-top, his eyes studying the floor. Doug moves closer to his friend.

"Jesus. Why didn't you tell me?" Doug asks softly. It's the first thing that came into his head.

Jem runs his hands over his buzzed hair, a painful and angry look on his face. Doug had learned through his meetings to confront his demons, the ones that walked away without complaint and the ones that taunted him every day, trying to seduce him.

"Jem?" Doug says quietly."It's okay. Just tell me what happened; when, how?"

The smaller man's eyes stay on the floor. He can't bring himself to look at Doug.

"I was in the laundry"Jem begins."I was...uh folding some sheets when they came in. Six of them. They put a rope 'round my neck, kicked me to the floor and beat the hell out of me and then..."

FLASHBACK

The laundry room is hot, everyone sweaty and miserable. The odour of bleach and antibacterial powders burn their noses, a smell that everyone get's used to after a while. Steam rises from the presses in clouds, the rattle of clothing rails scuttle over the floor. There are several men in the laundry room, pulling and pushing the red uniforms in and out of the washing drums, large tubs of clean and dirty uniforms being transferred.

There's no friction between any of the men in the room even though they are from different backgrounds. The code of prison and survival is that you stick with your race. Even in the relatively non-grudging atmosphere, everyone remembers their place. The Irish stay with the Irish, the Black's stay with the Black's and so on until everyone is in the correct grouping.
The laundry is so stuffy the men have pulled down their jumpsuits to their waists, white tank-tops and gang tattoos underneath. It's not uncommon for tempers to flare in such trying work conditions.

Jem wipes his hands on the thigh's of his suit, grunting with effort as he pulls down the press and starts to methodically fold the jumpsuits. Like always he throws them onto the cart to be taken to the storage room.

"Coughlin, take that cart to storage and get it outta here, will ya?" The guard calls. This guard knew Jem from his previous stint and smuggled him cigarettes on the odd occasion. The guy knew his mother and for once that counted for something. Jem pushes the cart into the storage room, automatically pushing the piles of sheets on the shelves. The work is tedious, routine and completely boring. But the inmates see the work as a way of getting out of their cells for a few hours, earning petty cash they can spend on snacks or even rent a television for a few days or buy a pack of cards.
Jem whistles as he works, something
normal to his day.

After his duties he would go back to his cell and take a nap, then it would lunch and then an hour in the yard. He's been in four months and the simple routine is killing him. He's not used to being told what to do.

Suddenly he's grabbed from behind and feels something tightening around his throat, his arms pulled behind him as hard punches make contact with his face, stomach and chest. Winded, he grabs his stomach and drops to the concrete floor. He coughs and spits out a mouthful of blood.
The thin piece of rope is pulled tighter around his neck, his calloused fingers trying to put a barrier between the rope and his neck. He gasps as the person behind chokes him, a rain of kick's and punches smashing into every part of his body.

"You're gonna be my bitch, Coughlin." The man who hasn't struck Jem spits into his face."Bend him over"

The men pin him against the wall, snapping his arms behind his back and tying them with a sheet. He is gagged and then bent over one of the steel work benches. The men hold him down, taunting and teasing him. They hit him, smashing his face into the table. Jem groans behind the gag and tries to kick out.

"You're gonna love this, Coughlin."

Jem's heart stalls in his chest as he feels his jumpsuit being pulled down to his ankles. Panic rises in his throat as he tries to push them off, to fight back and get the hell out of there. He tries to protest, but his head is forced against the cold steel. His boxers are pulled down and he knows what's coming. He knows he can't get out of this, not tied down and restrained by five men.

"Mmm your ass is mine" The big man growls into Jem's ear and pushes his erect member into Jem's rectum.

"Fuck!" Jem screams into the gag.

A searing hot burning pain radiates through his body, the pressure in his body agonizing. Tears sting his eyes, he can hear himself screaming inside his head. His body jolts with every thrust, hitting that table. Time has completely stopped for Jem, his head throbbing and he can see stars. Eventually he passes out.

When he comes to he is still being violated by one of the other men. They're taking it in turns to have their release, Jem still writing and trying to fight back underneath them. Finally, it's over. He falls to the floor, his boxers loosely pulled back around his body. He manages to walk a few steps and then collapses, the pain in his anus overpowering.

He wakes up in the infirmary, lying face down on a bed. An intravenous with morphine flows steadily into his veins, his vision blurry. It feels like he's been in a car crash or at least what he would imagine it felt like in a car crash, his whole body aching. He folds his arms underneath his chest, staring at that spot on the floor. The sound of approaching footsteps shakes him from his day-dream.

"How are you feeling?" A voice says from his side. Officer Henson, his personal liaison officer asks softly.

She's overweight, black-american and has a soothing way about her.

"Like shit" Jem grumbles.

"Can you remember what
happened? Who did this to you?"

She pulls up one of the plastic chairs and sits next to him. She had read the report, how he had been found practically naked in the storage room, badly beaten and bleeding.

"I dunno" he says. He knows how it works in prison. You don't rat on anyone. "I blacked out"

She nods.

"Jem, I know you know what's happened. What's been done to you. You were raped" Jem closes his eyes tightly, remembering."The damage...it was pretty bad. Thirteen stitches in total."

Jem buries his face in his arms and sobs.