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One tiny bathroom and closet, and another closet-sized impression of a kitchen.
Nowhere but Barstow and Prison
Nothing bloody or long. I stole from anyone, even family and neighbors. I could not find any familiar spot inside of myself able to relate to the bars, the concrete, and the steel, to the guns, and the guards barking out orders to hurry and eat. I gave up, remaining silent in class and never raising my hand. I had been sleep-walking for nineteen years, and now I had awakened. I felt nothing inside when we took from others.