Letter 6 - Nathan McCain

This is the sixth story of the book.

My name is Nathan McCain. I am a twenty-one-year-old African American man from Baltimore, Maryland. I grew up there at a red brick two family house on East Eager Street in the Middle East area with my mother, father, younger brother, and younger sister. My mother Deanna worked as a teacher while my father Devon stayed home raising us. Life at home was never easy for me because I would barely get any sleep when I would hear my parents yelling and fighting all the time. My parents would only have their arguments late at night because they felt like they shouldn't do it in front of us. I couldn't forget all the times he would comfort my brother Derek and younger sister Shensi.
             One night when I was eleven years old, I was having dinner together with my family and I decided to be open about the bullying I was facing at the Newark Elementary school on East Fayette Street. “Say Pop?” I spoke. “What is it, Nathan?” Dad said while trying to eat a forkful of food. “Dad, a boy named Kevin is picking on me at school.” I spoke. “What?!! Why is he doing that to you?!!” Dad said as he set his fork down on his plate. “I don't know.” I spoke. “Well...the reason doesn't matter. I want you to remember something. Don't ever let anyone push you around. Also, if you ever want something from someone make them give it to you. You got that!! That goes to you too Derek and Shensi.” Dad said. “Yes Dad!!” Derek and Shensi said. “Okay Dad I will remember.” I spoke. “Good!!” Dad said as he resumed eating his plate of food.
            The very next day was extremely hot for eleven-year-old me as I was sitting down on a swing while looking at the dark black asphalt ground, Kevin Gore, the school bully, walked right over to me. “Hey punk!!!” Kevin said. Kevin stood within an inch away from me. Kevin was a few inches taller than me in height but had a wide belly that was barely covered by his white T-shirt. The bully wore baggy black pants that were slightly sagging off his waistline but was held in place by the leather belt that he wore. On the other hand, I wore a t-shirt covered with Marvel comic book characters along with light blue jeans. I looked right up at Kevin and said, “What do you want Kevin?!!” “I want money to buy food from the vending machine. Give it!!” Kevin said as he began to reach for my pocket with his right hand. In that moment, I remembered what my father said which made me immediately say, “No.” “What did you say punk?!!” Kevin said. “I said no. I won't give money to you anymore.” I spoke. “You're going to pay for what you said punk.” Kevin said as he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt with his left hand. I gave Kevin an angry glare and punched him right in the groin as hard as I could. The blow made Kevin fall to his knees. I then punched Kevin in the face, making him fall onto the ground. All the other kids on the school playground watched me do what I did to Kevin, and they yelled, “Fight!! Fight!! Fight!!” Kevin used all his strength to get back to his feet and raced toward me. I immediately punched Kevin right in the face again which made him fall right back onto the ground. I then decided to jump right on top of Kevin and punch him with both fists till a chaperoning teacher came in and stopped the fight. From that moment on, I never allowed a bully to mess with me ever again.
           For the next seven years whenever a boy even made the attempt to put their hands on me, I would fight them off. My reputation of being a fighter led me to make friends with lots of other kids who enjoyed fighting more than learning. My lifestyle also led me to go to parties, do drugs and have sexual activities with girls who didn't even love me at all. I even got involved with gangs. Despite all the disastrous choices I was making deep down I wanted to find someone to love and be loved in return. I didn't see that what I was doing was making me feel miserable. Now at eighteen, I found myself going to school at the Marriot High School on Hilton Road. I only went to school because my mother would force me to go since I was still living with her. Because I cared so much about my life on the streets, I would usually wear a t-shirt covered by a throwback jersey and jeans sagging down so low my undergarments were in full view. One day at school, I had enough of being lonely, so I decided to watch a lone African American girl sitting alone at the lunch table. The young girl had long micro braids and wore a bright white sweater along with sky blue jeans. Out of motivation to live out self-confidence, I called the girl right over to me. I didn't see that that girl wasn't looking to get to know any boys so that led me to being rejected. I couldn't face the thought of that even happening, so I felt like I had to take a last resort to finally having a significant other. I grabbed right onto the girl's arm with one hand and put my other one into my back pocket. I pulled out my handgun and immediately opened fire onto the girl shooting her in the head. I kept an emotionless face as I watched the girl fall to the ground. As the girl's body made a loud thud and poured out a puddle of dark red blood staining the clean floor, I ran away from school.
          I ran through the streets of Baltimore and hid into alleyways keeping myself out of sight from the police. My shame and guilt from what I had done earlier that day led me to toss my cell phone in a nearby trash can so no one could contact or track me. Believing that I was safe, I decided to sit down on the ground outside of an alley. I stayed there for hours upon hours. Around my hiding place consisted of nothing but a dirty dark asphalt ground and trash cans nearby. I had no food to eat and nothing to drink. All I could do was look at the sky above me. While my pondering, I looked outside the exit of the alleyway and noticed a lone police car approaching the way. When I made eye contact with the police officer in car, I ran away from him. I did all I could to get away from the police officer. I hopped fences, jumped into people's backyards, and attempted to hide in garages. It didn't take long for me to get caught by the police. In a few seconds, that same police officer tackled me to the ground and placed my hands behind my back and put handcuffs on them. As I laid on the ground handcuffed, I pleaded with all the might in my voice and said, “Please officer. Please!! I'm sorry. I'm sorry for running away!! Please!!!” “You shouldn't have run away from the police in the first place, and this wouldn't happen to you. Matter of fact, why did you run away from me when I saw you?” said the arresting officer as he helped me get on my feet. “Because...” I spoke. “Because why kid.” said the officer as he searched my pockets. “I was scared for my life. I didn't know what to do when I saw you.” I spoke. “What?!! Kid you don't run away from the police when you see them. Now you got a case on you. I am guessing you ran away because you did something bad. You're guilty and you're running away from it. There's going to be no running away from what you did in this world kid.” said the officer as he led me right over to his car. I knew deep down in my heart that I was guilty of shooting that girl. The guilt hurt me like a beast went into my body and ate every single one of my internal organs. The officer decided not to hear any more from me, put me into the police car and took me over to the police station. On the way to the station, I kept my head down for the entire duration of the ride. When the officer got me to the station, I continued to plead to be let go. “Please let me go.” I spoke. “No.” said the officer as he put me into the cell. A few weeks later in a courtroom, it didn't take long for the jury to find me guilty of shooting the girl at school and I was sentenced to life without parole at the Patterson Correctional Center in Lochearn. I never forgotten the mention of the girl's name, Helga Mackey. Even in the courtroom, I begged for my life as the bailiff took me away. On the way to the prison bus, I walked in a line behind over a dozen other men of different nationalities. On the bus, I didn't talk to anyone, not even the officers who drove me to the prison. When I got to prison, I vowed to protect myself from the other inmates. I failed to realize that I gave up my freedom just to fulfill some selfish wish to get a girlfriend. While I was taking a shower in the shower room, I accidentally dropped the bar of soap, which was the only thing I could wash myself with. Since there were over a dozen other men in the shower room, they each heard the bar of soap thud onto the wet porcelain floor. One of the inmates, who was an African American man twice my size in height and weight approached me and said, “Hey!!” I turned around and said, “What?” “You dropped that bar of soap. We don't waste that here. Do you think you're just going to leave that there?!!” the man said as he pointed his finger at the soap. “Well...uh...no.” I spoke. “Well then good. Now pick it up!!” the man said in a loud angry voice. As I bent on my knees to pick up the bar of soap, the man immediately grabbed me. “Hey what are you doing?!! Stop!!” I screamed as I tried to fight for my life. “You are mine boy!!” the man said as he began to rape me. I screamed for someone to come to save me, but nobody came. When the man stopped what he did, he left me in the shower room while all the other men who watched followed him. I laid down on the floor all alone in that room until an inmate finally came in and helped me. I cried my eyes out wishing that that didn't happen to me.
              The very next day, I wanted to forget about what happened in the shower room, but it kept appearing into my mind. To drown my sorrow, I went over to the main dining room. While I was eating, the same man who raped me in the shower room sat at the chair right in front of me. I looked right up at the man and said, “Um why are you over here?” “I told you. You are mine and my name is Master Joe. Whenever you speak to me call me that. Is that understood?” Joe said. “Um...” I spoke. To make me talk, Joe punched me as hard as he could on my arm and said, “I said is that understood?” “Okay!!! Yes Master Joe.” I said as he tilted my head down.
            For the next three years while being in prison, my life has been turned upside down. It was so awful for me, I even forgot to smile. I had forgotten why I was even in prison. I lived every day of my prison life as Joe's slave fulfilling any request he gave me. Whenever I tried to resist Joe, I would get viciously beaten by him. Many times, I got raped by Joe and attacked by other inmates at places wherever correctional officers weren't present. Submitting to Joe's rule seemed to be the only choice I had to be able to survive a place like this. There were even times that I was robbed of whatever I had on me, even the very slippers I wore to cover my feet from the filth and grime of the concrete floor that inmates barely cleaned up. One cloudy day, while I was sitting at the prison recreation yard watching Joe bench press, an officer called for me. I looked right over to the officer and said, “Yes sir?” “You've got a visitor.” the officer said. “Okay sir.” I said as I walked over to the visitor room. I walked right over to the visitor room wondering who it was because not a single member of my family or my friends came to see me. I threw away all my reliance on other people since no one seemed to show me any care. The officer led me right to the visiting booth and I noticed that a young African American woman was coming right over to the glass barrier. As I looked at the woman, the memory of what I did three years ago came right back to me. The open of the memory bank made my head hurt like someone came up behind me and hit me with a blunt object. The jog of the memory became even worse since I recognized the clothes that the girl was wearing. I quickly held my head and looked right over to the girl as I picked up the phone to begin to conversate. “Oh my God. So, you survived. Do you remember me, Helga?” I spoke. “Yes, I do Nathan. I came here to get an explanation of why you did what you did to me.” Helga said. “You came here for just that? I shot you because...I wanted to date you but since you said no, I did what I believed I had to do.” I spoke. “You did what you had to do?!!! That's your explanation?!!! Nathan, you were only eighteen years old that day. Didn't your parents ever tell you that if a girl said no to you just walk away from her and move on? Did they ever tell you that?!!” Helga said. “Well, my mom did. My dad told me to make people give me what I want. He also said to never let anyone push me around.” I spoke. “Well Nathan, I see it now. You need to learn that if you ever want to hear the word yes from people you need to hear the word no from others too because you can't always get what you want. You are going to regret every day what you did. Now I wish you well Nathan. Goodbye.” Helga said as she got out of her chair and left the room. After having the discussion with Helga, I walked right over to my cell. As I got back to my cell, I decided to look out the only window surrounded by iron bars. I watched Helga and her mother walking right back to their car. As I looked at them, I began to shed a tear. Ever since the day I was raped in the very place I longed to get out, I barely cried. I then looked up at the sky and said, “Someone please get me out of here!!” I fought my heart of sadness as I wrote this letter. I hope that nobody lets themselves end up like me. Even as I cried out for someone to release me from the prison that I put himself in, no one came to fulfill my request.