Michigan, Camp Allegan, August 1, 1981

Crushing pain startled me awake. My arms and legs shook outward in panic. I reached for my head. A pounding headache. Why? A heavy studded boot stepped on the side of my face. That’s why.

With my head planted to the ground, I felt the panic spread from my brain to the rest of my body. Lightning struck and poisoned me, unable to escape my body.

I was hyperventilating. My brain screamed for escape. As much as I tried, I couldn’t move the weight off my head. I took short breaths, sucking in the moist air of the night. The smell of freshly crushed grass mixed with the vile odor of artificial rubber of my captor’s boot. I tried to pry it off. I dug deep under the sole with my fingers and tried to lift.

My other senses gradually came back in between pulsating throbs of searing pain. My eyes opened wider, trying to regain focus, and that’s when I spotted the shadowy outline of the prison barracks in the distance. Spitting out bits of gravel and dirt, I fought hard not to scream.

Remnants of crushed rock macerated into my right cheek. I felt the thick knobby rubber tread of the combat boot pressed against my skull. The tormentor holding me down shined a flashlight into my face. I narrowed my eyes.

“Prisoner, explain yourself!” a shout boomed from above me, alarming the nearby crickets into silence.

I knew this voice. Blood raged inside my veins. He lived to taunt and torment. My rage exploded.

My fists, clenched with a volatile mix of rage and disgust, smacked at his boot. Get. Off. Already! I really wanted to scream that out loud, but knew I had to restrain myself.

Raucous laughter burst from my captor, loud and hollow. That’s how easily he dismissed my vigilance, my counter to his boot. I stayed silent, knowing my screams of agony would only thrill and excite him into more violence. This usual pretentious show of bravado could only be gap-toothed Tracy. Ever since the first day, his commanding voice was an octave lower when ordering us around. No doubt he had an audience building and was swishing his greasy seaweed bangs to the right, just like on Collection Day. I clenched my fist, digging nails into skin.