I set my paintbrush down a few minutes after Bobby and my new lawyer leave.

I wonder why they want to try again. I am tired of seeing new faces every after two months.

My family keeps sending lawyers my way and I am seriously tired. Five years in this hellhole, fifty lawyers later and I am still here.

All the lawyers they send my way come with a motive of their own. If it does not involve my body or properties, then they will not stand in court. It fucking irritates me every single day.

The last lawyer was a little whore that wanted to get more than she deserved, she wanted me to marry her or for her to get half of my properties.

No one will get anything I worked hard for without me fighting. I have lost so much in the name of surviving and I am not losing anymore.

People think that I want to lose everything in the name of freedom, but they are very wrong.

I live in my own space in here, it does get suffocating and lonely, but I am used to it.

I am used to leaving the place every after a week. I am used to the screams I hear. I am used to seeing pain in the other prisoners' eyes.

I am used to the pain that comes from living.

I sigh walking out of the painting room, my mind disturbed.

The new lawyer or intern, as Bobby said, will be wasting her time on me.

No one in the past managed to get me out of here and I doubt she will.

I can not blame anyone though, it is my fault that I am here. The crime I committed, or was accused of, is not the only reason that I am here.

I can leave this place with a snap of my fingers. But the urge to prove everyone wrong is so fucking strong.

I have gotten tired of the accusing eyes, I know that I am not a saint and I do not wish to be.

Saints think they are better than everyone and I hate that.

I am a believer but the I know it all people, the you have to live accordingly irritate me.

My mother was a church lady and my father was a pastor. I was a child that grew up in a church, surrounded with people of righteousness.

I hit my teenage years and everything started falling apart.

I joined a gang in my teen years, started sneaking around, partying, smoking, drinking, drugs and so on, when I was very young.

I had my very blunt at the age of thirteen, my parents caught me a few months after I got addicated. I remember the disappoinment in my parents' eyes as they saw their only child going in the wrong direction.

My parents' took me to the church for prayers, but nothing worked. I got worse.

I started hitting the club at the age of fifteen, met a gang leader the same night and I got hooked to the drugs he gave me.

I became a devil's child. The people would run away and my parents disowned me. The reason they disowned me was because I was a disappoinment.

"I am a pastor and your mother is part of the praise team. We are both respected people. You will end up bringing our name to the mud with your behavior. It's better we have no relation with you then see the gates of hell."

I remember the words as I strip out of my shirt, my feet stepping on the cold titled shower floor. The cold water hitting my body as the memories hit me.

"We wish we had someone better. We should have been given a child worthy of our name. We seriously wish we got a better child. Look at the way the church looks at us. We can't even control our own child, how do you expect the people to trust us?!"

Their words hit me with each passing second. My back hits the wall as my eyes close.

"You are a failure, a devil's child. You are a fool. I wish you died in your mother's womb!"

My head hurts with each memory. My vision becoming blurry with the water that drops on my face.

"I wish your sister survived. I wish you died instead of her. Why didn't I miscarry you and not her?!"

I feel my body shake as my mother's words replay in my head.

"You won't survive without us. This world isn't for the evil like you! You will come back, running to us. Do you want to know why? Because you refused to accept the path we created for you!"

I open my eyes, leaving the shower with my sweatpants on, walking towards the small sink, leaving wet footsteps behind. I grab the small pack of razor blades walking back inside the shower.

I sit on the floor as the memories come back full swing, my head hurting like an earthquake.

"You see what we told you. We told you that you wouldn't survive. You are locked up in this hole and you aren't getting out anytime soon."

My father's words replay in my head as the cold metal comes in contact with my pulse.

"You should have accepted the path we set for you. You would be in the church or in an office right now. You could have been a lawyer, a doctor or accountant by now. But here you are in jail. Not any jail, a supreme jail. You will die in here. And just maybe the shame you brought onto our name will disappear with you."

My parents' words hit me hard as my blood moves towards the sink, moving down the drain.

I laugh as I remember how they left me alone instead of helping me. They are not even my family.

My family became the gang that everyone fears.

The people everyone calls evil accepted me when the people that were suppose to be with me left.

My life is a mess but atleast I am not living like the others.

I have a good life in here, and maybe after I am proven innocent I might live to face the dark world that awaits me.

My eyes slowly close, my mind becoming blank. I lose consciousness as my head moves, resting on my shoulder.

But I can still hear the footsteps that enter the shower.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.