Thug in Me by Karen Williams Page A

down in the mess hall. Some shit that wasn’t my fault. I was just doing what the older dude who came to my cell had told me to do. But the more I thought about it, I knew that I was defending myself. I had a right to do that.
    â€œYou think you special , mayata ? You trying to be a shot caller? Huh?”
    I kept walking.
    Another one said, “ Mayata , don’t you hear this man talking to you? You better fucking answer.”
    â€œMy muthafucking name ain’t mayata .”
    I knew what mayata meant. It meant “nigger” in Spanish and I sure as fuck wasn’t responding to that here or nowhere else. And if I got jumped for that shit, hey, I’d just take one for the team.
    â€œWe don’t give a fuck what your fucking name is. Just answer the fucking question.”
    â€œNo, I don’t think I’m special. And look, I don’t need this shit. I ain’t asked for no shit from none of y’all.”
    â€œWell, you got it.”

Chapter 9
    I took a deep breath and prepared myself for whatever was about to go down. I had no choice. I couldn’t stop them from whatever they had planned. I kept my back to them.
    â€œYou should have just given up the oatmeal, homes, and it wouldn’t have been a problem.”
    The blow came from nowhere and I found myself dropping to my knees.
    More blows came to my head, making me feel lightheaded. I was body-slammed and held down by one while the other continued giving me blow after blow.
    The ass-kicking they were giving me was similar to the one the police had given me in my house before I had gotten arrested.
    My face was in the dust in the track and I was being stomped repeatedly.
    I rolled over so that I was on my back and managed to grab one of the feet stomping me and knocked one of them off their balance.
    The other dropped to his knees in front of me and attempted to strangle me. I knocked his hands away then I swung with all my might, cracking another one in the jaw. He flew back from the impact.
    I stood to my feet weakly, hoping they were done.
    But they still came for me.
    I squinted my eyes and tried to see them, which was hard ’cause they were kicking up dirt from the scuffling, which was landing right in my eyes, blinding me and making it hard for me to fight both of them back.
    Before I could get to my feet, one guy held me down so the other one could fuck me up. He punched me in one of my eyes, making up for the lucky shot I was able to toss the one holding me down over my shoulders. Then I got the other one in his jaw.
    Before I could move, a fist was then slammed into my neck. I flew to the ground from the impact.
    They took that opportunity to both hold me down.
    â€œGet the fuck off of me!”
    My eyes got wide when one of them took out an object that was slim and sharp around the edges. I knew it had to be a shank. He clinched his teeth and aimed it toward my face. I struggled to get my arms free but couldn’t. He took a slice at the side of my face under my right eye. I had never been cut before and the shit hurt like hell.
    I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out as he cut into my skin, leaving an open gash that started bleeding.
    â€œDon’t fuck with us, mayata ,” he warned. He spit in my face. Then he pulled the shank back and aimed it toward my chest.
    That’s when I heard this loud sound, almost like a siren, and officers yelling for us all to get down.
    My arms were released and the dude that cut me slipped away.
    I remained on the ground.
    I watched as they pulled the two dudes away from me but left me there.

    That fight sent me on another trip to the medical unit to treat the cut and the other bruises. The doctor said it would be a permanent scar. It wasn’t that big but it was big enough for people to see and in the shape of a moon.
    Tyson was on the toilet. I was surprised they didn’t put me in solitary again. But it was determined that I was