I hope this chapter is good because I seriously lost my inspiration to write after the election results smh.

How the fuck did Trump win after all the shit he's said and done?! This double chin ass nigga cheated, Hillary should've won.

I don't like Donald Trump, never will and he damn sure ain't fit for the job. The only reason he won is because of these brainwashed Republicans. He's not my President and never will be.

My President will forever be black.

Okay I'm done ranting. I hope you Republicans have a great four years with your President.

So if this chapter isn't great, sorry. And it probably won't be as long as the other chapters because I'm not inspired to write 2000 words.

But the prologue for The Wizard of OZ is coming next week so that's something for me to look forward to.

                                    |Recap|

"Lights out ladies! Lights out!" he chuckled after closing my cell door.

Lights out? It's only seven 'o clock.

I definitely can't get used to this. I sat on the edge of my bed with my head down. Here I am with my hair braided and wearing a prison uniform because of a stupid ass crime I committed.

I'm going to die in three years. I should just go find a spot in the cemetery and start digging.

Scooter is dead and now I'm next. I would rather dodge bullets in the army than deal with this.

Before I was assigned a cell and uniform, I was informed about my execution.

Date of execution will be March 26, 1995. They wanted to electrocute me by the electric chair but decided to change it to lethal injection.

Time of execution will begin at approximately 6:20p.m.

Death by lethal drugs? I'm not going to let them put me to sleep.

I slowly walked inside of my cell and noticed that I don't have a roommate because there's only one bed. It was about the size of a bathroom and there's only enough room for push ups, sit ups, and squats.

"Lights out ladies! Lights out!" he chuckled after closing my cell door.

Lights out? It's only seven 'o clock.

I definitely can't get used to this. I sat on the edge of my bed with my head down. Here I am with my hair braided and wearing a prison uniform because of a stupid ass crime I committed.

I'm going to die in three years. I should just go find a spot in the cemetery and start digging.

Scooter is dead and now I'm next. I would rather dodge bullets in the army than deal with this.

Three days later

After spending my first three days in prison for death row, one of the guards informed me about a man who's interested in speaking with me.

His name is Thomas O'Neil and I'm guessing he wants to help me out for whatever reason. Not interested in speaking with anyone unless they're willing to get me out of this place.

Ever since I was assigned a cell three days ago, I stayed to myself. I didn't communicate with anyone and simply just stared at the walls.

Let me tell you, nothing in your previous life prepares you for living on death row.

While inside, your life doesn't have a purpose and these guards doesn't give a shit about you. It's only been three days and I've already received so many death threats. Yeah, this isn't exactly an easy place to stay alive and it's every man for himself.

I let my fans, friends, and family down. If only I could go back in time and just walk away from everything and everyone...

Scooter and I had a fallout years ago and we didn't speak to each other until late 1990 when we robbed that bank with Lucky.

Death row makes you realize that while you're waiting for your turn in the execution chamber, you'll learn that your reward for surviving today is that you get to suffer tomorrow.

The guards tell us when to get up. When to take a shower. When to eat. When to go outside and when to sleep of course.

This isn't the kind of place where you can survive on your own even if it is every man for himself.

But one thing's for sure.. we were sent here to die and there's nothing that we can do to change it.

"Wake the fuck up ladies. Here's your breakfast," one of the guards spat while pushing a breakfast cart past each cell.

When he approached my cell, he slowly opened the door and sets my plate down.

"Good morning Wright. After you're done eating, I want you to clean the urinals. Then get ready to meet Mr. O'Neil because he really wants to speak with you."

I raised a brow. "Can I get a spoon?"

"Spoon?" he chuckled "aye boss! This idiot says he wants a spoon."

The head guard added, "a spoon? Well, tell that uppity rich nigger that here at San Quentin State Prison, the prisoners get what we decide to give them."

"Here at San Quentin State Prison, prisoners get what we decide to give," he repeated.

"And tell that faggot that if fresh meat have a problem with the way things go here, one of our prisoners who's been here longer would love to watch you drop the soap."

"One of our prisoners who's been here longer would love to watch you drop the soap."

The head guard chuckled and walked towards me but I didn't flinch.

"This is only your third day boy. You have a long way to go. Your execution is scheduled in 1995 which is three years away. But if you piss me off or step out of line, we're going to speed it up for you."

"You heard the man. He's the head guard so he as well as the Captain is in charge of everything. Remember that boy or they will put a bullet in yo head. Now eat ya damn grits. And hurry up so you can clean those urinals."

They left without looking back and slammed my cell door behind them.

I grabbed my bowl of so called grits and noticed that they're undercooked and served on styrofoam plates.

Yeah, I would definitely prefer dodging bullets in the army.

So they're obviously not going to give me a spoon and I am hungry so I have no choice but to eat with my hands.

I grabbed a small chunk and stuffed it in my mouth, chewing because they're not done but I don't care at this point.

Here's another problem; napkins.

What was I thinking? If they're not going to give us a spoon or fork, they damn sure aren't going to give us napkins either.

I look around my cell and there's nothing that I can use to wipe my hands. They're filthy right now and I'm getting treated like an animal as well as the other prisoners.

I grabbed a bit more and stuffed it in my mouth. The food that they serve makes you want to go ahead and get executed, that's how bad it is.

After finishing the entire bowl of half done grits, I decided to wipe my hands with this filthy ass uniform I'm wearing.

The head guard makes another appearance and unlocks my cell door.

"Alright let's go pretty boy. Those urinals aren't going to clean theirselves," he spat.

I followed him to the bathroom which is filthy as well. There were a few prisoners taking showers and they're looking at me as if they want to... never mind.

"No fresh meat today boys. Wright is here to clean the urinals. Maybe another time," he laughed.

He led me to the first urinal and gave me a bucket of fresh, warm water and a clean rag.

"Get on your knees and do your job."

I did what I was told and began to scrub. This is a fucking nightmare. I should be back home in L.A. working on music and enjoying life.

"Make them sparkle. The only thing I want to see is my sexy ass reflection. And hurry it up! I don't have all day."

I rolled my eyes and continued to clean.

What the hell is up with this place? Everything here is filthy and dirty as hell. Our cells, the urinals, showers, gym equipment, everything is fucked up.

Before I began cleaning another one, he unzips his pants and pees in the urinal I just finished cleaning.

"Heh heh eh.. looks like this one is still dirty because you did a fucked up job. You can't do shit right can you? Clean it again," he spat.

I swallowed my pride and cleaned the urinal he just used. It took roughly twenty minutes for me to clean all of them. I threw the rag back in the bucket and shook my head before licking my lips.

"Yeah. Three more years of this bullshit," I whispered.

"Get up... I said get up," he spat.

I stood up and faced him.

"Get unchanged and take a shower with the rest of the faggots. After that, you're coming with me to meet Thomas O'Neil."

He grabbed his bat and began to escort me.

"Which way?" I asked.

"Right through there."

I stood in a corner by myself and took my clothes off. The other prisoners can't see me which is a good thing. I want to keep it that way.

After turning one of the showers on, I began to rinse myself off.

| Third Person |

"I have some business to take care of. Why don't you go have yourself a smoke?" one of the prisoners asked the head guard.

"Business? What kind of business?" he questioned.

The prisoner glanced at Eric before licking his lips.

"Oh you want the pretty boy? Okay. Well go ahead. I'll be back in ten minutes. Have fun and bust a good nut you sick bastard."

He nodded and slowly made his way towards Eric.

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Cliffhanger oop