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A married prison officer who indecently assaulted or had sex with inmates and . Cocks had said 'I've got one for you' and wrote down the porn. Hickey's now earned himself a place on the sex offender registry. and Sex Offender Matt Hickey Sentenced to Nearly Three Years in Prison. Homosexual sex is sex between two people of the same gender no matter where I was in the Feds and porn was not allowed unless the magazine had been.

Mostly, people do their time alone. Pacing the yard, or even just ignoring their cell mates completely. That gets to you more than anything. The constant suspicion, and knowing you're alone. Death I saw 12 deaths inside. Three of them were at the hands of screws.

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One of those was a gunshot to the head while a guy was trying to escape. The other two were beatings, and I didn't know they'd died until later. It's not right to call a prison shanking a 'stabbing' because that's not how you die. Inside, we called it 'digging a hole' or 'digging a well' like 'he got a well dug in him' or 'pulled out a hole'.

The reason for this is the make shift weapons used inside are not easy to kill with. You basically make a hole as fast as you can, by stabbing as fast as you can, and then you try and get a grip inside it and just start pulling.

I saw this right up close one time. I had the distinct misfortune of having my cell behind a pillar, like a bulkhead kind of thing in the middle of the block.

So if you wanted to shank someone, it was a great place to hide. On the flip side, it meant the boss' gave it a lot of extra attention, which was bad for rubbing one out or taking a hit. Two guys were loitering around the pillar one day, waiting for this fresh kid to wander past. Prison gossip said he's been worked over on his first night by someone who wanted him for a wife, but the kid fought back and nearly bit some fucker's nuts off.

So his friends wait with a t-shirt, and a filed down toothbrush. They've cracked down on plastic toothbrushes, but there used to be enough of them that a lot of guys have them stashed away. You can file down the ends on the concrete to a point. One guy wraped a t-shirt around the kid's neck and lifted him off the ground from behind, and the other starts stabbing his gut.

After a few stabs, he starts trying to get his fingers inside and he just pulls all this meat out. I thought he was going to pull out his intestines like you'd see in a horror movie, but instead, he just pulls out fist after fist of this yellow jelly shit, and then big hunks of meat like raw mince.

Screw's arrived and tasered everyone. He was on his side, right in front of my cell, and every jolt from the taser made the big hole in his stomach smoke.

You don't see something like that and not have it fuck you up worse than you already were for being incarcerated. Getting Out On my last day I started writing this list in my head, and thought it would be funny to post it on the Chans.

But really, now I've written it, it's not funny.

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For lols, I was originally going to talk about prison rape. It's a small part of doing time. On any given block, you might only have a dozen or so convicts who are likely to rape someone. And they go after the same kind of convicts every time too. Because if you try to rape the wrong guy That's not to say consensual gay sex doesn't happen. I had it, and I enjoyed it. I'm not going to go and fuck a man on the outside, but a combination of drugs, lonliness and boredom do strange things. So instead of rape, the thing that tops my list was getting out.

After 18 months, I felt like I had the whole prison kick down. I felt like I belonged. New guys looked up to me, like someone who'd seen shit and made it through. As I scaled back on my pretty huge habit, I started to get this kind of zen calm about incarceration, and I liked to think I helped a few guys through their first weeks.

The last months before I left was the happiest of my entire life. I started making lists, like this one.

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Lists of what I was going to do. Lists of things I was going to eat. Lists of places I was going to go. I almost felt like I'd had a near death experience, and now I had to live a better life. Two years is a long time. The world literally changes without you.

I got off the bus and went to my favourite bar. I went to a cafe my friends used to touch dicks at. None of them were there. I went to my house, pulled the boards off and went inside. Everything was just as I'd left it with two years worth of dust. Most depressing thing you've ever seen. I lay down on my bed and paranoia started setting in. I realised I was pretty much squating and was paranoid about being picked up by the cops and breaching my parole, so I went to my parents house.

They let me in, but told me I couldn't stay until they were sure I was off the drugs. I checked into a motel and sat on the edge of the bed, watching MTV and ordering Pizza.

I must have ordered like five pizzas from five different places, stayed up till dawn. Thing about prison, is that sleep becomes like a chore you do each day. You're never really tired, so you never really want to sleep, it just breaks up the time.

I felt like I didn't want to sleep ever again. Next morning I decided to go for a drive, and thought I'd rent a car - but my driver's licence had expired. I went to get a new one, but because I'd been inside they needed me to get a letter from my parole officer.

So I just wandered around for a day. Felt like everyone was staring at me. You just feel completely lost. How would you pay for drugs? You have money in prison? You get a tiny allowance, but you spend most of it on food. The best and most effective way to score is to have someone on the outside pay your man's person on the outside. My preferred method was to get a bank account and deposit on using phone banking. At my worst, I was using a monthly phone call to transfer cash to my dealer's mom instead of calling my own mom.

He was actually a cool guy, apart from being an AIDs infected drug dealer inside for a double rape. If you don't have a set up like that, you can trade for candy. Weird, but that's how shit works inside. A big bag of Reece's Pieces would get you an eight ball. I've known a few people who have been to prison, and the things I've heard frighten me to death about ever going.

Did you ever have to fight while you were in? Or at least get your ass kicked? Fighting wasn't as bad as it is on the outside to be honest. Drugs are just so pervasive inside that fights are over pretty quickly.

You know, in my few sober moments, I wondered if maybe the screws weren't partly responsible for getting so much dope inside since it made us all pretty much zombies. I got in a few, more than a few really. But I never really felt like I won a fight. Fridays, if you could keep track of days, were the absolute worst.

It was like our brains were programmed to feel pumped up on a Friday for the weekend, but then you'd realise inside that all you had to look forward too was another two days of the same shit. You'd start a fight with anyone, over anything on a friday. Only time I ever started a fight was over Dr Pepper.

I don't know why, but Dr Pepper was the only thing that ever made me feel better about my fucked up situation. You could get Dr Pepper in these really small plastic bottles, like on planes, but they were the least cost effective snack in the store. So i'd pretty much save up for one every now and then, smuggle it back to my cell on a Friday, chill the fuck out with my tape deck and drink it really slow. One time a guy stood over me for my Dr. Pepper and I completely snapped and tried to ram the thing up his nostril.

Scored a week in solitary, and just as extra kick in the guts - store staff were forbidden from selling me Dr Pepper. Apart from that, I was mostly getting the shit beat out of me by Aryans for consorting with niggers.

Broke two ribs, my collar bone, my nose twicelost two teeth they were weak as shit from a diet of candy and smack anyway but blissfully, was raped only once - by a homiegot with the tiniest cock you've ever seen. I'm a fat fuck, and I swear that thing barely reached my asshole through my enourmous ass cheeks.

It was all I could do to not laugh. I too am very glad you're out, OP. Thank you for an amazing thread although not to say your experiences have been in any way amazing. You have a great writing style, by the way. Very compelling and interesting.

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Is it true that there's a hierarchy in prison systems with armed robbers generally being considered top of the pecking order and rapists and paedophiles at the bottom? I'm assuming not given what you've said so far but this is something I've heard a couple of times before. Also, what are you planning on doing now you're out? What made you commit armed robbery in the first place? Did you make any friends in prison that you'd stay in touch with outside?

I know you said about the suspicion thing which sounds completely fucked up and a ridiculous thing for the authorities to want to do by the way but you also mentioned having a laugh with your cell mate so I thought maybe you might have. As for friends - not really.

I only ever had two. The first guy was this big truck driver who got busted with meth and was doing longer than me, probably because he was black. The fact I was white and well spoken probably went a long way toward me getting off light. I got some ink and had a pretty stupid haircut when I went in, which really sucked because any point of difference is enough to get you picked on inside. This guy, first thing he says to me is 'what did you rob?

He had a daughter who was the cute as fuck little scene girl - seriously, you ever see a half-black scene girl? We'd sit around all day and I'd tell him all the Odin awful things I was going to do to his daughter if I ever saw her at a Kaiser Chiefs concert and he'd tell me how many skinner sister homiegots she'd brought home only for him to beat up on. First thing he did was help me shave my head.

We'd figure out new and interesting ways of working out together, like dead lifting each other, dead lifting our bunks - we'd tie a pair of pants around the top of our bunks and one of us would hold it tight while the other would do curls on it.

He got transferred, and that was when I started using. I'd been thinking about it, but apart from using meth while driving, he was a pretty straight edge guy and I didn't want to disrespect him by getting high with him there.

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My second cell mate was this kid done for weed. He was scared as fuck. He wet the bed every night he came in for weeks.

Worst thing I ever did to another human was share my junk with him. At the time, I just felt like it would help him adjust - but some people really can't handle it, or else seem to become addicted way to fast. I know my own limits, and know it takes a steady habit for months to get seriously hooked.

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He was getting the shakes after a few days without it. One day he comes back for lock down, takes a hit and after a few minutes says - this isn't H, try it. We both did it and ended up giving each other blow jobs. Afterward, things were pretty awkward until I said, you know fuck it, we're in prison, let's make a deal that if we can score for ecstacy again we'll get each other off.

We were good friends after that. He got out before me, and I definetly don' think I'll look him up. Jesus God of Thunder on a shitty dick, American prisons sound downright inhumane. Really, I don't know what to say here. How're you acclimatizing back to normal society? What about your old friends, your family, anything? What are you going to do next anyway? Well I'm on parole for the next year - but it seems downright impossible to find a job.

I've got some money saved up and my plan is to get out of the States, head to Europe and find bar work. I haven't seen a soul I knew before since I got back, and I'm almost scared of seeing them now. I can't help but feel like I need to get away, but the Corrections system makes that pretty hard. I'm thinking about maybe skipping parole and heading south, crossing the border in the Mexico and then catching a plane to London.

If that's true I'll have to wait. Well tonight, I'm going to start on Wikipedia and read the entries for every single day I've missed since I was inside. Apparently Lady GaGa is huge now, who would have thunk it?

I heard new guys talk about her inside but we don't exactly get the news. There is two years worth of music to get into, which is probably the thing I'm looking forward to the most.

Then I'm going to hit Encyclopedia Dramatica and find out about all the memes I missed out on. Thanks for reading my story. You see the pointlessness of life in prison. The worst part is how used to it everyone else in there is. They've seen their fathers, their grandfathers, their brothers and uncles go away. It's almost a part of life for them. Wasting a decade inside just doesn't seem to matter to them anymore. I'd imagine it only works in scaring the shit out of some people.

One of the few things about prison I ever saw in a movie was that line - can't remember which film it was from - about there being 'inmates' and 'convicts'. About how an 'inmate' is a prisoner, they're scared, and they want to get out and never go back. A 'convict' knows, deep down, they're a criminal, that through their actions they've placed themselves outside the 'man's' law, and that status defines them. Prison works at scaring the inmate. Don't get me wrong, I never want to go back.

But as I've reflected on it, in my last few weeks and the last 24 hours of freedom - I've almost found a special pride in having made it through.

I was at a bus stop this morning and I struck up a conversation with someone, about how the bus was late, what she was listening to on her iPod, just random shit. And as we got on the bus I realised - that was me, that was me from before going inside talking, I'm still that person.

I was really proud for having wrapped that part of me up so tightly during my time that I kept it safe. It doesn't make me ever want to go back.

But it does kind of make me feel like I could survive it again. I think that is probably true for a lot of people. But for a lot of convicts, I think what brings them back is the adrenelin rush more than anything.

Committing a serious crime is a real rush, but life inside keeps you riding this constant edge - some people would get off on the paranoia, the violence, the constant tension.

You'd probably find a lot of paralels between the kinds of guys who keep signing up for tours through war zones and the kinds of guys who keeping winding up back inside. Sounds like they've created an environment that reduces that sort of thing, but some older generations I've talked to said they learned all kinds of pointers when they did time. What about any attempts at actual rehabilitation?

Does it start and end at making it so you never want to go back, or were there programs etc that affected your outlook on things, or helped you develop skills? I'm just curious as to what an ex-con's opinion on the whole "what the prison system is doing in practice" issue is, whether or not they're just removing criminals from society for a while and hopefully scaring some of them into not going back, or attempting to fix the root causes.

Every prison and county jail is different. From the way I figure it, in Michigan we have these low security camps for nonviolent offenders where they genuinely try to get you back on the straight and narrow with life skills, employment training, drug rehab. Then you have the ultra high sec - supermax or level 5, where they just need to do 'something' because the inmates are usually so bug fuck psycho they either are never getting out and need their psyches managed as they adapt to that reality - or else they might be getting out soon and they need to be certain they no longer pose a threat to society.

I was in a level 5 facility, they call in V inside because the State uses roman numerals and you don't find a lot of convicts know what roman numerals are. I Romans for that matter. To manage the population as it swells and declines seasonaly convict rates drop through winter. In terms of it being 'college for criminals' It's not really the case. Even in high security, with a lot of violent offenders, the number one crime keeping people inside is drugs. Most guys learned more about drug crime from TV than they did inside.

Are you really going to take advice about crime from someone who was caught? I heard so many bullshit stories your ears will bleed. About how eucalyptus oil prevents drug dogs from finding your gear. About how Glocks are really made of plastic and can't be picked up by metal detectors. Die Hard 2 came out 20 years ago and people inside still buy that story. No one would tell you they were ever busted dead to rights.

I heard so many tall tales about how the cash straped Michigan State Cops could actually track you down with in a few feet using satelites and cell phones A lot of interesting stories though, from dealers, about how to pick undercover cops doing 'hand to hands'.

I met one guy who had been done over so many times by UCs that he would actually give up a free shot to new customers, on the condition he got to watch them take it. Last time he went away, the cop took the shot, hit it, then arrested him and he got busted for posession, distribution AND assaulting a police officer, because 'forcing someone to smoke a pipe' is really assault and all. Once word got out that I was a stick up kid, I got a lot of guys hitting me up for information - this is actually really dangerous inside because you never know who is just an idiot that thinks prison is a crime textbook and who might be a snitch.

I was initially charged with 13 offences and was convicted on 2, so I was constantly paranoid about being re-tried on new evidence. I'm cool for cash. You could be, like, the next MLK Jr. I was picked up by highway patrol on a random stop.

In response to the other queries about the robbery - I posted something about it last night but quickly took it down.

I won't go into the actual crime. Got off so easy by changing my plea and taking the two charges the DA's office could prove right there, that I'm paranoid they'll charge me again if they think they could prove more.

It's not an especially cool story. I hope you enjoy your freedom now that you're outside. I hope you are able to get all of your shit back together. Thanks for the advice. It really is true about how the little things mean a lot more to you.

First thing I did was buy a real pack of smokes - because inside they're called 'free worlds', as opposed to chop tobacco. That's how you know you're free. Pack of Parliaments never tasted so good. How similar is the real deal to tv prison dramas? Of course i know tv tends to be far from reality and that prisons themselves vary quite a bit, but i am curious about what is similar and what is flat out wrong. I always imagined Oz was fairly accurate with the mindgames sort of stuff.

I'd seen Oz, and the only similarity to my lock up was the size. You imagine these big sprawling complexes with all the gothic architecture and shit, but Oz is pretty much right about your average high sec prison. Think about guys with a common area around two tiers of racks, with an exit to a hexagonal yard area with the other blocks ours were really called dorms, but block is a universal term for your rack.

In terms of other movies I've seen - American History X was total bullshit. There isn't just one guard in the showers, they're in front of perspex with at least a few watching the cons to make sure nothing happens.

The most accurate depiction of prison life you'll ever see is the 2nd series of The Wire. While I think that's set in a much bigger pen, the culture and the attitudes are note perfect. In particular, the attitudes of gang members, who despite what you think have this scary calm about serving time.

You could say I'm on the other side, OP. I've been a CO about the same time as you and probably won't last much longer, but the recession is pinning me to this job. But I'm about to say fuck it anyway and go back to school. I'm not a very good CO. Along with all the things you mentioned about the smell I don't think there has been a week since I started working there that someone hasn't fucked around with their feces it's the long-ass hours and freezing and the uneasy feeling that I could be one of them.

While I would never compare the shit I go through to the stuff that goes on inside, it is hard to hold a relationship, have kids, or have an active social life while being a CO. But most of all there are the pricks. Being a CO for any more than a year makes you a prick, and I'm not excluded.

And even then I'm nicer to the inmates than any other white CO I know. The whole experience has made me jaded and cynical and not just prisons but humanity. Make no mistake OP, you may no longer be behind bars but no matter how long your sentence is you are sentenced to a lifetime of unemployment even if you find a job it will be utter shit and being looked down upon.

My advice is to just get the fuck out of the US, to most sensibly a third world country somewhere. But by God if nothing else get the fuck out of Michigan and go out west or something maybe Canada, but they do scrutinize immigrant's criminal records. There are ways you can start a new identity, and as long as you don't look like a hard-ass convict with swastikas all over your face you might be able to throw dirt over your record and live a relatively normal life.

Good luck whatever you do. Respecting COs is probably the only thing that kept me alive on a few occassions, and I totally understood where a lot of them were coming from. In the beginning, it's tempting to be a smart ass but eventually, you realise prison is all about getting by.

And you get by with respect. Respect means a lot to convicts, but very few of them show COs any, because of this institutional mentality that sets in. I found that greeting shake downs with a respectful 'just doing your job boss' meant a lot to COs, and it affected the way they treated you.

I most respected the guys like you who were clearly just there to do a job and get the fuck out. Convicts can pick guys like you. You get to know shift changes like you know times of day after a while. Most of our shake downs would happen straight after a shift change the new guys were at their sharpest, and you could always pick the pricks because they were the ones who'd stick around 'in case some shit goes down' like they were doing everyone a favour.

But really, anyone who wanted to spend an extra second in that place had to be twisted in the fucking brain. OP, that is a wicked story you got there. I heard from a prison guard I met at a party that the guards will basically give the biggest bastards an extra pack of smokes or quart of milk so when shit hits the fan, the big dudes wont go out and make it difficult for the officials.

By "big guys" I guess I mean all the mass murders and fuck off huge buff guys who'd be pretty hard to bring down. Anyway, I hope you readjust to society OP, have some sticky. Only not smokes, guards don't distribute stock and snacks to convicts. The biggest thing in your life the COs have over you is visiting hours and phone calls.

But favouritism wasn't based on being a 'big guy' or who was most feared - those kinds of convicts were put upon the worst. It hinged on how much respect you commanded, if people would listen to you, and if you could actually convey a message. If people would listen to you, the COs would use you. The standard come on would be, when you were on the phone, they'd come up about 3 seconds before your time would be up and hang up the phone, then they'd say, there is gonna be a shake down, or a mass transfer, or a 24 hour lock down tomorrow.

They'd take you into their confidence and make it clear what was expected of you. Then they'd redial the number and restart the timer, effectively doubling your phone time. They tried it with me once and we nearly got into an argument about it.

I say nearly because arguing with a boss is always a bad idea. I was at my absolute worst in terms of using, but I wasn't a bitch, and I wasn't so fucked up that I couldn't get a word out effectively - so the boss says there is going to be a 24 hour lock down tomorrow because of an escape attempt in one of the other blocks, and he needed me to keep the peace on my tier. I basically said to him 'look at me, I can't keep my fucking pants up let along communicate a complex idea like that to my neighbours' but it's made pretty clear I have no choice in the matter.

That afternoon, I get a chinese whisper going about the lock down, but it's a dangerous thing. Because even though the other convicts know you're the guy with the info - some of them will be wondering if you've been tipped off because you're a snitch, or else some people just shoot the messenger when it comes to bad news - or stab the messenger.

I got away with it by blaming it on those fuckers from O Dorm. It was kind of funny because the boss' got wind of that, and forever after any bad news would be announced by saying it was O Dorm's fault we were all getting fucked.

You create a siege mentality and convicts will take anything. A funny thing about lockdowns - you know how the day before a public holiday people will go crazy and hit all the stores to stock up on food? It's like that inside. The reason the boss' always leaks a lock down is so we buy as much candy as we possibly can, as many smokes, and as much gear as we can cram up our assholes and go quietly back to our cells.

That particular lockdown ended up being 72 hours. As far as prison experiences go, they're the most interesting. It's kind of like going on a camp out. You often get guys 'hot racking', where they'll swap cell mates with their bros, or just apedophile groupon cells completely and move their bedding over to hold little sleep overs where they play cards and talk shit.

Strangely enough, as bad as a lock down sounds, they really brought blocks together in mutual hatred, and broke up the monotony. I often wondered if the screws didn't just throw them at random to keep us interested. You're such a smart and interesting guy, OP. I showed this thread to my flatmate tonight who never ever looks at anything on here as much as I bug him to occasionally and he was amazed by you. Not to suck your dick or anything but yeah, you're very impressive.

This is a question for later or tomorrow or something because you've got enough to contend with for now but what did you miss most about sex while inside?

Just the sex itself or the intimacy? I know there are cliches on both sides about that so I was wondering what your thoughts were. This is a really interesting question. So much so I went and had a smoke and a think about it.

You know how a lot of people that hang around these boards will say how they're desensitised to sexuality? How years of the most twisted porn the Internet's underbelly can offer has made them numb? I guess I was like that going in. If you had have asked me, the day before I went inside, what my ultimate sexual fantasy was I'd have said something stupid like 'Emma Waton, a rubber tube, two mexican fighting fish, a chainsaw and a bucket of grease'.

Now, I shit you not, my answer would more likely be 'a beautiful woman that loves me'. Every convict has a jack bank. Scraps of magazines, smuggled porn, that kind of thing. I used to keep mine under the inner sole of my sneaker. If you took a survey of what convicts keep in their jack bank, you'd be shocked to learn that mostly, it's women's faces.

The single most sought after item in the common area was the TV guide. Because you'd get full page ads for movies and beautiful women. Fucking up the TV guide was a hangable offence, since our TV was pre recorded and edited to cut out the news, and anything not G rated, you needed the TV guide to keep track of what you were missing out on.

As an aside, one of the most surreal moments inside was the Superbowl, all these convicts crowded around this caged screen watching a repeat of Blue's Clues - muttering about how the Superbowl was really on. It was like even though they couldn't watch it, they wanted to be a part of a national, communal activity. Two days later they replayed the Superbowl, with the ads and half time show taken out - no one watched it. How fucking weird is that? So yeah, I got side tracked while talking about the TV Guide.

The keeper of the TV Guide would be whoever scored it out of a mail bag. Usually the guy on mail duty. And after a few weeks, you'd ask, as nicely as possible, preferebly with a gift of candy, if you could take a look, and maybe later, in return for smokes - you'd cut something out. I cut out a half page ad for The Other Boleyn Girl. Actually, i'll find it an post it here. Now you think about the shit you can get with just three clicks from here.

You can hit up one of the porn boards and be jerking away in minutes. You'd probably even not jerk off to soft core porn, because just a few clicks away, you could see some whore being cranked by 9 guys and getting glazed with cum. I guess in the real world, where life is mundane and boring - you need those fantasies of dark sexual shit to keep you going. But inside, there is just dark shit everywhere. You don't want it in your head. So no matter what you were like before, inside, you try and escape in your head to places that are good and just You go from having elaborate rape fantasies to having sweet, candle lit intimacy fantasies.

Sounds gay, but it's true for most guys inside I think. It changes the way you think about women. When I went inside, I was full of bitterness over the mother of my kid leaving, I felt like my sister had betrayed me, so I left her - and I thought of some of the girl's I'd used in my life and felt like they were pathetic sluts.

But inside, I would have given anything to know just one of them loved me - and when I say love, I don't mean like, I'd want to marry them, or that kind of passionate, movie love. Just that they'd consent to being intimate with me. I don't think I mentioned it before, but I spent a few months inside under the impression that I'd been infected with hepatitis - thankfully I wasn't, but that really compounded this need for intimacy, because I felt like, even once I got out, a woman would never touch me again.

I should note too - there is a long running conspiracy theory inside that the boss' put something in the food that numbs arousal. The usual response to this is 'if so, why are you still jacking off to your mom? So anyway, this has all been pretty grim shit. So since I started with a list of the worst things about prison, I thought I'd leave [sic] with a list of the best things about freedom. Not sappy bullshit about your parents and sunshine - but things you probably take for granted because you've never had them taken away.

Laughter No one laughs inside. You might occassionally fake a laugh when someone does something stupid, or gets what they deserve. But inside you laugh at straight up irony. Nothing is really funny when you're locked in a concrete bunker with seemingly no hope of getting out.

When I went inside, my favourite things were horror movies and violent video games. But now I can't stand the thought of them. I've seen too much real violence for one life time. In a lengthy July e-mail to The Stranger, Hickey also denied three of the first rape allegations. But several women did come forward in this case, even more than the four who were able to file charges.

One of the plaintiffs, herself an attorney, highlighted the injustice of that fact alone. After he bought her a third one, she blacked out, she said. When I sat up, I realized there was towel on the bed, and when I asked him why that was there, he said that I had vomited. So I had projectile vomited over half his bed. And this man proceeded to sexually assault me next to my own vomit. One woman, 17 at the time of the assault, said through a victim advocate she was unconscious for 12 hours after she got home because of whatever substance she was allegedly given.

I thought it was my fault. I told no one, and isolated myself from friends and family. You knowingly deceived and lured girls. Because of you, my entire world was deemed unsafe. And while I can heal and recover, that day will affect me for the rest of my life. He took away my ability to trust. I don't know if I'll ever get that back. I'm so sorry for whatever happened in your life to make you this way. I know you didn't wake up one day and decide to be a serial rapist.

I hope you find yourself some way to heal.