A Promising Youth

After being pulled out by the guards and beaten half to death, I was thrown into the confinement room. Instead of feeling fear, I felt an indescribable sense of security in the dark in the dark and small space.

No one could hurt me in this house of brass and iron. Above my head, the palm-sized air vent, mapping in a beam of light, looked like that beautiful girl.

“It will be fine”, I would always remember this sentence. Where there was darkness, there must be light. If I follow that light, one day I would find the meaning of living.

From then on, I fell in love with the feeling of confinement. The isolation and the taste of being able to fantasize about the beautiful girl without distractions became a rare moment of happiness in my life.

So whenever someone bullied me in the prison, I'd run up and bite them!

As long as I could not tear off a piece of flesh, I would never let go, because I have resentment in my heart. I treat all those who bullied me as my family to vent my anger!

So what if I got your head bashed in?

So what if I got clubbed by a prison guard?

All I knew was that after biting someone, I could be confined, and I could enjoy being in prison to have rare happy time.

And then later, all my cellmates were afraid to mess with me, they even thought I was a pervert!

Because I was the only one, who every time I came out of confinement, still managed to stay mentally sane, and the only one who was never afraid of being confined.

There was a time when I was unusually grumpy and my eyes were bloodshot because I could never swallow that anger. I hated my family. My brother had committed the crime and I was enrolled by a college, but because of my parents' partiality, I was a prisoner, and my brother, that uneducated bastard, went to my college under my name.

What made me terrified was that the pretty girl in college would consider my brother was me. My brother was horny and had a smooth mouth, so at that time I was afraid that the pretty girl fell in love with him.

and humble, but when I was pushed

was on his mind at the time was how to kill my parents and kill that bastard brother when

the people in the cell avoided me. The man sleeping in my upper bunk held urine at night,

in my heart gradually decreased. I never believed that prison could change a man, and

words were like spring rain, sprinkling dew on my parched heart, stitching up

were called upon to actively study culture. The city launched an essay campaign to create a prison culture newspaper, encouraging inmates to actively submit articles, and those who wrote well and could

a great opportunity when

early to find that girl and tell her that guy wasn't me. He was my brother and a total

be fooled by him

soon as I could, I headed to the prison library. Over the course of a week, I wrote over 2,000 words in

the specifics content, but

darkness we are in, there is always

always be a glimmer of goodness in the world, even though

will be fine. Despite life's numbness, we can't give up on

as I wrote. I had poured all of my encounters over the years into the tip of my

culture newspaper, the front page of the first issue, had set off a frenzy of thought even in

treated me with respect and awe. Therefore a tiny sense of accomplishment grew within me. A feeling of being recognized by others

later, I inexplicably transferred to another prison, which was

the average prison. The cells were double bed, and it was here that I met the

his early 40s, with dark hair but

you get into

first sentence he said

“Wrongly accused.”