I’m writing to you Tasha. Dear Tasha. I’m writing to apologize. I’m writing to you to tell you that I love you. To say I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry x10. Sorry a Million Xs. Here’s the truth, here’s what happened. I remember now. I took the phone out from its hiding spot because I was going to make the call, I really was, but I wanted to get high first, and I did, but then I forgot about the phone. I just left it out on the kitchen counter and went to work downstairs. STUPID THING TO DO. STUPID!! I crashed after and when I came back up I didn’t even check to see if I put the phone back where I hide it. I’ll never forget the look in your eyes when Ricardo woke us that night. I’m sure I looked a million times more scared than you. But when Ricardo showed us the phone, why did you tell him it was yours? Why??? I don’t know what to say except that I’m sorry. I feel super sick about it. I really do. I should have owned up to it and I didn’t. You gave it to me. It was my phone, but I said nothing. And now I have to go downstairs because there’s a meeting about the phone and YOU! All the girls are going to be there. I haven’t seen you since Ricardo dragged you away by your hair. When I get downstairs, I’m going to tell them the truth. I’m going to tell them the phone is mine. I can’t let them hurt you for something I did.
Tasha please forgive me. Please, please, please, forgive me! I froze when I saw you with your wrists tied. When they opened the door to the hole, I said nothing. When they untied your wrists I thought they were going to let you go. I was wrong. We locked eyes and I thought I understood what was going through your mind, what you wanted me to do, which was nothing. You could have stopped it. You could have told them the phone was mine. But you didn’t. You were doing this for me because you knew I couldn’t take the hole. You knew I couldn’t take the cigarette burns Ricardo put on your arms and legs. Somehow you knew I wasn’t strong enough. I almost spoke up when the door to the hole clanged shut. I swear it’s true. I almost said it was MY PHONE! MINE! But then I remembered when they put me in the hole. I didn’t know I was claustrophobic until I went down there. The thought of going back into the darkness again, into that crawl space, it made me shrivel up inside.
I knew for sure I couldn’t take what they did to you. I couldn’t handle it. So I just watched along with the other girls while Casper and Buggy held you down and Ricardo put his cigarette to your skin. I watched and said nothing because I’m a coward. I make myself sick!! I should just curl up into a ball and die. That’s what I should do. I should take a big handful of your blue specials and swallow them all and just die because I’m worthless and pathetic. That’s the truth. You screamed while I stayed silent. What’s fair about that?
Tasha, sweet Tasha. Here’s what happened after you went into the hole. Ricardo brought all the girls into to the kitchen for a “little talk.” A little talk, yeah right! He was trying to scare us and he did a fine job of it, too. He told us phones were not allowed but everyone already knew the rule. He said phones were contraband. I hadn’t heard that word before, but I figured out pretty quickly what it meant. It was something prisoners would try to get. Good word choice, because I guess that’s what we are. Prisoners. He said if we have phones, we have to give them to him now. He said there would be no penalty if we handed them over. That’s what he calls putting you in the hole and burning you with cigarettes. He calls it a penalty. No wonder I didn’t run, or call that Angie lady. If I got caught doing any those things it would have been a heck of a lot worse than a “penalty,” I think.
It’s been a full day now—a full freakin’ day. How much longer are they going to keep you down there, Tasha?
Another day gone and no you. Why won’t they let you out? When Ricardo came to check me for tips I told him he should let you go. He grabbed me by my throat and told me I should mind my own business. He told me my job was to make the clients come back for more of me. He took out his lighter, lit it, and held the flame up to my face so close I could feel the heat. I tried to pull away, but he grabbed my head and pulled me closer to the flame. Then he took out a cigarette and he lit it. He blew smoke in my face and he laughed. Then he kissed me and told me he loved me. He said I was still special. The most special to him, he said. Weird as it sounds, it actually made me feel good to hear those words. Good while you were suffering on my account.
No wonder I’m so effed up.