“Whataya think Cooter? Pretty exciting stuff, huh?” I provoked him.
“I can’t move… I can’t breathe… help me… help me get out of here… I need to… to take… to take a shower…” He could barely speak, his jaw visibly trembling out of control. Cooter’s phobia had caused him paralysis; overcome with anxiety, he was almost incapacitated.
Oh my God, what’ve I done? I felt so guilty. I’ve never wanted to see anyone suffer, especially at my hands. I escorted him out of the chapel and back to our unit, like a wounded soldier, where he climbed into his rack and curled up with his back toward me, wrapping his pillow around the back of his head, and holding it tight with both hands.
Excerpt from my book: “Pay To Play” My Odyssey from Multimillionaire Businessman to PRISONER #18099-424 http://www.paytoplaythebook.com