By Joshua Ryan
It was a strange-looking room. What you saw was a line of long metal benches, the kind of benches that are big enough for a guy to lie down on and spread out his arms above his head. The benches were lined up parallel, every few feet. And you could tell that guys were supposed to lie down on them, because they had cuffs and shackles at all four corners.
At the head of every bench was a table, with some metal instruments arranged on it.
The panic was rising again, but I didn’t have time to panic. “Go to the drain, boy,” the officer said. He was pointing to the wall across from the line of benches.
I went to the wall. At the bottom I saw a thing in the floor like a gutter, or a big pipe with the top cut off of it. “I want to see you piss, boy. Do it now. And make sure you squirt it all out. We don’t want any accidents later on.”
