残酷但并非不寻常(5)

Then I was outside, by myself. It was 7 a.m. I just stood there for a long time until a van came to take me to the bus station. It was like a dream. They gave me a ticket and I climbed onto the bus, and I was so overwhelmed that I slept for nine hours. When I woke up I was in the Port Authority Bus Terminal, which has to be one of the most crowded, crazy places in the world.
I remember folding up right there in the bus station. I didn't know it at the time, but I was having my first panic attack. I was sweating, and I could feel my heart beating in my chest and my eyes darting back and forth. I just slid down to the floor in a corner.

I remember a homeless guy coming up to me and asking if I was okay, and then he said, "Oh, you just came home." I don't know whether he'd been incarcerated himself, or had just seen things like this before in the bus station. But he knew what was happening.
The police came, and I told them I just got out. They escorted me out of the bus station. It's sad, but it made me feel comfortable again-being escorted by people in uniforms, and being told what to do. I was in such bad shape that the police sent me straight to the hospital, to Bellevue. And I didn't get out of there for several days. I was supposed to immediately report to parole once I reached the city. So within a day of leaving solitary, I had violated parole-and I ended up being sent back to prison.