From the Ashes PROLOGUE The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force. Matthew 11:12 THE DEAD SILENCE SCREAMED DANGER. Frenzied squeaks of jail-issued blue deck shoes on sealed cement followed by wet smacks, fast pops, loud cracks, and finally a dull thud confirmed it. A guy lay crumpled on the range floor, our range quartermaster told us. He wasn't conscious. His legs were seized straight, quivering uncontrollably. He had pissed and shit himself. We didn't need to see it with our own eyes. The unseen, the unknown, in jail is often worse than the seen, the known. The next day, after cell search, I heard that he had died en route to hospital. Someone said he'd stolen a bag of chips from another inmate's canteen, but who knew? Who cared? It was jail justice. The thief got what he deserved. According to us, according to society. At least that's what I told myself. All I knew for sure was that I didn't know anything and I hadn't seen anything. I'd only heard it, but I wouldn't even tell the guards that much. I had to survive, and the only way you did that was by keeping your mouth shut, turning your head away. What was I doing here in jail anyway? Why had I put myself in the midst of this filth, this horrible violence? The answer was simple. I did it to save my leg--and my life. Excerpted from From the Ashes: My Story of Being Métis, Homeless, and Finding My Way by Jesse Thistle All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.