Stuart had my same brown hair, though his was graying. Same assessing green eyes, same nose, same jaw, same mouth that always had a little smirk, like he knew something that you didn’t and you were going to regret it. He looked thinner and paler than I remembered from the last time I’d seen him. He’d always seemed bigger in my memories and my nightmares.
A grin spread on my father’s face when he saw me.
“I knew you’d come eventually!” my father whooped. “Look at you, my boy, my son!”
I froze.
I had played this moment over and over in my head, imagining how he’d curse me, how he’d hate me, how he’d blame me, tell me I was worthless and try to make me feel small. I had prepared for all of it. Everything except for this.
My father regarded me with unabashed pride.
My skin crawled.
Just get it over with.
I sat down across from him.
Pretend this is a contentious board meeting.
“I told them all you’d come,” Dad said in delight. “Let me look at you. Stand up,” he barked.
Before I could stop myself, I stood up.
“My pride and joy. Come, sit back down.” He looked around. “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“Your lawyers. Where are they? My lawyer is terrible. They mistreat me here, and he doesn’t respond to any of my letters,”Dad complained and shifted on the hard plastic swivel chair, also anchored to the floor. “They keep me locked in a tiny dark room all day, twenty-three hours a day,” he said, speaking rapidly. “It’s inhumane. I don’t even have a window.”
“Ah,” I said, “first time?”
The dig didn’t even register to my father.
“They only let me outside once a day, and the walls in the rec area are so high I can’t see anything except for the sky. That can’t be legal. You can’t treat a person like that. You have good lawyers, don’t you, Grayson? My beautiful son, just look at you. I always knew you’d be the most successful one.” He reached for me.
I drew back.
“I didn’t bring the lawyers,” I said, voice cold.
“Next time, next time.” He nodded. “My parole hearing’s coming up, and we need to plan. I need to get out of here.” Dad looked around wildly.
“You’re the first visitor I’ve seen in… in years,” he said, squinting in the sunlight that streamed in behind me. “Can you believe that? Locking up a person like that. The guards never speak to me. They just drop off the food and leave. Can you believe it?”
He leaned forward, eyes glinting. “I have a plan, Grayson. Look, here’s the plan. I need you to buy this prison. I was reading about it in a magazine—billionaires like you buy prisons. You can buy this prison, and then you can get me a better cell. It can’t cost that much, right? You have money. You have a shit ton of money, right? Isn’t that a great plan?”
He finally stopped to take a breath.
I worked my jaw as he looked at me expectantly, like I was here to save him.
Fuck that.
“What,” I said slowly, “did you honestly expect was going to happen when you kidnapped all those girls? You didn’t think it was going to eventually lead to this?” I gestured to the stark cinderblock walls. “I mean, did you think at all? Did you think any of us enjoyed your torment, enjoyed being locked in a cellar with no sunlight?”
Stuart was indignant.
“You boys had a wonderful childhood. I gave you toys, your mothers all had each other—it was like a big sleepover.”
“No it wasn’t. It was hell,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
