Noah
The drive from Yorba Linda to the Men's correctional facility in Corcoran was just over three hours and I spent that time between feeling mildly justified and righteously pissed off. I knew better than to be a fool. It took Candey three years to crack me and have me bleeding love for her all over my world, I was a fool to think that in a few short months Bright could encompass my world and my heart so easily.
Trust was a lifeline to me. I lived and died by it and now it has once again destroyed any path other than hate. I had to destroy the hate, I had to place it where it belonged once and for all before it destroyed me.
I see my sister, beautiful and kind, loving and strong. I see her broken and ruining the things that are there to empower her over one mans hatred for his children. Tears burn my eyes as I finally feel the need to rage and fight back. I always took what he gave me to save her, and she did the same to save me. Neither one of us realizing the power it gave him. It was addictive, he would salivate at our fear.
Just over three years ago
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask and look at the man I want to kill. He had been bothering me trying to reach me for the last two weeks and I finally agreed. We were supposed to meet today, but not until later. Showing up at The Joint was balsy. My sister was a mere hundred yards from him and seeing him would break her, shatter her into a thousand tiny shards.
"I told you I would see you today. Your time didn't work for me. So I thought I would come see Caroline instead." Looking at him, an older clean cut version of myself, dressed to impress and intimidate in his Seattle PD uniform.
"You have no right to be here, and coming in this joke of a get up won't save you, you sick fuck!" My voice was shaking in anger and spit flew from my mouth as I choked on my hate.
"Oh. I'm just reminding you that I won't be ignored any longer and that you had better be at your little tattoo shop tonight."
Just the sound of his voice made me violent. "Don't threaten me you tired piece of perverted shit. I can ruin you with a phone call, kill me or Carrie and that shit will end up on the five o'clock news."
He laughs like the fucking prick he is and I swear to God if it wouldn’t humiliate us I would blast his abuse in that video across the world. "I know what goes on in Tattoo parlors Noah. I can have the cops checking in every day until that shop goes under after word gets out there's drug deals and other illegal activity going on there." He reaches for the hair on the back of my neck and twists hoping to cause me pain, unaware I am immune to his touch. "I'll never stop until you orphans are homeless."
"I'll be there you sick prick, but come near my sister again I'll fuckin gut you like the pig you are."
He laughed as he left and I puked when I saw his car pull out on the main street. I dialed up my old contact, my tried and true and told him to meet me at my shop in an hour. I faced that twisted fuck with a high unlike any I have ever had. I promised him my fealty to remain quiet if he remained far the fuck away. He agreed to sign at the trust meeting and I would keep my chamber of my .45 loaded in case he thought I trusted him and his word.
I only trusted one person on this earth and she was who I would die to protect.
Stepping foot in Corcoran, it wasn't what I expected. The waiting area was decent. I expected it to be dirty with gag taggings on the walls and scary looking people in line to see societies scariest. Instead I was greeted by Christine, a middle aged woman who definitely held that look of don't fuck with me, but still polite.
"So I don't think I am on the list to see an inmate but I spoke with my attorney about an hour ago and he should have faxed some paperwork over to give me for victims rights?" I ask as I hand her my ID and second form of identification.
"You're a victim?" She asks and scans my driver's license.
"Yes ma'am. Dear old dad is quite the fucker." I say it without an ounce of sarcasm and absolute brazen truth and watch as Christine laughs, whole heartedly at my statement.
She gathers herself and dries her eyes before taking her serious tone. "Well for victims rights we will review the documents and they will dictate guards who are present to avoid fear in contact."
"Contact?" I ask because he needs the glass between us. If I get contact I'll kill that slimy fucker.
"This prison is one of the few that offer contact visits when chained and with guards present. Its reserved for family."
"I don't need contact. I have no desire to be that close to him."
She nodds in understanding, definitely not something I am used to when talking about my dad. It makes sense though. I assume Christine has dealt with the worst kinds of humans and that not all visitors are excited or here with loving condolences. I am only hear because they protect him from my hands sucking the life from him.
He was imprisoned in California due to the fact he had sent so many criminals to jail that his life was in grave danger once sentenced. Even in jail he was hidden in an area reserved for the legal elite. Prosecuting attorneys gone rogue, former officers, and any other civil servant sworn to protect and uphold the law and who failed epically. Anyone who may have a high hate pool for lack of a better term.
"Well then, Sir in that case there are no lists approved or special requests. Visiting hours are ten am to two pm every weekday and twelve to nine on Saturday and Sunday. Now I will need to check and make sure he hasn’t had a visitor today because it is one a day…" She types away on her computer before looking at me with a sad smile. "He has had none, in a while actually."
"Well, like I said. Quite the fucker."
"Honey aren't they all." She says and gives me instructions before going through the metal detector.
After practically stripping she hands me a key to a locker. "Put your personal effects in this locker and show the guard your key before heading back. We keep your ID with us until you return your key. You'll go to a waiting room first while the contact the inmate and bring him down. Once there they will bring you in and you'll have twenty minutes."
"I'm curious… will he know who is here to see him?" I ask only because the soulless douche bag would refuse my visit if they say my name.
"No. He has the right once he see's you to ask the guard to take him back."
I nod and put my belt shoes and hoodie back on and take a seat on a chair and wait. There's a TV in one corner that has Judge Judy playing on mute and I am too amped up to read the captions. In the other corner are a few broken old toys and children's books and I find it sad. The children that come to see their father or grandfather or whatever, left to play with useless toys while the adult tries to justify why it was fair to bring them there in the first way. I am no judge or juror, just seeing those toys make me feel like shit and really I just want to buy new toys so that the kids who are suffering with coming here have a better shot in hell at getting some joy from this depressing shithole.
"The twelve-oh-five visit is about to start. Line up against the North wall and wait for the guard to assist you." The automated voice gave the directions and I followed the other nine people waiting to go back, walked single file down some long ass cement hallway until I felt like I was underground. I showed the guard my key when at the door and he directed me to a door with a giant B on the front.
"That door will unlock and you'll hear a buzz that tells you that you may enter. Walk past the windows until you see your inmate. Time starts when the inmate accepts your visit and answers the phone."
I walk to the Giant B and wait for the buzzing and clicking. My heart is pounding and I am about to bail out and run far and fast when the buzzing and clicking starts. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and see her tears, her fear and the fact we both are still not at peace…
I walked through that God damned door and sat only when I was across from the monster under my bed.
