Isaac’s mind came back into focus when he felt a hand slip into his. He glanced downward, happy to see Jared’s rough fingers intertwined with his. He immediately felt his stomach begin to settle.
“I’ll be right beside you the whole time,” Jared whispered in that gentle, confident tone that always made Isaac feel at ease.
It was nice knowing that he had someone by his side, supporting him, being there for him, and ultimately ready to jump over the table and strangle the man who had brought him so much misery.
His emerald eyes found Jared’s soft chestnut gaze. A calming confidence seemed to flow out of Jared and into Isaac himself.
Jared was his rock today. His firm, stable grasp on reality. He didn’t need to fear the ghosts of his past. Jared was here to stand by him and protect him if needed.
Isaac gave the confident man beside him a half-smile.
“Thanks, Jare.”
“Proceed. First door to your right,” the angry-looking guard muttered, nodding toward the gray door marked “Visitors.”
Swallowing hard, Isaac gently pulled his hand from Jared’s and followed a second guard toward the door.
They waited as an electronic lock buzzed before the guard pulled the door open and gestured for them to proceed inside.
The room was gray and dull, which seemed to mimic the feel of this place. Stale and hopeless. Prisoners had nothing but time on their hands and limited stimulation.
It must be difficult waking up each morning and having absolutely nothing to look forward to. The repetition of each day and the knowledge that tomorrow would be the same did not inspire a feeling of hope and excitement in the lives of prisoners. And this room reflected exactly that. A lack of hope and joy.
The room was bare, except for a rectangular metal table that looked just as hopeless as the room with three matching chairs set up around it. At the center of the table was a large metal ring, most likely used to secure prisoners in place. This placewasfilled with rapists and murderers, and God knows who else, each vying for the opportunity to take out their aggression and anger on any unsuspecting person dumb enough to let their guard down.
Secretly, Isaac was comforted with the knowledge that his uncle would be chained to the table. Not that his uncle stood a chance against Jared if he decided to jump over the table and try something stupid.
Letting out a sigh, Isaac pulled out one of the chairs and sat himself down. Jared gripped his shoulder, no doubt trying to show his support, before pulling out the chair next to Isaac’s and sitting down as well.
They both sat silently, watching the door at the other end of the room. Time seemed to slow as they waited. Five minutes became ten. Ten minutes became twenty, and just as Isaac’s nerves were beginning to bounce back, the door across the way buzzed and then opened.
A tired-looking man with black and white hair—more white than black—stepped into the room, shackled at his ankles and wrists. He was wearing a deep green jumper withPrisonermarked across the left side of his chest. Not that Isaac would confuse the man with a visitor or a guard anytime soon.
The man grunted as the guard shoved him through the doorway and into the room with Jared and Isaac.
Once he regained his balance, he straightened his back as if he were someone important instead of the low-life piece of shit who was spending the better part of his life behind bars.
The man’s mouth dropped open when he caught sight of who it was sitting on the other side of the table. He seemed confused as he locked eyes with Isaac initially. It was only after a few moments that his uncle’s shocked expression morphed into one of a sleazy man’s grin.
The guard escorted his uncle to the opposite side of the table, then handcuffed his wrists to the metal ring on the center of the table. The guard gave the handcuffs a quick tug to make sure that they were securely fastened.
“No touching the prisoner. Press the button on the table if you need assistance. I’ll be right outside,” the guard instructed before glaring at the prisoner and then exiting the room without waiting for a response.
Isaac watched through the small window in the door as the guard took his post right outside.
“Well, aren’t you the last person I ever ’xspected to see here. Glad to see you’re still alive,” the man said with a thick Irish accent. His cold emerald eyes burrowed their hate into Isaac. “Where you been all this time?”
Isaac placed his hands on the table, interlocking his fingers together. He hoped this would keep his hands from shaking and give him a look of self-confidence and age.
While he hated this man to his core, part of him still felt like that scared twelve-year-old boy hiding in his closet while his uncle tore apart his room in a fit of alcoholic rage.
“That’s none of your damn business,” Isaac grumbled, jaw tightened and teeth clenched.
“Oh, looks like someone grew a pair over the years.” The man sneered as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes drifted over to the man sitting next to Isaac. “Who’s this? Your butt-buddy?”
Jared leaned forward, biceps flexing as he moved in closer to Isaac.
“I’m the man who’s gonna knock your teeth in if you ever disrespect Isaac again.”
