The dreariness of the landscape reflected exactly what everyone felt, as the line moved forward, one equally stone faced person at a time. The metal bars slid open and I stepped into the chain link fence-lined walkway. There was a loud buzzer and then the metal door swung open. This gloom hung over me the entire week, knowing I’d be visiting.

I took everything out of my pockets, checking it in at the desk. I’d learned over the years not to bring anything in I didn’t want “lost.” I dropped my wallet with almost nothing in it and my phone into the plastic bin then I stepped through another set of metal doors. Flecks of the beige paint and plaster from the walls littered the floor. I could taste the metal in the air. I hated coming here. I hated it more than anything, but it was my duty. The visits were less frequent since I moved to the other side of the country and that was my only reprieve, but I flew over on this day every year.

The visitor’s room was filled with other families, greeting their loved ones at bright blue tables with the stools attached to them. Now there was a term I used lightly because I didn’t have an ounce of love for the man I visited. There were little kids, sullen teenagers, and older people in their own little worlds in this room, trying to pretend this was all completely normal. It wasn’t, but it was my normal. I’d been coming here since my sophomore year of high school.

“Thorne,” the guard called out, as the group ahead of me left for their table. My dad sat on the far edge of the beige and concrete room at a table bolted to the floor. His face was drawn and gaunt. Nothing like how he looked when he showed up on our doorstep when I was sixteen. Had I known then what I knew now, I’d have shut the door in his face and never opened it again.

He looked a lot more haggard than the last time I saw him. It wasn’t like prison had a great health plan to keep you fit. He had his hands clasped in front of him on the table, deep creases in his forehead, his gaze darkening as he glared at me, impatient as ever.

“Killian,” he groused as I slid onto the stool that was attached to the table.

“Dad,” I said, folding my hands in front of me, resting them on the dented and dinged table.

“You finally decided to come visit your old man, huh?”

“I don’t live on the west coast anymore, Dad,” I said, using all my power to keep my leg from bouncing. He’d smell the weakness, always did.

“Well then I guess it’s quite an honor to have you show here for my birthday,” he said, his voice like gravel and nails in a tumbler.

“With interactions like this it’s a wonder I don’t visit more often,” I said, my temper rising. I clenched my hands into fists, but kept them solidly on the table.

“Don’t you forget why I’m here. All the dirty work I did for the Thayers before they went soft. I did this to protect your legacy, boy. To make sure you got what you deserved,” he said, his fists banging on the table. One of the guards stepped forward and my father relaxed his hands, spreading them on the table. You’d think after all these years he’d learn. But like father like son, I’d ended up dealing with the same shit he shoveled for years.

“Yes, I know. You remind me every single time I visit. Funny, I don’t remember ever asking you to do any of that shit for me. I don’t remember caring one bit about the legacy you were leaving for me,” I said, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

“It’s done and now you owe me. What would your mother have wanted?” He twisted that knife oh so well. Digging it in deep until I could feel the blood pouring from my gut. My mother’s suicide note always used to get me to do exactly what he wanted.

“You’ll be happy to know I have a parole hearing coming up.” The closest thing to what I’d describe as a smile spread across his face. My stomach dropped. Parole. How was that even possible? How did they let a murderer out after only fifteen years?

“How?” It was all I could croak out. My hands went numb and my throat constricted. The collar of my shirt, even with the top button undone, still felt far too tight.

“Got myself a lawyer who wasn’t a fucking moron. I’ll be out at the end of the month. Since you’re always trying to reinvent yourself, first as a rich preppy kid and now as the big shot at whatever business you’ve got yourself involved with, maybe I need to reinvent myself too. Take a page from your book,” he said, looking so proud of himself. I gritted my teeth.

It never failed. Every visit, it was the exact same thing. I’d clawed my way to where I’d made it with no help from him, but he always saw me as an imposter. A fuck up like him, who’d never truly make it. Never really be accepted in the rarefied circles of society. He’d been cast out the moment those handcuffs clicked into place.

“You cannot come to New York,” I said, forcing myself to keep my voice level. When he was here I could deal with him. I did my annual visits, paid my penance, but I couldn’t have him in the same state as me, let alone the same city. That was why I’d fled to the East Coast to begin with.

“I can go wherever the fuck I want to and don’t you forget it,” he said, his voice as hard as steel and his eyes slicing into me. “Don’t worry, it will be just like old times,” he said, like it was a fucking family reunion. I didn’t want anything to do with old times. Those father-son bonding trips still turned my stomach.

He’d only been convicted of one murder. The last job to clean up the last of the dirty deeds Rhys’s parents needed buried, to preserve their new altruistic public image. Then they died. They weren’t there to protect him anymore, so he’d ended up in prison.

Only one murder, but I was sure there were many other bodies buried. Buried to cover up the misdeeds of his employers. The misdeeds of the Thayers. While they got to live out what was left of their lives as the darlings of the press and the world, I knew the secrets that lurked beneath the shiny façade.

I stood from the table without another word, my dad barking after me as I left the room. My hands shook as each set of metal bars clanked open. Each one opening felt like a wave crashing over me, threatening to drown me under its weight. I wasn’t being freed from this prison, I was being dragged back into a life I thought I’d left behind. These walls served to keep a villain out of my life for the past ten years, but the monster might soon be free.

I needed to get back to the city. I needed to feel like I could breathe again. I needed to see Rachel. Just the thought of her made me feel lighter, like a lifeline thrown out to me when waves were crashing overhead, threatening to drown me. As soon as I was out of the prison, I practically lunged for my phone, snatching it from the tray.

Me: Hey

Rachel: Hey stranger, how are you?

The smile was immediate. I could feel the edges of my lips tugging upward, like they had a mind of their own. They knew something I tried to deny. It had been over a week since I saw her. Trying to prove to myself that I didn’t need to see her.

Me: Fine. I’m back in the city tonight. Meet me at my apartment at 9.

I’d planned on flying out tomorrow morning, but I needed to get out of here. I could get the next flight and be at the apartment by 8:30.

Rachel: Alright. Are you okay?

Me: I’m fine.

How the hell did she know from one text that something was wrong? I’d tried to keep my distance, but screw that. I needed her and I’d have her. Tonight.