The Mute Reporter

23- Present Day

Jensen Blackwell

The last place I ever want to be is here. In Colorado State Prison.

Listen, I didn't get arrested. I'm just visiting someone. Admittedly, it's reluctantly. This is the first time I'm visiting this person ever.

I took a few calls with them, and never sent back any letters. What they did was just unforgivable.

"Who are you here to see?" An officer behind a glass screen asks.

"Hayford." I grumble, and the officer says nothing as they tap things into their computer screen.

"He'll be expecting you in stall seven. Just pick up the phone to speak with him. You have fifteen minutes max."

I nod, and then look around until I see an empty seat under a sign that says seven.

I hate myself as I walk over with my crutches and sit down in the chair. My hands prop the crutches against the wall with no phone.

The other side is empty, as I'm still waiting for him to show up. I wish I knew why he asked me to visit him today.

The place is cold, and I tug on my black leather jacket closer to my body. It has LA embroidered on the left shoulder.

I can't have my phone out, because they confiscated everything I had carried with me just for security measures. I'll get it back when I leave though.

So I just sit there, and after about two minutes, I hear a buzzing on the other side as a door opens and Hayford is escorted out by another officer.

The officer is surprisingly taller than Hayford, not many people are taller than him. Not even me. I'm the same height. His black colored hair is peppered with graying strands, wrinkles on his face more prominent.

Hayford sits down across from me, and picks up the phone first.

I glare at him as I reluctantly pick up the phone on the wall next to me.

"You came to see me after all."

"Make this quick." I don't bother to try and control my temper.

Hayford frowns. "I didn't raise you to speak to me that way."

"You didn't raise me at all."

Despite Hayford never being in my life unless it was beneficial to him, we looked like twins. The only thing different between us was that his eyes were a hazel green.

My mother thanked me for choosing to have her brown black eyes everyday. Not like I had a choice with my DNA though. Because if I did, Hayford would not be my biological father.

He inhales a deep breath, never once taking his eyes off me. They land on my jacket. "So you made it after all?"

I avoided the question. "Why am I here?"

His eyes travel from the LA embroidery back to my gaze.

"I'm sick, Garrett."

My jaw tightens. Fighting over him with my name would be useless. He called me that, but because my mom hated that name, she called me Jensen instead.

"That's right you are. Sick in the fucking head." It's what landed you here in the first place, but I don't say that. I wish I did though.

Hayford just sighs.

"Alzheimer's. I have Alzheimer's."

I stare at him.

Did he call me here and expect me to feel sorry for him that he's sick? That he's dying?

I stopped caring about him a while ago. He never stopped caring about me though.

"Say something." Hayford tries carefully.

No. I don't want to say anything to you.

But I want to say everything to him, so I do.

I lean forward, and I catch a glimmer of hope shining in Hayford eyes that I'm actually responding.

"Do you want me to beg you to fight? To pay for any medical treatments you'd have to receive? Let me tell you this one time, and one time only Hayford. I hope you die. I hope it swallows you up and you won't remember who I am, who my mother is, who sam is, and most of all, I hope you remember who you are. And what you've done. Do us all a favor and rot in hell."

Hayfords eyes drop, and he begins to respond, but I slam the phone back on the wall.

I see him trying to say my name, Garrett, not Jensen, as I grab my crutches and sit myself up on my chair.

I see him begin to laugh, and it's my mistake when I grab the phone again, giving him a look that could kill.

"What's so funny?"

"The rumors are true then. You really have become a deadbeat player." Hayford continues laughing.

"Don't worry, when I go to the press about it, I'll make sure your name is splattered all over it that this is your doing. I will drag your fucking name through the dirt."

Hayfords laugh dies down, and his green eyes are glaring right back into my dark ones.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Good. I'll make sure you do. It'll be the last thing I will ever send you. I promise that."

His sneer drops off his face, and I put the phone back on the wall.

I actually walk away this time, using my crutches to help me through the visiting area and out the door.

I was given my things again, and once I'm in my car and the crutches are in the back seat, is when I finally let it all out.

"FUCK!" My hands hit the steering wheel over and over, and I'm grabbing and pulling at my hair.

I knew it was a bad idea coming here. Everything was always a bad idea when it came to Hayford. He's a bad man, and a horrible person.

He doesn't care about people he hurts, he just cares what he gains from it.

He used me as his little proxy. Tried to live out his baseball dreams that were ruined through me. Pushed me to my limit hundreds of times, and if I ever lost a game he would make it known how disappointed he was. I still have a scar down my leg to prove that.

Hayford used my mother. I'm surprised she stayed with him for as long as he did because he was an abusive dick. He wanted her to be the perfect housewife, and one day the pressure just got to be too much that she decided being dead was better than being with him.

I was angry at my mom for that. For leaving me with no one but him. But I was also jealous. Because she got away and I didn't. I will never get away from his actions.

Now, hopefully I can. Because he's going to be dead soon. And I cannot wait to spit on his grave.

———
(QOTD: if you were in the Olympics, what sport would you play?

I would probably chose to be in rhythmic gymnastics? I know how to throw and catch things and dance under them (I'm a color guard director) and meanwhile I may not the most flexible, it would be most natural to me)