Consequences

Choosing

Chapter 11.

Monty POV

As I was walking to my cell after work, I could already hear my dad's loud voice beaming over the already noisy prison hall. Oh... a thing I forgot to mention earlier, me and my dad share a cell. Genius right? They really thought it would be smart to make father and son, who most of the time can't stand each other already, share a small 6 by 8 feet space all day. Maybe they were thinking it would help the two of us get along better or something? Believe me I tried, but already discovered that a healthy relationship with my dad just isn't in the cards for me. It's néver going to happen. Our personalities simply won't match. It's beyond disappointing, sure. But it's probably for the best.

I picked up the pace a little, desperately needing to shut him up before any of the guards would. If they find out we have a phone we're so fucked. In here phones are strictly prohibited. They can get you in even bigger trouble than drugs. It's because a phone can give you access to people from outside, and not having that 24/7 is the whole point of being in prison. Prison is like a forced break you get from society.

I've got no fucking idea what's going on outside these damn walls, but it's probably way better then being stuck in here all day.

"HIJO DE PUTA!", my dad yelled loudly as I entered the room. He looked very angry, furious, like steam was about to come from his ears any second. What happened for him to get this angry? Although, it's not something new for my dad to get this emotional about something. You should see him watch a soccer game on tv! Shit never fails to amuse me.

I jumped a little when he aggressively hung up the phone and smashed it against the wall. The big impact had even caused the battery to fall out of it. My eyes widened and I quickly rushed towards the thing, literally praying it still worked. Luckily it did. After all it is an old Nokia, so even my dad wouldn't be able to break it. I swear, those thing would survive a fucking nuclear attack.

I looked up and glared at him. "Jezus, be careful with this thing! I'm not fucking smuggling another one of these in here!", I hissed out in frustration. I got up from the ground and carefully hid the phone underneath my mattress, just to be sure for now that guards wouldn't find it.

"Que te pasa?", I asked, knowing that most of the time Spanish works better whenever dad's upset about something. It usually seems to be having a calming effect on him. Something about it being his mother tongue... I don't know? At home Spanish was the only language we were allowed to speak around my dad. If you tried to speak English to him he would simply ignore you. Thinking back at it i'm actually kinda glad for it. Since half of the population in here is hispanic, it turns out to be quite useful around here.

He shook his head as he sat down on a chair. "Fucking Hucha wants to shut down business for a while, saying it's to dangerous or some shit...", he sighed. He then let out an frustrated groan and angrily slammed his fist on the desk, causing my breath to hitch a little. I can't help it. I get so on edge every time the man is angry. You would think I would be used to it by now. But ever time he does something as simple as raising his voice, I'm back to being that eight year old kid again, preparing himself for the beating he's going to get. And the worst part is, this right here, it's not even my fault. But it's not like that matters anyway. When my dad's mad, no one in the room is safe. Someone has to catch his blows. And unfortunately most of the time that someone has to be me...

I watched how my dad got up from his chair and started pacing circles trough our cell, his forehead showing some thick wrinkles from frowning so hard. He was now having a full on conversation with himself, mumbling to himself in both English and Spanish. "-He can't fucking stop now, think about all the money we'll lose. I've got customers breathing down my neck for his shit!". He then looked up at me, as if he was expecting some response from me so I quickly redeemed myself.