The Price Of Love

Chapter 13

Jay's POV

"Why not?!" I find myself yelling without even meaning to.

"Because I fucking said so" Issac scoffs, and my jaw clenches while I try to take a second to calm myself down.

I'm standing in the middle of my office since I was getting too agitated sitting behind my desk.

"One fucking letter a month. That's all I ask" I mutter, my free hand balling up into a fist as I wait for his answer.

"Why should I?" He scoffs, and I take another deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. If I yell he'll say no regardless of whatever point I make.

"Don't you think Clayton will behave better if he's not depressed?" I ask, beginning to pace back and forth again.

I need some form of communication with them. Since phone calls and texts are most likely not a possibility, I asked for letters instead. Besides, if he did allow us phone calls, he'd probably monitor them and set a two-minute timer. With letters, we have slightly more freedom.

"Don't tell me you believe that mental sickness crap" Issac scoffs, and I stare at the floor in disbelief. It's a reminder of just how unreasonable he is.

I roll my eyes, shaking my head in disappointment at myself for thinking Clayton's mental health would be a concern of his.

"Mam will believe it more. I don't know what lie you told her, but she won't believe we went away willingly if we have zero contact. She'll get suspicious, but if we send letters she'll know everything's fine" I mumble, praying it works. Mam is usually the best way to get him to do something.

I'm twenty-five and still don't have a single clue what goings on with them behind closed doors.

I rarely see them talking to each other, and I've never seen them show affection. Yet Mam is quick to defend him. And deep down, I do believe he has a soft spot for her. I don't know if I'd call it love or not, but he never seems to have hurt her. Which is the closest thing to love when it comes to Issac.

And at the end of the day, they disappear into the same bedroom.

"I can fake a letter just fine," He says, and I groan. "Issac, fucking let!-"

"Beg me"

I screw my eyes shut, biting my tongue hard enough blood breaks through. Of course he wants me to fucking beg him.

For them, I remind myself.

"Please" It practically pains me to say the word. "Please allow me to write to them". What's worse is that despite how much it kills me to say that, I know it won't be enough for him.

"No"

"I beg you" I force out, every muscle in my body so tense as I wait for his reply but after ten seconds, I know there wont be one.

"Fucking please!" I yell, snapping again.

"No" He repeats, and the amusement in his tone makes me see fucking red.

This whole situation is probably so very fucking amusing to him. Separating his kids, watching as I drive myself crazy with worry, not knowing what he was doing to Clayton. I bet he has a good laugh about it after every call.

"I don't know what you expect me to do here!" I mutter but my voice raises higher after every word till I'm yelling again. I'm not getting anywhere here. I ask politely, he says no. I give him valid reasons, he says no. I fucking beg him. He.says.no.

I don't understand why I always expect different. Why do I always assume he'll be reasonable when for as long as I can remember he's been anything but?

"Don't question me" He says simply. And so fucking casually. This conversation deciphers whether I sleep properly anytime soon, and he says no so easily.