Long Series About Timothee Chalamet

Hayloft (P4)

Warning - mentions of sex, mentions of murder, lying, bad parent, mentions of abuse

Admittedly, I felt guilty asking Timothée to go with me to the jail to see my father, it could be seriously traumatic for him. After all, this was the man who had shot and killed him, but it would be traumatic for me as well. This was the man who had been abusing me all my life, and had killed my true love. In the end, I hadn't even needed to ask him, Timmy knew I needed him there and was willing to come for moral support.

I was shaking as I walked into the jail, and was searched before going to the visitation room. I felt the tingle of Timothée rubbing my back. I had to sell this.

As I walked in, I saw him sitting at the third glass divider, with the phone already in his hand. He had lost hair and his pot belly, but otherwise he still looked like the hairy, red necked, greasy scum bag he'd always been. He'd aged poorly due to all the drugs and alcohol he'd consumed.

"Daddy," I managed to say gently when I picked up the phone. I nearly choked on the word, as if were unholy, and not meant to be spoken.

"Baby girl," his gravelly voice cooed, and I had to stop myself from cringing. When I looked at him all I saw was him on that night. Drunken anger, red eyes, a frothy mouth, spitting the most disgusting words I'd ever heard, and then the shot.

"Have they been treating you well?" I asked, making my voice quiver. I blamed my heavy breathing on pity for him instead of the panic rising in me.

"I'm a model prisoner," he beamed.

"That's so good, it'll be easier to get you out," I said triumphantly.

"You're going to help me get out?"

"Of course, I've for-" I cut myself off. I had to keep up the facade, but could I really say this? I looked up to Timothée to get the courage to do what I needed to do.

"I've forgiven you," I finally got out.

"That's all I've wanted all these years. You have to understand that boy was up to no good, I did what I did for your own good."

"I know that now," I nearly growled, but he didn't seem to notice. Timothée leaned down to kiss my cheek.

"I mean he was inside my little girl, in MY hayloft. Clearly there was some brain washing, you would've never done that normally."

"You are right," I gritted out.

"My time is nearly up, so I better go," he said sadly.

"Bye dad," I said emotionally.

I watched Timothée grip his chest, and I knew, another part of him was back. As we walked out I handed the woman a file.

"Can you give this to the appropriate person, it's a testament to my father's character."

The woman nodded and looked at me strangely.

"My eyes must be getting worse in my old age, I could have sworn I saw someone beside you."

I knew Timothée couldn't accompany me any more.