The gates opened and shut, Cory watched attentively as prisoners strolled out in search of those who'd come to visit. He sat at table by himself and waited patiently for his father to come out as well.
He sat there, looking at nothing in particular with a face that was unreadable to the eye.
Cory was lost; somehow on his quest for peace, something had deterred him.
His father pulled the seat out opposite Cory and situated himself on it. He had a smile on his face perhaps that made him all the more dangerous. Lethal. Dangerous.
Cory glanced at him and didn't know what to feel. When it came to love, nothing seemed to matter since Leonie had died. She took most of him and any pleasant emotion was hard for Cory to find within himself. All Cory ever remembered was that he respected his father, Cory Matthias Senior had taught him so much about how to be a man and long ago he'd been moulded into becoming a new version of his senior.
Bigger, better, badder. An upgraded version.
But with him, Cory was lost. Lost in this place where resentment, sadness, blame and regret search for someone t put it all upon. The person who rightfully deserved that burden was sitting right in front of him and yet Cory couldn't see it. Instead, these emotions ate away at him from the inside out.
Cory had been conditioned to never question his father, so any thought could never even cross his mind that his father was responsible for the state of his family. Leonie. His mother. For the state of Cory's own present life.
"Glad you could come."
Cory kept his head down; his gaze remained on the carvings indented onto the table between them. What was surprising was the fact that his father's presence seemed to belittle him. However, Cory feared no man. How could he? A man who didn't fear death, couldn't fear any man, he lived as though he had nothing to lose because at times that was how he viewed his life.
"Son." Cory's head rose and they made eye contact.
Cory's jaw clenched instinctively, he had to keep his hard stance, he'd hate for his father to think he was weak.
He heard the room rattle as the gates shuttered close. The tense yet relieved faces of other inmates being visited by loved ones. Every prisoner dressed the same like they were clones. The harsh expressions on the faces of the officers. The eerie atmosphere. The coldness. No warmth, no silent possibility of hope or care. But none of it got to Cory, he wasn't affected in the slightest; none of it intimidated him to way his father did.
"Junior."
"What?" He hated his father referring to him by that name.
"You spoken to your mum lately? How's she doing?" That was always the first thing his father asked. Maybe he did actually still love her, but the hurt, the anguish and the scars he brought would never fade. They would remain like a dark cloud above her.
"No."
"Could you do that for me?" He spoke softly. "Make sure she's good, yeah?"
Cory nodded.
"You miss 'em, don't you?' His father's eyes chased his own.
"Could we...please...not talk about mum...or Leonie?" Cory spoke like he was loosing patience then closed his eyes momentarily.
An endearing high pitched voice filled his ears, the girl rambled in fear. She sounded like she was clawing away form something in fear, running for her life. She told him she was scared, that it was big and dark and scary and lonely. All she wanted was for her big brother to come and take her home.
