Orange Jumpsuits

The Father I Know I Don't Have

A/N: Alright! The beginning of my new and first story on WattPad!!! Ok, so I know y’all are anxious, I am too!!! So here we go!!

Orange Jumpsuits

As much as the chains hurt, the orange jumpsuits were pretty comfortable.  I couldn’t help but notice this as I stood in front of my jail cell while the guard took my chains off. As soon as the chains were gone, he gently, yet forcefully pushed me in. I sighed and walked over to my “bed”. Although, I really didn’t understand how it was supposed to be a bed. I considered it more as a plank. It felt like one, too. My cell was all white, a bland room with no shape. It simply had a sink, toilet, a mirror, a chair, and, of course, my plank.

"My life can't get any better, could it?" I thought.

This place doesn't resemble the stereotypical TV jail. On TV, they made it look like it was all grey and dark and the meals consisted of questionable mush. The meals were not too great here, but they were better than mush. There weren’t bars that held you in either; just a door with a bulletproof window. I don’t know if this was because I was in a level three jail or what, but jail is jail. I have no clue what a level one jail looks like, but I honestly couldn’t care less.

As I was lying on my "plank", I heard the door slide open. Instinctively, I turned to see a guard. “You have a visitor,” she stated shortly.

I sat up as she came closer. Her red hair pulled back into a pony-tail, swishing side to side with each step she took. Her hair reminded me of the purple-bloused lady who voiced my fate to the world and put me in the box of a room.

 “Stand up,” she said harshly.

I did as I was told. “How are you so much more obedient than the rest of them?” she asked rhetorically, but I answered anyways. “Well, for one thing, I was wrongly accused,” I said, kind of scared of how she would reply, but she just chuckled.

“Yeah, so is everyone else,” she replied sarcastically. Wait, did she really just say that to me? I wondered how she still didn't believe me. Ever since I had gotten here a week ago, I did everything everyone asked.

She walked me down to the visitor room. The walls tightness scared me. They weren’t very wide so you could hear some of the other convents crying or screaming or sometimes both.

I took my mind off the voices and debated silently who'd come to see me. It had to be either my mom or sister. They came to visit nearly every two days. I wondered what we would talk about before the guards would haul me back to the cell again.

But instead, I walked in to see my father. I was about to consider asking the guard to take me back to the cell, but stopped because I knew she wouldn’t.

My father and I didn’t have a, let’s say, loving father-daughter relationship. It’s a long, emotional story, but I do have my reasons. I'll spare you the tale for now.

I sat down and picked up the phone. He did the same on the other side of the glass window that separated us. This room was unlike the rest of the prison. Instead of white, everything was dark and gray, it gave it that nice cliché touch that all jails should have. 

“Sammy,” he said.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” I asked, still in awe that he had actually come. He looked awful, though, and a little scary too. He his hair was a mess, and his clothes were mishappen. He had shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a while. If I could smell him, he'd probably reek.

“I was in town. Your mother told me what happened,” he said, no emotion was on his face.

“Dad, I didn’t do those things. I wouldn’t kill sixteen… Wait, you didn’t hear about it over the news? Why did mom have to tell you?” I asked.

“I’ve been over in Russia for the last four years, you know that,” he said. It was almost frightening how little emotion he was carrying.

“I guess that’s why I haven’t heard from you in the last six years,” I said plainly.

“Look, just hold on a minute. I was gone-“

“Yeah, I’ve heard this before. You were gone for the business because the business is more important than the rest of us,” I said, now mad.

“Now you know you always come before the business.” He probably didn't even realize that he'd just told me a lie. He's said so many of them he probably didn't know how to say a truth.

“I've been listening to the same excuses over and over for years and I’m sick of it!” I yelled almost about to stand up in the chair.

“Quiet down miss, or else I’ll take you back to your cell!” The guard barked at us from the corner. I looked down, now embarrassed.

“Sam, look at me,” he said quietly. I hesitantly lifted my head.

“I love you, and that’s the truth.” The words were barely audible through the phone's static. I still didn’t believe him, the words weren't reaching his eyes.

“Tell that to all the missed birthday parties, graduations, and whatever else you didn't come to,” I spat at him and I motioned to the guard that we were done. Even in this position I didn't want to listen to my dad's pathetic pleas.

“One last thing; your moms hiring a private eye to look further into this,” he said standing up. Before I could respond, he grabbed his tattered coat and walked straight out.

“Love you, too,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath as the guard chained me back and led me out.

As I had said before, my father, not like he really is a father, and I don’t have the best relationship. But I know him well enough. He hadn't come for me during all those good times, and he surely shouldn't have come now that I'm at rockbottom. He’s hiding something, something big, and I have to know what.

 As soon as I got to my cell, I was shoved. Again. I started getting tired of the fact that that I was being treated like a criminal when I haven't done anything wrong! I sat on my chair thinking of all the, quote-on-quote, "wonderful" times I had with my father. It seems like all he's ever done is make my life a living hell. The absolute best thing he's done for me is send me a birthday card two months after my birthday. There was this faint memory of when I was five and he went rapid on my family. All I can remember is crying in my sister's arms.

"Five minutes, then lights out!" the guard screamed out in the hallway.

I got up and went to my sink. I carefully took out my ponytail. My hair stayed in the ponytail position considering how greasy my hair was. It's been, like, three days out of the total seven I've been here since I've gotten a shower. I brushed my hair slowly looking at the reflection staring back.

It seemed like no one ever liked me. I was decent looking. My brown hair swayed by my shoulder blade. I've always seemed to stay skinny, no matter how unhealthy I ate. No one ever seemed to be nice to me no matter how nice I was to them. As a teenager, I always thought it was my appearance. I tried all kinds of clothing, hair styles, and make up, but around seventeen, I gave up. I think the only thing that kept me going was my sister, who was constantly giving me advise and when I gave up, she wasn't happy. One thing she picked up from my dad was that appearance was everything.

I put my brush down and picked up my toothbrush and brushed my teeth. But, of course, half way through, off the lights went. I quickly finished and jumped onto my plank, forgetting how hard it was. As soon as the pain went away from my knees, I quickly lied down and fell asleep. Unfortunately, I'd rather my imprisonment be this boring than what it turned out to be.

A/N: That was that! No worries, it gets much more exciting! I haven't been around to keep writing due to some.... drama in my life, but we'll get into that later! Hope y'all liked it!