Chapter 83

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My legs shook as I stood up and a wave of coldness swept through my entire body. I made my way over to the corrections officer. I felt the eyes of everyone on me as I walked and I suddenly felt very self-conscious. When I finally reached the door, the officer led me into a room with a bunch of tables and chairs.

Families were sitting on one side of each table with the inmate on the other side. In the back left corner of the room, I saw both of my parents. As I walked to them, they both looked up at me and smiled. My mother seemed to have aged five years within the past few months. She probably wasn't able to dye her hair so all of her gray roots were showing. Her skin looked dull and her eyes lifeless. My father looked skinnier and tougher but that was all. His hair had the same normal gray streaks in it even though his hairline had receded slightly.

"Hi, honey," My mom smiled when I got to them. I was in shock as I looked at them. It was surreal to see both of my parents in jumpsuits. I sat down across from them.

"Hi," I croaked out as my eyes looked them over. I had no clue why my mom was calling me honey. Was she trying to make me feel welcome? Was she trying to get money out of me? Was she forgetting our last encounter?

"How are you?" My dad asked. I looked over at him and flashbacks of his hand against my throat shot through me. It suddenly felt hard to breathe so I bent my head down and closed my eyes. I had to forget about that and forgive him. Or did I?

"I'm good," I sighed as I looked at the ground. "How...um...how's prison?" I asked once I got the courage to look at them.

"It was tough getting used to the first month or so but now it's normal..." My mom sighed. Prison had to be the hardest on her. She wasn't a very strong person.

"I want to hear about life on the outside! How's the house?" My dad asked enthusiasm clear in his voice. My mother must have told him to act interested because normally he wouldn't care.

I wasn't about to tell them that I wasn't living at home. My mom would just call me a dirty whore or something like that. I decided to change the subject. "How did you guys get into drug dealing?" I stared my dad straight in the eyes as I asked him.

"Honey..." My mom sighed.

"Don't you dare call me 'honey.' The last time I saw you you were calling me a whore and saying that I was worthless. You do not have the right to call me 'honey' by any means." I said sternly. My father started to say something but I interrupted him. "And the last time I saw you...hmm...your hands were around my throat as you squeezed my windpipe. You told me I deserved everything that had happened to me." I could tell they were angry but I didn't care. They had treated me horribly and deserved to know how I felt. "I think I deserve to know how you got started in drug dealing."

It took my parents a few minutes to calm down but when they did my father spoke. "Well, when I lost my job, we had no income so it was the only thing to do. I knew some guys that dealt so I thought it would be a good income for the time being. The guys I knew all had some nice things so I wanted to buy nice things for you and your mother. I never imagined that it would get out of control like this."

"Bullshit." I laughed. "You kept all the money for yourself and f.ucking blew it all on alcohol! You lost a bunch of jobs because of it."

"You speak kindly to your father." My mother pointed one of her fingers at me.

"Why? So he can crush my throat again?" I retorted and watched the anger boil up on her face. We both knew she couldn't do anything physically to me because of the amount of corrections officers nearby.

"He is still your father, young lady." She tried to come back.

"Don't you dare treat me like a child! I am an adult and I am going to be treated like one or I'll leave you both in here to rot." I threatened. I was most likely the only person who had visited them besides their attorney. I was their only normal connection to the outside world. I turned to my father. "So tell me more about your business."

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