inmates

chapter fifteen

Authors note: hey! so I'm most likely going to post weekly again now - depending on how many chapters I can write.

As always, comments and votes are appreciated! Tell me if you see any grammar/spelling mistakes and I'll fix them.

Enjoy :)

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His dad sat at a desk in the small room, still rummaging through some of the draws and cursing under his breath.
"Whatdya want" he spat, not even looking up.

Sam was still at a loss for words and didn't say anything, his mouth hanging open slightly. Why was his luck so shitty? Muscles stepped forward, tugging Sam along who winced slightly at the pain in his wrist.
Ponytail spoke up.

"Got something here that could get us some cash" she crossed her arms and motioned her head towards Sam. There was a long sigh which came from his dad, before he looked up.

He couldn't help showing his shock when he saw Sam, eyes widening before he tried to control himself. He frowned, leaning back in his seat to appear less bothered by the situation.

"Please explain to me what my son is doing here looking like a lost puppy" he raised an eyebrow and sighed.
Hoodie beat the other two to it, questioning Sam's dad straight away.

"Son?!" He looked between the two, seeing the slight resemblance and letting out a half laugh of disbelief.
Ponytail whistled lowly, "did not see that coming".

"Wait..." muscles frowned, clearly thinking "I thought your kid was like, nine or something"
Ponytail groaned loudly and smacked him round the back of the head. Sam faced the two of them and watched.

"You fucking idiot, oh my God"
His dad rolled his eyes and stood up, hands on his hips. He stepped forward.
"Why did you bring him here, then, may I ask?" He seemed completely fed up with the trio by this point.

"Cause he's wanted" hoodie scoffed "gotta be worth some money if we turn him in". Sam stepped back slightly and bit his lip - he really was screwed now. If his dad really didn't care about him, then he'd for sure turn him in for some easy cash, and to keep him out his way. He gulped.

His dad looked at him, and Sam swore he could see some sort of...Worry? Sympathy? flash in his eyes before he spoke up.
"The three of you get out, I want to talk to my son alone"

The trio all nodded and left, Sam internally crying in relief that muscles finally released the grip on his wrist. He brought said wrist up and rubbed it a bit, wincing at its tenderness.

On the other side of the small room there was an arm chair, and his dad motioned him to sit down. Which he did, albeit awkwardly. His dad collapsed back into his own desk chair, wheeling it over to him. He sighed before talking.

"I'm not gonna turn you in, Sam"
Sam felt as if a weight had been lifted from him and he relaxed more into the chair in relief. He leaned forward again.
"Thanks" he replied, not sure what else to say. He was still slightly tense. What was he suppose to say to the guy who left him twelve years ago and attempted to pretend he didn't exist?

So he opted to stay quiet.
"So...where's your mate, then?" His dad asked, referring to Noah. Sam raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed, wondering why he was now suddenly interested in his life.
"What do you care?"
His dad looked at him in shock. Sam never snapped at him when he was younger, or raised his voice. All in all he used to be a perfect fucking son, but that just wasn't enough, was it? He opted to carry on.