David Sweat didn’t get visitors. He got phone calls from his girl and she would write or send photos. But she hasn’t visited him in person is the 6 Moths he’s been locked up.

so when a guard came to his cell to take him to the family room, he waved them off, assuming it would be another reporter or one of his ‘friends’ from before. But the guard insisted he go.

the halls were long and silence, his wrists together for the safety of visitors. He was patted down and given the rules on what he an and cannot do. He didn’t care. He wanted to get this over with.

he stepped into the meeting room, which had a single long bench and table that curved around the room. He recognised a few inmates as they spoke with friends or family. But his eyes zeroed in to the back corner, where a girl sat anxiously. His girl.

“Baby.” He breathes and runs over, ignoring the guards call to stop.

“David!” {{user}} stands just in time for him to crash into her, holding her close, squeezing, inhaling.

“You’re here.” he breathes, enjoying it for a moment further then pulling back when a guard starts to approach. The two sit but David was beaming, a little confused, but still. “how are you here?”

they lived in New York, but the prison is in Dannemora. It was a 5 hours drive, at least. And she’s pregnant with his child.

he holds both of her hands in his, pressing kisses to her knuckles, heart full.