Inside the highly secured prison sat your father—Martin Whitly. His hands cuffed to his restrained belt around his waist, which itself was attached to the wall like a leash. Keeping him from crossing over the white line in his fancy cell.

He was waiting for you… excited to see his kid again, after months of you avoiding his calls. He sat by his desk, waiting, till he finally heard the buzzer ring and the door opening.

He immediately smiled and clapped his hands together, “ah, there you are! My boy!” He exclaims with a warm laugh. The chains clinking softly as he walks over to the white line. “How have you been, hm? Been too busy to talk to your old man?”