Page 34 of Maddening Fixation

Prison visiting days flashed through my mind with painful clarity.

Every second Wednesday.

The loudspeaker would announce visiting hours.

One by one, hardened criminals disappeared through the steel doors with nervous smiles they tried desperately to hide.

Murderers hugged their wives.

Drug traffickers kissed their children.

Gang leaders laughed with brothers who smuggled cigarettes and cash through carefully rehearsed handshakes.

Some mothers cried. Some fathers offered advice.

Some families simply sat together in silence, grateful to share an hour separated only by reinforced glass.

Those men always returned to their cells carrying something.

A photograph. Fresh clothes. Chocolate. News from home.

Hope.

Even the smallest reminder that someone still remembered their name could keep a man alive inside Ravencliff.

I never had that luxury.

Week after week...

Month after month...

Year after year...

I sat alone inside my cell while the prison emptied around me.

Every announcement of visiting hours became another reminder that I no longer existed to the people who shared my blood.

No letters. No visitors.

No lawyer sent by the family.

No message asking if I was alive.

Not even a priest.

Only silence.

Absolute silence.

It took nearly two years before I finally accepted the truth.

They hadn’t forgotten me. They had abandoned me.

There was a difference.

To them...

I wasn’t imprisoned.