Christopher's P.O.V.
"Dad?" I called out into his dark cell. The place smelled horrid. The prisoner had plumbing, but it wasn't the best as the pipes would freeze often here.
"Chris?" He came forward, stepping into the light.
He hadn't shaved in a few months, causing his beard to grow so long it was touching his chest now. His hair, that was once a light sandy blonde, was now so dirty that it looked brown. It was long, to his shoulder blades, matted so badly there was no chance of getting anything through it. He'd lost weight again, his ribs clearly visible through his skin.
"I'm here, Dad." I grabbed his hand through the bars. "Are you eating?"
"What I can." He responded softly. "Let's not talk about me. Tell me what's going on with you." He gave me that broken smile that he thou
