Evelyn was at the kitchen table with her laptop open and a half finished cup of tea beside her when Damien's words came back.
"Why did you stop fighting for your father?"
She stopped typing and looked towards the window. "I didn't want to stop fighting, Damien," she said quietly. To no one. "He wanted me to."
Six years ago.
The prison visiting room smelt weird to Evelyn, like metal, bleach and frustration.
Evelyn sat on the hard chair with her hands in her lap.
She was twenty-three years old. She just found out she was pregnant and she had come here first, because her father was the closest thing to solid ground she had left.
The door on the other side of the glass opened.
Richard Cole sat down.
"Hi Dad," she said.
He nodded. "You look tired."
"I'm fine." She leaned forward sl
