"Hey, it's me, again. Please answer your phone, ring me, text me. Send me a frickin' letter in the post, just get in contact. We're all so worried about you Ivory, you need to know what's happening with Jake and Tobias. Please Ivory, just answer the phone." I plead down the line, tears brimming my eyes.
I sigh heavily and end the call, putting my phone back in my jacket pocket. My fingers brush over the paper with my baby's scan picture and I close my eyes. I can't bring myself to look at it . . . it doesn't feel right. Not without Jake.
I blink and turn around, looking up at the intimidating building looming over me. It's a murky grey colour, rising high into the sky. The prison gate stands approximately fifteen feet high, a grey mass of steel beams and mesh, topped by razor wire. The o
