Remembering the phrase 'It's a nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there,' as he walked into the county jail visitors center, Jack thought, It's a terrible place to visit and I'd rather die than live here.
He and Madison had realized it would look suspicious if he didn't visit her in jail.
Not going during his first week of classes was explainable, but not even visiting on the weekend would seem suspicious, given their relationship.
So, here he was, on a fine Sunday morning, entering the gates of hell. Or hell's visitor center, anyway.
The place was bleak. Grey concrete walls, grey steel doors, dirty wire mesh windows. And the other people in the little waiting room all looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.
When he got to the sign-in counter, the overweight man behind it said, "ID. Prisoner name," in a tone that managed to be bored, menacing, and condescending all at the same time.
Jack handed the man his ID and said, "Madison Kavanagh."
