After The Meltdown...
He looked so small, so normal, like any human being that spent their days on mundane tasks and obsessions.
Like any plain, average teenager barely out of puberty would look, well, as plain as a teenager could look, that is.
You know, like the ones hooked on gaming and running around and playing basket ball after school and on some weekends.
It was hard to grasp the fact that this normal looking, quiet child, was brought in for questioning. Essentially brought to be convicted and probably sentenced as well.
It was all too difficult to wrap his head around.
"Are you sure this is the criminal, sergeant Chris?", the man gave the sergeant a questioning look and the man in question let out a tired sigh, quickly understanding the situation and responding.
"Yes. It's him, detective. I know it's hard to believe but he really is guilty. We saw it all, well pretty much all of it, and we even have pictures from the crime scene and there's also a surviving witness, two witnesses actually, that will come in later to give you their own testimonies when you're through with the kid", the sergeant placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, giving a squeeze before he stepped out the room, shutting the door behind himself and going to position himself in front of the one way glass that covered almost the entire wall beside the door. The one way glass let one see inside from outside the room but not from the inside, out.
The detective breathed in deeply, trying to clear his head as he thought of a suitable way to address the issue at hand, one hand coming up to run fingers through pitch black locks and carelessly undoing the bun atop his head, and that snapped him out of his head and he quickly pulled up his hair again and redid the bun.
He walked away from the door Chris had just walked through and went close to the teen, "Hi", the detective tried, giving the boy a warm smile but the boy remained unmoving, staring off into space, more like something on the table that was of more interest than his surroundings, head tilted downwards slightly.
"What's your name, kid?", the detective asked, moving to sit on the seat at the other side of the table, opposite the teen.
The boy had probably not heard him, or maybe he could hear him but just couldn't bring himself to answer, the detective didn't understand.
But he could very well be scared, after all, what kid wouldn't be scared of an investigation after probably hearing stories of people who go into the interrogation room and get convicted, all those scary murder stories that seemed to be on the lips of kids these days.
"I'm Gregory, Greg is what they call me around here though. Tell me yours?", the detective tried again, standing up from his seat to crouch beside the younger who could only look down at the older man with tired, distant eyes that didn't look like they were working properly and very much did not belong on a seventeen year old with a pretty face, no doubt from his mother's genes.
"Richard", the boy whispered, and even that was a hoarse whisper, throat probably sore or worse, from all the screaming he did when he was being dragged away from his raging mother and wailing sister, and while he was still in a holding cell in the station.
His father had somehow managed to remain in the world of the living, currently taking bed rest in the ICU in the hospital down town but according to the mother, the boy didn't have a single expression on his face when he carried out 'the act' or when his mother started cursing and hurting him but as soon as his sister started crying, he had turned hysterical, screaming and crying out but never coherent or complete words, simply gibberish and the occasional 'I'm sorry' thrown into the mix.
Gregory had every reason to believe that something had to be wrong with the boy upstairs but it's not like anyone would believe him. Hell, they'd even say that he was letting his personal feelings get in the way of justice, yada yada yada.
Greg sighed as he looked up at the kid, into eyes that didn't seem to meet his own.
This situation wasn't something he could just ask questions about and be done with based on whatever answers the boy gave, not like someone that was practically mentally unstable could give proper or insightful answers to help the case.
"I'll be back", Greg told the boy, though he didn't need to, since the boy didn't react, as he stood from his crouching position to walk towards the door.
Chris, seeing Greg walking away from the boy was already at the door, opening it for the other man, mirroring the frown on the detective's face as he stepped out into the adjoining room right beside the interrogation room.
"Why the face, Greg?", Chris had folded his hands across his broad chest, beefy arms bulging in the sleeves of his shirt, said arms all the more accentuated by his rolled up sleeves.
"This kid, your man, is far from mentally stable. Did you guys run any tests on him before bringing him here?", Chris looked at him like he'd grown another head, looking past his shoulder into the interrogation room where the boy sat stock still, not really though, just sitting like he had been when they'd brought him in, cuffed, sort of slumped in the seat but his body hadn't more or less changed positions for the past two hours.
"Look, Greg, all I did was bring him in after I left the crime scene, and he'd been placed in a cell while we waited for you to arrive. I had no idea something was wrong with him", Chris sighed, raising a hand to rub his temples and Greg frowned a bit, sort of pitying his older colleague who no doubt was just as confused as he had been been when he'd been called to deal with a homicide case in which the culprit was a barely seventeen year old boy who is now currently showing signs of a mental disorder of some sort.
"We should probably get a doctor or take him to a hospital to run a few tests just to be sure", Greg pulled Chris out of his thoughts, hoping the older man would listen to him.
"Good call, Greg. I'll probably sleep better after that", Chris gave the detective a gentle smile and patted him on the shoulder as he left.