"Wake up!" Water dripped on William, still with a lump at the side of his mouth.
"Yes?" he groaned, stretching his hands as his weak eyes glanced at Dave. He scanned the place, knowing full well he had slept in the investigating room.
Investigating Room.
Time: 8:25am
Date: 14 May 2019
Dave didn't glance at him; instead, he pulled an empty seat and sat down. Folding his hands as he smirked and faced William.
"Your name, where you're from, and what crime you've been investigated on." Dave stated, he got his jotter and pen ready.
"Dave, please… You can't do this. You know I'm innocent." William pleaded. Tears rolled from his eyes, but that couldn't shake a blink from Dave's eyes.
"What had happened?" Dave questioned him, with his hands tapping the table.
"I was at this place…"
"What place?"
"Hey, stop this. I'm a detective, and I know what you're doing here. Stop and let me go." He warned Dave, with a chuckle.
"Mr. William, you have only a minute to respond to this." Dave's voice became sharp and fiery. "Please stop; I have told you I'm innocent." His voice started to crack and hitch as he tapped his fingers, pinching them to calm the tension.
"You got only ten seconds left." Dave said, with his eyes scanning the clock ticker. "Okay, fine. Since you do want to know the truth, let me spit it out." William raised his hands in defeat as he cleared his throat and faced Dave.
"I was at a friend's place when I got a call about a murderer being at the old clothes store. Without thinking, I rushed over to the place, already believing that it might be the same Mr. Anders causing those crimes. But I found the killer, but then you—" He took a deep breath, clicked his tongue, and glanced at Dave, who scribbled something down, his eyes trying to perch at what Dave wrote. But unlucky for him, Dave closed the jotter and stared at him.
"Continue." Dave ordered. William hissed, knowing full well that Dave wasn't here to play around but to do his pretty job.
"And then, your men, or should I say, untrained men, walked over to me and accused me of being the murderer. Could you believe that?" William scoffed, but inside, those words felt heavy to him. The moment of solving a mystery could land you in a cursed land, as they do say. "If you keep looking for proof, you might end up as proof."
That was true; William sat there, waiting for Dave to order a word. Instead, he made a sign to one of the guards. The man walked inside and pulled William off the seat as he yelled.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm talking to you, look up," he lashed out, but Dave ignored him. Sat there rounding up his notes before placing them back into his work bag. William stared at his old friend; he knew just like Mrs. Mrs. Curts had betrayed him, then Dave wasn't exceptional.
Dave walked out of the room, ignoring William's screams and threats. Dave knew pulling out words from William was a waste of them. Right from years back, when did usually work together, William was a man of his own, always solving mysteries without anyone been involved, and that included gluing his lips when secrets needed to be spilled.
Dave glanced at him from the transparent glass wall before walking out of the hallway and to his seat. Those hurtful memories—he couldn't recall how many times William had helped him, but the law was law. He could lose his job to save him.
"What if he did it?" Dave muttered under his breath and clicked his tongue before focusing on piles of untouched files. The guard dragged him out of the investigation room as William tried to get out of the man's grips, but he had lost count of trying and stood quietly. Everyone inside stared at him, eyes perching and hands pointing at him.
He got dragged toward downstairs and straight to the little cell. William hissed and found himself among two men, already beaten by mosquitoes and insects, as they slapped their bodies hard enough. That gave him a puke, hands on the mouth as he stopped it from puking out.
The men there suddenly noticed him and walked over to him; the youngest hands were on William. He shoved it off, but they pulled him and pinned him to the wall.
"Mr. Prosecutor?" The older one, maybe in their early 30s, scoffed as they both laughed out loud. "What's funny?" William asked, got tired of their weird looks around his skin, and they smiled, and then William found himself on the ground.
Blood oozing from the same place he had been hit earlier. "Oh, shit!" he yelled, spit out some blood, and stood up. The men there stood, glancing at his bravery.
"You want it, right? Come and grab it." William lashed out, knuckles tight as they moved backward, their eyes batting. They could sense his anger; it went around the room. They glanced one more time before walking over to their bed and lying on it.
William bowed down, gasping for more air. His eyes rotating for any moment, he might go after them or something. For an hour, he sat there, body clutched on the iron that made the little cell. He could recall countless people he had pushed inside while working at the police firm.
Life had its own turn, and now he was facing karma. Eyes finally shut down as he dozed off, forgotten about the two men there.
A few minutes had passed; someone walked toward them. They moved back in fear as they stared. "How did you enter?" the younger asked as he squeezed himself to the next person.
"Do you want to be free?" The man's voice spoke from the jacket he wore, black and all filled his body. He pinned his hands into his pocket and tiptoed over to them; they tried shouting, but he shunned them with a gun.
"Don't you dare!" he warned, gun visible for them to stare at. They nodded, hands trembling as he walked over to them. He tugged a paper and gave it to them; they carefully read the paper.
"If you do want your freedom, kill him and gain a life of freedom with some cash as a price."
As they read the paper one more time, they stared at William that was fast asleep.