A metal rod clanked a rack of metal bars. Like a church bell next to your ear was how loud it was. Loud and annoying. Footsteps were heard outside a cellar and they stopped in front of a cellar in West Precinct Police Department. The racking continued again and again before the guy inside opened his eyes.
"Wake up!" Roared a police officer.
Ethan got up from the deep sleep he was in and wiped off his drool. He sniffed his nose around as he tried to adjust his eyes to the blinding bright light. His eyes finally adjusted and he noticed the cop on the other end. He yawned a little before the police called out his name.
"Ethan, wake up! You have a visitor."
Ethan got up on his heels, staggering to do so by the way. He held onto his ailing stomach, remembering he hadn't eaten anything the previous day. He cringed at the thought of it. His hands were grabbed away from him and put in handcuffs. They took a stride up the hallway with the cells till they came to the exit. They took a left corner towards the interrogation rooms and he came past the main entrance/exit door of the police department. He looked outside for a while and eyed it in stuttering eyes. Freedom. Why wasn't he on the other side of the building? Why his hands had been in those handcuffs. Then the thoughts came rushing in at supersonic speed. Elena…
The thoughts circled and twirled in his mind. Round and round they went. The slaps. The screams. The cries. The frightened face of Elena appeared before him and it took all his strength to shove it away into the deepest depths of his mind, for them to be locked forever. She was crying. For more than an hour or so she cried. How had he not been in control?
A certain shove brought the man back to earth. The outside yes… it looked precious now. Valuable. Priceless. His eyes trekked to the reception desks near the door. It was less of officers and activities, today being a Sunday.
"Move!" The officer behind him commanded. And slowly they made their way to another hallway. He bumped into another police officer unknowingly and received strong and harsh abuses for that.
Ethan shook off the man's abuse from causing a scene in his mind. He knew him though...very well. He knew almost all the police officers in the department. His father had brought him here on several occasions when he had to interrogate some of his clients who were involved in crimes one way or another. Paul used to say that it was a father-son bond thing that he saw it useful to do. In a way, he would be grooming his son for the job ahead. Ethan knew all the corners of the premises, what door led where, and where to get what! He knew where the interrogation rooms were, he was just being polite by obeying the nudge of the police's hand behind his back. He got to a room and his eyes bumped on a familiar face.
"Dad!" He mumbled.
The forty-nine-year-old man was sitting on one of the three chairs present in the room. He had clenched his hands tightly on the table and his face was showed nothing but utter disappointment. His dark hair had been unkempt– an unusual state and proof of the matter. He looked up and saw Ethan in cuffs and felt like he wanted to explode. His jaws danced beneath the skin to the tune of his rage. His eyes locked onto his son.
The police opened up the cuffs finally releasing him, for a while at least. Ethan headed to sit down as he avoided eye contact with his father, but he could feel him looking back even with his head arched downwards. He felt the disappointed vibe that his father was giving off and for the first time in a long time, he was really scared. The muscles on his legs twitched about every now and then.
"Look at me! Look at me, boy!" Roared Paul. His voice shook the room. Ethan raised his head slightly trembling at the ordered command.
"What is wrong with you?!" Paul asked as he slammed his hand on the table. Ethan kept quiet and tried as much as possible not to look away. It drained the most of him to just not train his eyes to other things, knowing who his father really was.
"Hey sir, could you calm down?" Asked the police officer.
Paul took some deep breaths. His eyes were still focused on his son and the jaws stopped dancing. He dug himself in his palms and let out a sigh. The police officer walked outside and in came another guy. He seemed like an interrogator, the interrogator. He was bald and his body well built. One would say he spent his free time in a gym. Sharp jawlines decorated either side of the face and a well-trimmed black beard stretched from his ears down to the chin. This wasn't some random visit though: Ethan had refused to talk without the presence of an attorney and that's what Paul was doing here. The interrogator had a notebook and a tape recorder to record the session. He turned the recorder on and began the formalities.
"Mr. Purcell, how are you, sir?" He said shaking Paul's hands.
"I'm good Jensen." Paul grinned. "How about you?"
"Well, it's a Sunday and Christmas is all there is and guess what! Here I am. Duty beats many things I guess." He said laughing out in the end. Paul tried to afford a peal of small laughter. Ethan remained to shush. He felt awkward being in the presence of these two fine gentlemen who had been friends for a long time, only that he was the reason that everyone was here today and that they would finish the interrogation as enemies. He tried as much to look courageous in their midst but the acting was giving in to what he was feeling inside. He played with his fingers and cracked knuckles, nervousness choking him to the grave.
"So, Ethan Purcell, tell us what happened on the night of 22nd. Tell us what happened yesterday." Said Mr. Jensen.
He looked at his father who was seating opposite him with Mr. Jensen at his side. His heartbeat rose and his lips mumbled as he tried to speak words that seemed like they didn't want to come out. Paul signaled him something by shaking his head. Ethan read the cue; he knew his father was angry with him but if he could prevent him from going to prison he would take the chance.
"Nothing too important. Just two grownups having fun." He finally said.
"Come on Ethan, don't play that game with me. You were pretty much on the scene and from the witnesses' words, it's clear to say that there was no fun going around your house. It is your house, right?"
Paul kept quiet. Mr. Jensen grinned, a lot. Ethan was shaking from fear. This was one awkward situation for all-him at most.
"We...well I...I told Elena to come to my home because I was angry being at the party after Ingr..." he stopped in his talk and looked at his father. Paul seemed puzzled. Ingrid what? Did Ingrid do something?
"After I was angry..." he continued, "So I decided to leave and I asked Elena to come with me. And she accepted. Well after a while we got involved in intimate relations and that was that."
"So you're saying that you didn't force yourself on her?" Asked Mr. Jensen noting something down. Paul did the same too. They looked back at him after they were through.
"Yes! I did not force myself on her I swear!"
"The first respondents at the scene said they found her leg tied on one of the legs of the bed, blood was on the bedsheets and her dress was ripped apart. She appeared to have a slap imprint on her face and some bruises too. All happening when you were with her. Explain that."
"Pass..." Paul hissed instantly. "We won't be answering that." Mr. Jensen looked at him and grinned again and noted something down.
"I wish to speak with my attorney alone," Ethan mumbled. The questions had suddenly become too much for him to handle. Mr. Jensen understood his rights. He grabbed his things after a long gaze with the two and walked out. He closed the door but was in too much of a hurry to close it completely. Paul turned to Ethan.