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***
It's pretty uncomfortable in the SHU. It's also lonely. I wonder why it's called a 'SHU' in the first place?
- Haa. Too bad I don't have the internet to google it.
Although there's nothing here except four walls, three of which the bed rests against, a push and a door. Until now, I didn't understand why people scratch the walls, but now it seems like a tempting way to pass the time.
- Simpson to interrogation.
- Again?
- ...Do you want to sit down?
Without another word, I got up from my bunk and followed the duty officer into the familiar interrogation room.
- By the way, shouldn't they change my bandages? - I lifted my T-shirt and pointed to the three-day bandages.
To which the duty officer, like when I was attacked in the common cell, remained silent. And yes, who would have thought that among murderers and thieves there would be principled people who believed accusations of rape on the Internet?
- Ready to confess, Bart? - back in the interview room, the detective started the record over again. I wonder if this interrogation, like the first one, would last eight hours straight.
- Is it because I'm bored to death. - Already tired of being scared and nervous, I'm in a surprisingly good mood.
Sighing heavily and with a kind of rage, the detective in his colleague's campaign started repeating the same questions. Did I know the deceased, what I was doing in that place, which of the suspects I know, were we close to them or the victim, etc.
- Haa... - at the end, both detectives let out sighs and glared at me.
- What? I really don't know anything. - The most they can charge me with is underreporting drug dealers. But I don't reckon that'll do any time. Right? - Where's my lawyer, by the way? Don't I have to have one?
- Haa. - Instead of answering my question, the detective just sighed and nodded towards the duty officer, which was rude, because I answered all their questions.
- Hey, is your camera out? - I noticed the light was out. Apparently someone's not getting any funding at all. I felt sorry for my hometown police force.
- Bart, it must be hard being such a moron, huh? - while one of the detectives stood up, the other sprawled across the chair and lit a cigarette.
- А?
- Who'd have thought we'd get you in a rented flat? The head didn't think at all how and where to hide? - It's gonna be embarrassing to say that I wasn't hiding at all.
- You know, I don't really know where you're going with this.
* Bang*
Suddenly my head was slammed into the table. My body immediately tried to react, unfortunately both my legs and my arms were shackled and chained to the table with the floor.
- You had better know that there are no ex-politicians before you touch a relative of Mer Quimby!
* Bang*
*♪ Bang! ♪
The muscular male detective slammed my head into the iron table several times, stopping only when there was a visible trail of blood on the smooth surface.
- Wh-what's the matter? - confused, or maybe concussed, I lost track of what was happening.
*Bang.
After another blow, I wasn't lifted up by my hair. So I was left lying on the table.
- Answer our questions or we'll throw you back in the holding cell, superstar. - The female detective spoke to me for the first time with a kind of joy in her voice.
- AAAAAAARGH!
Who found a way to cheer me up by burning her hand with a cigarette.
- Shut the fuck up!
- Gbhm! - I was further punched in the ribs by a male detective.
- So, let's start at the beginning. - With a satisfied half-smile, the woman flipped through the pages of her journal and read out the same thing she had read at the beginning of the interrogation.
*strike.
- Ahem!...
*Bang*
- Hmfff!...
And with every answer I gave that they weren't satisfied with I was either beaten with my hands, a baton, or my face against the table. If I could, I would confess to everything immediately, but the problem is that I really don't know anything....
- Are we done? - it was only after the call that the duty officer entered the interview room. Who didn't even look at me.
- Take him to the infirmary. His stitches opened up. - after the same officer dragged me like a piece of meat out of the room. The last thing I heard was the female detective saying:
- And get someone to move in here. - I don't know why, but the fact that I'd caused them trouble with my blood at least made me feel good.
-A week later-
* Punch *
- Ghaaaa. - oh, the tooth that was hurting fell out. I guess it's true what they say, all things work out for the best.
The interrogations have been going on for a week now. And yes, they take place every day. And yes, the content is the same. And yes, I've tried to confess everything and take the sins of the world upon myself. But...
- If you don't tell the truth, we'll use your nobility to pin murder, child rape, cannibalism and more on you, Bart. And believe me, we'll stick you with the sickest bastards who are actually capable of all of the above.
- You know. If they say they were set up. I might well believe them.
*Punch*
But as strange as it sounds, the beatings and threats didn't bring out my psychic gift, and the cosmos didn't send me a vision of what happened to the ex-mayor's relative.
- Look, Bart. You know the police have their own people on the streets, right?
- I'm sorry. But I'm surprised I still know my name...
* Punch *
- Shut up and listen when you're being threatened by a lady! - God, I'm already starting to spike these two. They're doing everything together, interrogating, beating and even threatening together. That's what it's like when a couple gets along, isn't it?
- Now, Bartholomew, you don't want one of these people-- At night. Or even in the daytime, while your father's at work and the house is full of women, break in and have a little-- Naughty? How old is your youngest sister? Eight or nine? We're fortunate to know people with different inclinations.
-Shut up, bitch
* Bang *
For probably the first time in a while, I actually got angry. I even lunged at the detective with a threatening look, but the outcome was natural....
I wonder why the mention of family and Maggie made me so angry. I mean, they're like nobody to me. I cut off all contact with them. Then why?
- I've already told you that I'm prepared to take the blame. What more do you want? - with tears in his eyes and pity in his voice, as if begging the detectives.
-Two weeks later-
I don't know how long it's been since my arrest, feels like a couple of years. Every day has been reduced to two unhappy rooms. One bright and pressurised with cameras and a mirror where I get beaten up. And the other, cramped and uncomfortable, which I long for every time I leave... As ridiculous as it sounds.
*♪ Oh baby, baby, baby, baby ♪
Maybe it's because I recently got a record player installed in my cell.
I don't have any control over it and it comes on at random times, but somewhere in the middle of the night. And it plays the same song, which you get tired of the first time you listen to it.....
- Maybe in a couple more days, I'll get to water torture.
With a chance to think long and hard. As bad as I am at it, but here the quantity has gone from quantity to quality. I came to realise why I hadn't gone mad or even attempted suicide until now. Why I didn't get angry at the detectives, to the point of rage, to the point of them mentioning family.
I think it's because somewhere inside me, I think I deserve what's happening. That this is my punishment for all the mistakes I made not so long ago. Punishment for Terry's cheating, for letting down my family, my coach and my country, for not being able to give Gina and I a child a future, for choosing abortion.... Yeah, it wasn't my choice, but I was definitely relieved by Gina's decision. For my relationship with Gina, for delivering and selling drugs. For all the bad things I've brought into this world...
- ...I wonder if I'd ever done anything good.
To a song that was once popular, I continued to bury myself and wait for the water torture that....
-Two days later-
- Strange, the music hasn't been on for two days. Are they trying to get me used to sleeping again? - ... - Out of overwhelming boredom, I began to speak my thoughts out loud to fill the oppressive space with something.
- How poetic.
- Suddenly, an unfamiliar bald man in a green, obviously cheap suit walked into my cell.
- It cost two hundred quid! Complete with tie and shoes, but still! And I'm not bald!' the stranger stroked the sparse hair beneath his broad, head-sized baldness. Thank goodness I remembered how to do it to myself.
- Who are you, anyway?
- Huh? Your lawyer. - What? Is this some kind of setup? - Anyway, your case is closed, you can walk out. If you want, for five quid, I can give you a lift in my car. But you pay for the taxi, and you pay for me, too.
- You want me to pay you five quid to take me for a taxi ride?! - Whoa, Bart, you're asking the wrong question. - What do you mean, I'm free? And what do you mean you're my lawyer?
Did the family find out I was here and hire this guy?
- The real culprits were caught a couple of days ago, and I'm here to make sure you don't make a scene out of a misunderstanding.
- 'Misunderstanding'?! I've been beaten, tortured, threatened!
- That's exactly what I'm talking about. - sighing, the lawyer smiled. - Look lad there are two options, either you agree to the misunderstanding and come out from behind these walls with an angelic criminal record. Or you break the bank in court against a government agency and go to jail along with it, small time, but go to jail for possession and distribution.
...Breaking the bank doesn't sound so bad.
- And if you think breaking the bank doesn't sound so bad, it comes with enemies..... And I think you know better than anyone what some people with a little power in their pocket are capable of. Believe me, these people are vindictive, and nobody's gonna make a fuss over a drug dealer who died in prison. - The man took a handkerchief out of his suitcase, blew his nose and threw it back into the documents. - So, your choice?