A/N: Hey y'all, I'm back! This chapter is much longer than my previous ones. Before I get to the story, I want to thank my new beta reader, CarolynneRuth. *enthusiastic applause*
Now, without further ado...
Everything's grey. The floor, the walls, the ceiling. All grey. Even the table in front of him. Grey. There's an incessant ticking from some unseen clock that echoes through the room.
Tick, tick, tick...
They're trying to get to him. Trying to make him uncomfortable. He knows that. They think that he'll just spill his his guts, if they wait long enough.
He yawns and puts his feet up on the table, allowing his chair to lean back on two legs. Then he pulls lightly against the cuffs that bind him to the chair.
Officer McCarthy had brought him into the interrogation room almost an hour ago. Or he thinks it's been an hour. Maybe it's been longer. Or shorter. He can't tell. That stupid clock ain't helping much.
Finally, the only door in the room springs open. Three people enter the room: the interrogator and two cops. The cops lean against the wall on either side of the door. The interrogator sits down at the table, across from him.
"Good morning, Mr. Winston. Did you sleep well?"
Dallas rolls his eyes, "Yea, I slept great. I mean, it's not like I was dragged out of my room at 3 o'clock in the mornin'."
"Good." The interrogator smiles at him, his tone is over-friendly. He slowly tears the cellophane off a pack of cigarettes in his hand before holding them out towards Dallas, "Would you like one?"
"What brand?"
"Camel."
"Hell no."
"Alright then," He lights one for himself then puts the rest in his pocket, "I'm assuming you know why you're here?"
Don't say too much.
"McCarthy said somethin' 'bout a murder."
"That's right, Robert Sheldon. Did you know him?"
"Nope." A bang resonates around the room as Dallas removes his feet from the table, dropping his chair back onto all four legs, "What's this got to do with me?"
The interrogator's voice is flat and monotone when he speaks next, "At the moment, Mr. Winston, you are the only suspect in this case.
Dallas laughs, "Your kidding, right?"
"I'm afraid not. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and your going to answer truthfully. Understand?"
Truthfully? Ha!
Dallas shrugs, "Sure."
"Where were you between the hours of 2 and 3 o'clock this morning?"
"At Buck's."
Pony and Johnny showed up there at about 2:30.
"You were there the whole time?"
No, I left at around 2:35.
"Yea."
"What were you doing?"
Tryin' to sleep, my ribs were hurting... Now that I think about it, they still hurt.
"Well, he was havin' this party and I was hopin' to get lucky with some broad I met."
"So you were with a girl?"
"Yea."
"What was her name?"
"Sylvia."
"Does she have a last name?"
"Peterson."
"Tell me about her."
"She's got her hair dyed a darkish blonde, has brown eyes and she's got curves in all the right places. She's also a fuckin' slut, always hangin' onto a different guy every night. We have a kinda on again, off again relationship."
"So you were no where near the east side park, correct?"
I was there, just not 'til after the murder - I mean self-defense...thing. Yea, that makes sense.
"Correct."
"Did you know about the murder before I told you?"
Yea.
"No."
The interrogator leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, "Okay, just to recap, you were at Buck's because you were hoping to get laid with Sylvia Peterson, who is your on and off girlfriend?"
Seems like an okay alibi.
"That's right."
"Well Mr. Winston, that leaves just one problem."
Problem?
"What's that?"
"I don't believe you."
Suddenly, the smaller of the two cops is behind Dallas. The cop grabs ahold of his shoulders to restrict his movement. The other cop moves to stand right in front of Dally and grins at him.
Shit.
The interrogator grinds his cigarette out on the table then walks over to stand next to the bigger cop, "I'm going to give you another chance. Where were you between the hours of 2 and 3?"
"I already told you, I was at Buck's."
"And you were there the whole time?"
"Yes." The interrogator nods once as a signal. The biggest cop slams his fist into Dallas's cheek. Dally's head snaps to the side from the force of the impact. Dallas glares daggers at both the cop and the interrogator.
"Try again, Mr. Winston."
"I was at Buck's the whole fuckin' time!"
"Wrong again."
The cop strikes again, hitting Dallas in his stomach and chest. The cop behind Dally keeps him from doubling over and the cuffs on his wrists keep him from fighting back.
"Let's try a different question; What were you doing while you were supposedly at Buck's?"
"Hangin' out with Sylvia."
The interrogator signals to the cop again. It takes longer for the blows to stop this time and by the time they do, Dally's breathing has been reduced to smothered gasps. The cop had unknowingly jabbed his cracked ribs.
Fuck, now my ribs really hurt.
The interrogator grabs ahold of his chin and forces Dallas to look at him. "I know your lying. I talked to Buck Merrill before I came in here. According to him, you asked to borrow his car so you can go pick Sylvia up and left his place at about 2:30 in the morning. What do you have to say to that?"
He talked to Buck? Damn it, he was drunk as hell, of course he told them the truth. Probably couldn't think of a lie... Or didn't care. Eh, can't change that now.
"He's lying."
The interrogator laughs in his face then releases him. He turns to the cops, "I'm done with him." The interrogator exits, leaving Dallas alone with the cops.
The bigger cop uncuffs Dally's wrists from the chair then proceeds to cuff his hands behind his back. The cop grabs his arm and drags Dallas to his feet.
"I've got him from here."
The smaller cop leaves. The other cop leads Dallas out of the room and down the hall, towards the holding cells.
"You must really like this place."
Dallas, for once, doesn't respond. The cop just continues talking, "You know, I always knew that one day you wouldn't be leaving this place. I never took you as the murdering type though." He shrugs.
Finally, they reach the third cell of the right. His cell. His second home. His first if you don't count the Curtis house.
The cop releases him into the cell. "See ya around Winston." Then he's gone, leaving Dallas by himself.
Dallas walks over to the lone sink and rinses his face with cold water. He sighs then looks into the mirror to examine the damage done to him. Angry red marks cover the left side of his face, already starting to swell.
He pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it to the side. Similar marks cover his slim torso, along with deep purple bruises covering his ribs.
Is it even worth it?
Dallas stares at the marks, feels the pain, and imagines Johnny in his current position. The idea makes him feel sick. He drops his head, breaking eye contact with his reflection. There's no way he would ever let Johnny end up here. Especially when there's something he can do to prevent it.
It's worth it. It's definitely worth it.
A special thanks goes to;
CarolynneRuth
liramona
Unknown identity 90
Lovetoread75
Pi
woottonshelby13
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