The man sat seated across from Y/N. A light flickered, and at an instance the light was gun. Y/N was in cuffs seated in a plastic foldable chair.
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The man frowns at Y/N's file. It wasn't thick and didn't have much. Y/N was a clean man, no criminal records prior and was a great man, or perhaps he wasn't; maybe a facade.
The man sighed flickering through the pages, reading a line from a page: "... Was top in his college class.. huh."
He closed the book, leaning forward. "A man like you with a future brighter than the stars.. but yielded to murder?"
The chair was hell for Y/N. He felt angst, ever so often shifting his weight to ease the pain, even if for a second.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Y/N?" He said, making sure he was hearing and not blanking off.
Y/N looked up and the man continued, not waiting for an answer, "A high-school student, up in his class, fairly popular," he started.
"Yet we found your prints on the battered suspect, and the makeshift weapon, and if that wasn't enough we have reports of dozens of witnesses seeing you walk away."
Y/N didn't understand. The man; or so called detective shouted out evidence deep enough to send him for life, and yet he kept talking his lips off.
As if he read his mind, he answered his rooted question: "Yes, we have all the evidence we need but you're still here so maybe there's more needed answered, right?"
The detective plucked a scrap of paper from his pocket. The paper drain of color with a tint of red on the outer edge; barely noticeable with the naked eye.
Y/N squinted while the detective pulled the loose paper closer to him. Y/N saw a phone number, knew what it meant but didn't say anything.
The detective sighed. "It was found on the crime scene, a few feet from the body. Perhaps it owned to the victim, or you?"
Long silence filled the small square room. Y/N felt himself sweat being in here. No air conditioning, no opened windows, just the heavy summer day seeping through the building.
The detective's lips clamped. He checked his watch and sighed. "It seems to late, Y/N, your rides here."
Y/N winced silently as suddenly the door creaked softly. Two men armed with pistols in their holsters snatched his arms. They squeezed heavily as he cursed in his mind.
They made their way close to the door, before a scuffle appeared behind them. A police officer and a... high-school student?
What crimes did they commit, he thought. It soon turned to a barrage of punches, as both the officer and student wrestled on the tile floor.
