Two of a Few - (TordTom)

Figures - 32

They forced the two inside of the building and into a concrete room with a one-way window, and an interrogation table. Although Tord was obviously not sane right now, and Tom was going through a traumatizing event, they needed to ask before they forgot any details. Both of their handcuffs were linked to the tables in front of them so their hands could be seen at all times. The second the officer pulled away from locking them there, Tord shook his head a little and stared up at him, as if just realizing what was happening.

The officer left the room and another man entered, sitting across the table and sighing while holding a clipboard with some questions and such, along with a place to write notes down. "Names." He asked first. "Tom." Tom replied, starting to shake and cry. "Tord." Tord responded, no emotion yet. "Now tell me what you did." He went right to the interrogation, glaring at the Norski with dried blood on his cheek.

"I killed a man who carried a weapon and stabbed me." Once again at the memorization, Tord looked over to his arm which ached terribly, however the blood was rather hidden with the red sweatshirt. "Where were you injured?" He asked, looking over to the one-way window and nodding someone inside. Another person entered with first-aid supplies and lifted up the sleeve where Tord nodded to. They calmly opened up the box and took a surgery needle and thread, beginning to carefully stitch it up. Tord hung his head and tried to ignore the pain as the slough of questions kept pouring in.

"And Tom, what did you do at the time?" He looked over to the scared boy who kept shivering and had a bit of dried blood on his neck. "The m-man who stabbed him bit m-me right before, th-that is why I am bleeding. I-I watched... I w-was scared." He sniffled and let out a sad whimper. Although he was appearing rather innocent, they were both treated like equal suspects as they should be.

"Did you kill the man?" The man asked. "I think so." Tord responded, a little bit of confidence in his answer rang through. "How did you kill him?" He inquired. Tord lifted his head as the stitching had finished and his arm was wrapped up in gauze, "I grabbed his hand with the knife and made him stab himself, then grabbed the hilt and began stabbing him repeatedly in a moment of fear and uncertainty. I was afraid I was going to die." He still lacked most emotion. 

The first aid person left the room and shut the door. Tord stared in their direction, at the corner of the room. "Did Tom have anything to do with the killing?" He asked and they both replied 'no' simultaneously. Tord jolted a little and turned to his side, staring at Tom as if not realizing he was there, then blinked a few times and snapped back to reality. "What is happening?" The man asked the odd Norski. "Fuck." Tord replied, trying to focus his eyes.

"I think he's a little out-of-it right now." Tom stated, watching as Tord kept looking in odd directions then shaking his head. "Do you know if he has any disorders or mental illnesses?" He asked. "I-I don't think he has any, no." Tom kept watching as Tord moved around strangely. The door to the room opened and they were both carefully unlocked then forced out by two officers, who led them into two separate and small waiting cells. Tord was pushed in then tumbled against the wall and sat down, staring down at his own cuffed hands. Tom was pushed into his own cell forcibly then sat down too, looking at the concrete flooring.

Dark figures moved around Tord's vision, almost in a sometimes colorful sweeping manner, as if something was coming at him. He could tell his vision was just playing tricks on him yet he kept panicking and trying to dodge them by twitching or jolting. It was scary of course, but he couldn't really sense any emotions for the time being.