CHAPTER 17 : Don't Wake It Up!

In the middle of this hot day, should he thank the cop who just threw water on him?

 "Sir... isn't it too much?"

 "What do you mean too much?  This child has been proven guilty.  We just need to make him admit it."

 The middle-aged man with his distended stomach stood up while giving a low look.  A cruel grin that should not be visible on the faces of law enforcement officers, was clearly etched on his face.

 The other men on the man's side couldn't do much other than silently watch.  Meanwhile in front of them, a young man in school uniform sat cross-legged on the floor. 

Water dripped from every wet part of his body.

 "How long are you going to be quiet?  You better be honest now."

After saying that, the man – who seemed to be in the highest position in this place, sat down on the available chair.  His eyes were loyal to look, right at Deandra who still chose to remain silent.

 "Haahh… you know the situation don't you?  The more stubborn you are, the longer you will be here."  Say him again.  Still trying to get Dean to talk.

 "I've said the truth.  It wasn't me who impregnated Erika."  Deandra answered in such a calm voice.

 His head, which was originally bowed, was suddenly forced to look up when one of the four officers began to grab his hair.

 "You're so stubborn aren't you?  I already said.  Answer Honestly."  The man said while giving Dean a threatening look.

It's not that Deandra doesn't understand the meaning of their sentences and their views on him.  But of course he will not easily give them what they want.

 "Isn't it Funny?  I think the word honest has only one meaning.  But in this place there's more variety meaning of being honest."  Deandra smiled at the end of his sentence.

 Suddenly the smile and speech that felt presumptuous made the man in front of him gave a kick right into the stomach of this poor young man.

 "Akh!"  Dean grimaced loudly.  For a moment he even had trouble catching his breath.

 His body fell lying curled up on the floor.  The pain in his stomach made this young man squirm for a moment, while his hands which were cuffed behind his back could not do much.

 "Kids act too much!"  the beater snapped.

 They obviously thought that one kick was enough to knock the young man down.  After all, he was just a schoolboy.  Of course they did not expect what reaction Dean would give afterwards.

 "Khh... hahaha!"

 A painful moan slowly turned into a light chuckle.  Not long after, Deandra actually laughed.  His laughter echoed through the interrogation room.  Making the four men in the room silent for a moment, confused when they saw his behavior.

 "This kid has gone mad!"  Pout one of them.

 "Enough playing around!  Quickly make him confess before the investigators get here!"  Said the leader again.

 Dean could see the change in the expressions on the faces of the three of them.  One of them came closer, then pulled him to force Dean to sit up unconcerned even though his stomach still hurt.

 This time, for some reason they looked anxious and in a hurry.  While one of them was busy holding Deandra to maintain his sitting position, the other one approached and immediately thrust the cellphone screen in front this young man's face.

 "Just watch this again!  Look?  Here it is clear that you are surprised.  And there's no way you'd be surprised if it weren't for you being the child's father!"  he said urgently.

 Dean gave a lazy look at the video clip on the phone screen.  They had shown him the tape more than ten times that enough to make him fed up.

 "Anyone would be surprised to hear that someone was pregnant out of wedlock.  Especially if you hear directly from the person herself.  My reaction is natural, and it can't be used as a benchmark.  This evidence is not strong."  Dean said at length while still looking lazy.

As expected, pain was the reward he received for his answer.  This time, the man in front of him gave a slap that produced a blush on his cheeks and blood on the corners of Deandra's lips.  The sound of a slap echoed in the room.

 "I told you to be honest!  Just be honest!  You see these comments?  Some of those who commented were friends who went to the same school as you!  They were all sure it was you!"  The man snapped.

 What the man was chattering about was getting more and more absurd.  Hearing that, Dean couldn't help but feel annoyed.  Now his gaze looks so cynical and condescending.

 "Are you an Idiot?  Since when can opinion be evidence?  No matter how many million people say, opinions are opinions."  So annoyed, Dean forgot to filter his words.

 A feeling of shame that was quite intense attacked the middle-aged man.  To cover it, of course he had to launch several punches accompanied by loud screams.

 "Insolent brat!"

 The sound of smacking, groaning, and yelling filled the room.  To be honest, Dean didn't expect that a single sentence from him could get him hit in a row in several parts of his body.

 "Fuck!  This man has a high self-esteem."  He grumbled in his mind.

 Not sure how long the man will beat him.  To be honest, Dean could still bet on the one possibility that they wouldn't beat him to the point where he could no longer speak.

 "Enough."

 The gamble paid off.  Although a little late, finally one of them ordered the others to stop.  The man backed away with discontent etched clearly on his face.

Deandra curled up, clutching his stomach that felt tight while trying to get air in between the pain.  It's not much.  When compared to ten years of hard life in prison, this was nothing at all.

 Although unable to lift his face to raise his gaze, Dean could feel several eyes staring at him intensely.  They were looking for a loophole to push him back.

 Right after seeing the young man's body stop squirming, one of them drew near again.

 "You know?  This isn't the first time we've come face to face with a crook like you.  They are self-righteous, pretend to feel the most abused."

 The man spoke in such a cold and threatening tone.  But Dean still didn't want to give up.  He's having a hard time adjusting to this world, there's no way Dean want to go to prison again.

 "Haha ... same here, Sir.  It's also not the first time I've met someone like you.  The apparatus, instead of arresting the perpetrators, choose to create the perpetrators themselves."  He sneered.  A cynical smile broke out without caring about the blood on the corners of his lips.

 For a moment Dean thought he was going to be hit again.  But strangely when he looked up to take a look, all he got from the middle-aged man was none other than a cold stare.  Of course, that doesn't mean it's a good sign.

 "You're smarter than I thought.  It's good that you know."  The middle-aged man spoke so casually.

 Even though his vision was getting blurry due to the pain that was afflicting his entire body, Dean could still see clearly when the man in front of him raised his hand to his left.  Not long after, one of the other men handed him an object.

 Dean gasped, his whole body stiffening.  He knew what it was, and he knew what it would be used for.

 "We create perpetrator.  So what?  After all, we only target the people involved.  It's your own fault for being involved in this case."  He said so casually.

 A bad feeling strikes Deandra.  Just as the two of them started to force him to sit back down and this time with his back to their leader, and even pushed him so hard that Dean couldn't help but have his face pressed against the wall.

 "Crazy!  This is crazy!  Seriously?!  What do you want with Pliers on your hand!?"  His mind screamed.

 Slowly but surely, Deandra began to panic.  His hands which were handcuffed behind his back became the only easy target for the men.  There was no other reason, and Dean couldn't think of any other possibility.

 "Wait sir!  Just wait a moment!  Let's have a good chat, shall we?!"  Dean started babbling.

 Unfortunately, these uniformed gentlemen don't seem interested in compromise.

 "You and the victim had an illicit relationship, which ended in the victim's pregnancy, and you who did not want to be responsible ended up making the victim despair and committing suicide.  Right?"

 The man behind him spoke with great emphasis.  But that's not what makes Dean produce a lot of sweat on his temples.  But the hand that felt gripped and forced his hands behind him was open.

 "…." Dean bit his lower lip and decided to shut up.

 While the iron pliers began to pinch the tips of his thumb nails, Deandra closed his eyes tightly and instead remembered the last sight he saw of Erika's hanging body at that time.  A second later, something appeared in Deandra's mind.

 "She was murdered."

 One low voice made all the men in the interrogation room fall silent.  Meanwhile, Dean – as the speaker, was silent again and didn't seem willing to explain what he meant.

 "He was murdered and not suicide?  You killed him?"  asked one of those in charge of pressing Dean's head against the wall.

 "...."

 Once again, Dean was silent.  It made him – who had been putting pliers between the young man's thumb nails for a long time, feeling impatient.

 "Then we will change the scenario.  The victim is pregnant, complains to you, you panic and choose to kill the victim.  We can arrange the method of killing later.  Agree?"  said the man ended the question.

 The pliers moved slowly, causing Dean to wince but not enough to make the young man agree to the bullshit they were making for him.

 "You have ten chances to agree.  During that time, I don't mind if you want me to keep asking."  Threatened the man.

 Deandra tensed, sweated, and trembled slightly.  He knew what the man meant.  Ten chances meant ten of his fingernails would continue to be pulled out one by one until he agreed to their scenario.

Not that Dean has never had his fingernails pulled out.  He has, often.  So often, that he didn't want to feel it anymore.

 "Okay one...."

 "Sir!  Sir, don't be serious, Sir!"

 "Agree?"

 "...."

 Deandra is in a dilemma. He was about to scream in panic when the man pulled the pliers on his nails.  Yet when the same man questioned consent, again Dean fell silent.

 "I can help you to find the culprit!"  Dean screamed in despair.

 "The method?"  Asked the man behind Deandra's body.

 "W with ... an investigation.  Or anything that the police do?"  Dean chuckled at the end of his sentence.

 "...."

 A crossroads appeared on the foreheads of each of them.  This time Dean really ran out of opportunities because he had made the four men feel like they were being toyed with.  A second later, Deandra could feel the pain centered on the thumb of his right hand.

 "Sir sir, SERIOUSLY DON'T!  SIR!  FUCK! SIR!"

 Deandra was hysterical, but the man behind him was deafening.  In the end, one of the poor youth's fingernails was slowly being pulled off.

 "ARRRGGGH!!"  Deandra's scream filled the interrogation room.

 His entire body was shaking violently from the pain.  Deandra closed his eyes tightly, while the stinging on his thumb was getting worse when the bare skin covered in blood came into contact with the air.

 Two of them who are in charge of keeping Deandra's body still, grimaced when they saw the amount of blood coming out of the open wound on the young man's thumb.

 "Okay, you only have nine more chances.  Agree?"

 Reluctant to give a pause, the same man immediately grabbed Dean's right index finger.  But instead of returning to panic and fear, Deandra seemed to remain silent as if one fingernail being pulled out had succeeded in making this young man lose consciousness.

 "Hey answer!"  One of them snapped.

 Meanwhile, Deandra seemed to be in between conscious and unconscious.  His gaze fell on a fingernail lying with blood splattered on the floor on his right side.

 Something bothered Deandra's mind.  A memory, a sound.  Someone he never stopped listening to when he was in prison.

 "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.  That's how we can survive in this world."

 One blind eye, and long hair that was rolled back.  Deandra could never forget that figure.  The one who had helped him survive as the only teenager in the prison, and at the same time, the one who had turned him into this person he now.

 "Stubborn huh?  Then one more f-"

 Smash!

 "ARGH!"

 "Sir!?"

 Ah, he failed again.  If this is the case, who do you think is to blame?

 To be continued....