_Author’s Note: This is an excerpt from a book I’m making, so please don’t worry if the font is different! It is copy and pasted from my own google document! Without further ado, please enjoy._

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 The light flickers above a man tied down to a chair. His hands are tightly snug around his back, and his expression is knocked out cold. The sound of a door could be heard opening, and then it would shut again, quietly, yet loud enough to scare a mouse or rat back into the crevice of its hiding spot in the cold stone walls. The other man that had walked in sighs quietly as he takes his seat across from the knocked out individual, and speaks up.

 “Alright Mr. Calhoun. Listen up. We know you’re wide awake right now, and we don’t want to make this any more of a struggle than we have to already. Now listen, all we want from you is to answer our questions, and then we’ll let ya’ go. Got it?” The man says, his stern tone of voice letting the other individual know that he isn’t one to fuck around with. There is more silence in the room for a moment, being so quiet and intense that it could kill a person. Then, the man in the chair, now known as Calhoun, leans his head up, his eyes locking onto the interrogator’s pair.

 “Psh. And what makes you think I’ll tell you anything about that?” Calhoun replies, a smirk dusting on his face as he cracks his neck. The sentence would emit a sigh from the interrogator, as he looks the trapped man once more over, the frown increasing on his face. Looking over the man as well, Calhoun could see that the interrogator’s nametag pin had shined in the light. It read as so: “DET. BROOKS”. Calhoun knew too well to not mess with a detective, considering he had already known David’s first name.

 Brooks sighs in response again, shaking his head as he continues to speak up, his eyes not leaving the man once. “You know, you really did quite a lot on poor Ricky last night. Left the man with quite a lot of bruises and a couple cuts. He’s all patched up though, and now look at where we’re at. We’re both here, talking to each other.” Brooks sternly replies. Calhoun knew who the other man was talking about. Ricky Vaughan was one of the most optimistic people Calhoun had met before, and he hated him with a bit of a strong, fire-like passion. He wasn't entirely sure why, but the gravedigger couldn’t ever seem to shut up, and that made Calhoun want to give him a harsh slap across the face.

 “That’s a shame. I was hoping to cause some more damage to him.” Calhoun replies monotonously, his eyes narrowing. Both of the two men knew what was about to happen, and before the tied up man could cry uncle, Brooks slaps him across the face, hard enough to cause bleeding or a bruise. Calhoun coughs, a bit of blood escaping his mouth, as the cough turns into a laugh, a one filled with malice. Brooks’s eyes narrow now, as a small and barely noticeable growl escapes him, but then he would stop and sigh quietly, a disappointed expression now forming on his face.

 “Listen, Calhoun, I don’t want to make this any more harder than it needs to be. Just… explain to me why you had such an outburst that night, then we can both go home and pretend like this never happened, okay?” Brooks would ask, a slight moment of lightheartedness in his current tone. Calhoun stares at the other man, a flicker of surprised shock on his face, then he scoffs, groaning quietly. Another moment passes, and the air in the room is still cold as ever. Calhoun absentmindedly taps his foot on the floor, as if deciding what to do, then speaks up, murmuring a quiet “fine” underneath his breath.

Brooks would nod in response and stand up from his original position from where he was sitting on the chair, and walks over to Calhoun, crouching down behind him to start untying the ropes as he hears the man speak up. “I… haven't really gotten much sleep at night. Well, it starts off normal, and then I feel like I’ve barely gotten more than just a couple hours. I’ve tried almost everything, sleeping pills, studying and staying up late, taking a hot bath before I sleep…”

 Calhoun would trail off as he felt the ropes finally falling off and being removed from his wrists. He stands up, rubbing his wrists as a small huff escapes him, having the feeling he knows that there is going to be some sort of bruise or marking there tomorrow. He would adjust his blue tropical-looking blazer around his white shirt, and continue.

 “But to put it short, I’m an insomniac. That’s why I’m acting like a horse that has lost its head.” Calhoun scoffs in reply, stretching, his back making a cracking sound as the joints are tensed. Brooks would chuckle in reply to the other man’s statement, and fix his dark brown hair, slicking it back some to keep it from frizzing up.

 “I’ll take that as a good enough answer. Come on, you still need to get your I.D and belongings back. It’s at the front.” Brooks sends a smirk to the other man’s way, unlocking and opening the front door to the interrogation room, and letting Calhoun step out first. Calhoun would simply just gaze at the other detective, and murmur something intelligible as he steps out into the main area of the station.