Heir to the Richmond Empire

Chapter 4: So Much Pain!

“Are you ready to confess or do we still need to take this interrogation session further?” The tall man with a scar on his face who'd become Dexter's kinsman of pain, asked as he forced his fist onto Dexter’s already bleeding face.

Dexter groaned and spat blood.

“You – you've been asking me that –” he coughed and spat more blood as his head lolled forward. “– that question f– for the past th– three days. And j– just like before… I don’t know what you are talking about!” Dexter yelled the last sentence with all the strength he could pull out of his already mutilated body. He felt pain. And anger at the fact that he was going through so much pain for something he knew nothing of.

Sergeant Deem stood and stared at Dexter, his teeth bared as he tried to dissect the situation. Finally, he spoke up.

“Fine.” He turned around and picked up a damp towel from the table, wiping his bloody fists. “You leave me no choice.”

He rushed hastily out of the room, frustration carved in the hunch of his shoulders.

Immediately he left, Dexter burst into tears. How could this be happening? How can someone sleep and wake up in captivity and torture? He really hated his life. Why did bad things always happen to him? He had been a good person all his life but each time bad things kept happening to him.

He had been tortured brutally since the moment his eyes had opened. His last memory had been of collapsing onto the pavement.

He'd been beaten so much that his vision had become very blurry and the pain in his head was too intense for him to bear.

He was innocent of the crime he had been accused of! He hadn't participated in any bank robbery! He'd begged them to check with his ex-wife's family but they'd snickered and said he could never be associated with such people.

There was no hope for him… he was going to die here. He thought to himself as the tears continued to stream down his face.

The door opened and Deem entered, accompanied by another man who had a weird look and a very bright smile on. 

Why was the man smiling?

Chills ran the length of Dexter's spine. That smile was obviously not because Dexter's situation was comical.

“Oh confess already!” The weird-looking man exclaimed in a cheery tone. Then he grinned even wider and took a sip from his Starbucks coffee.

“I’m not sure if your body can take what’s about to hit it so this is what will happen. I'll ask my question once. And I only want the correct answer. If you remain stubborn by giving me the wrong answers, this session is going to be extended and –” he smiled broadly, his eyes hard as stone “– the intensity is going to be so much more.”

The man warned. His scary smile still in place.

He turned around to set his coffee down.

“But first, how about an introduction? I'll go first. My name’s Mark Michaels. I go by the name Smooth. What's your name?”

Drawing on the very last dregs of his strength, Dexter tried his best to be audible as he said,

“Dex– My… name is Dexter.” 

He adjusted his knees. The knees that'd been hit multiple times with spanners yesterday. The pain was unbearable.

“Good boy! Dexter is such a nice name but… it isn’t befitting for a criminal like you. Nevertheless, we just made progress, and see, nobody was hurt! This is what I was talking about! You work with me, and I’ll work with you too. You are happy, I am happy. And let’s not forget my friend over there is happy too.” He pointed at Sergeant Deem.

He paused then walked to the window. Then turned around sharply. His smile gone and his face as hard as a rock.

The tension in the room suddenly skyrocketed and Dexter squirmed in his seat, wondering what evil was going to befall him now.

He was so soaked with sweat that he was sure the officers thought the tears streaming down his face were sweat as well. He could barely raise his head to look at Smooth’s suddenly silent form.

He moved forward and bent low, his face only a few inches away from Dexter’s. He was so close that he could hear the sound of every breath he took in.

“Now for the moment of truce. Where are the other guys with whom you robbed the Finbas bank on the night of the twenty-third of October, 2020.”

His voice was all seriousness and for a moment Dexter wished he'd actually robbed this bank so he could tell them and the torture would stop.

But he was innocent! And that was the truth!

“Please!” He sobbed. “I didn’t accompany anyone to rob any bank.”

Smooth sighed.

“Deem roll in the tray. I’m no longer interested in being nice,” he said quietly to Sergeant Deem.

Deem jumped up immediately and was out of the room in a second.

“P– please,” Dexter begged. But Smooth said nothing.

Deem returned almost immediately,

“The Police Chief has arrived and he's requested for all inmates to be brought out for inspection,” he announced with a hint of urgency.

“Damn. You’re lucky. But trust me it's not going to last for long. As soon as he’s done, it's me and you again.” Smooth snickered.

Deem unchained Dexter and dragged him up.

“Let’s go!” He yelled as Dexter crumbled to the floor, unable to stand. He pulled him up viciously and dragged him out of the room. “This is going to be quick. And don't you dare create a scene.” He warned.

“Are these all the inmates?” The Chief demanded.

“Yes sir!” Another sergeant affirmed, throwing a salute.

“Make them file up on a straight line.” The Chief requested.

“You heard the Chief all of you! Line up!”

Deem and other sergeants pushed the inmates until they were all standing in a straight line, some of them barely able to stand as they trembled, threatening to topple to the floor.

“Your hands.” The Chief requested as he got to Dexter.

Dexter responded by weakly raising his hands. His head bent forward, and his vision blurred.

The Chief's mood changed seconds after. He looked into Dexter's face searchingly. Then peered at the tattoo on his wrist.

It was a sigil well-crafted beyond an ordinary tattoo.

Dexter had had it all his life. He'd never known what it was or meant, it'd only made him look cool but currently, all he could hope for was that the tattoo would not cause him any more suffering.

But things took a sudden odd turn when the Chief, his eyes wide in shock, took some steps back and saluted Dexter. The officers not knowing why their boss saluted a prison accused of robbery joined in confusion to salute Dexter.

“What was happening?” Dexter could only wonder.