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"Can you recount to us once more what happened at Beacon Mental Hospital, Detective Castellanos?"
The other officer's voice was eerily calm and generally off putting, especially when it echoed within the boxed-in space of the interrogation room they were sitting in. The fluorescent light above them that lit the cell-like room was dim, a faint electrical buzz sounding softly that was amplified by the general emptiness of the room. After what he'd been through, it was not unlike screaming.
Sebastian stared at the blue porcelain mug in his hands, two-thirds of the way full that had long grown cold for as long as he'd been sitting there. A blanket was draped over his shoulders and, despite having been freed from the STEM system he'd been plugged into hours ago, he was still chilled to the bone. He could still feel the dampness in his clothing, feel the stabbing pain in his gut where he recounted being impaled. He could still taste blood in his mouth. He couldn't get the image of those eyes—those evil eyes—out of his head, seared into his memory so much so that he saw them each time he blinked. He had been actively putting off blinking as much as he possibly could for however long he'd been sitting there.
Time didn't make much sense to him anymore.
"Detective?"
The man repeated and Sebastian very slowly lifted his eyes from the rim of his coffee cup to state dully at the other man. He couldn't remember his name now. He was expecting any moment to get a headache and watch the man before him become stricken and transform into Haunted.
He thought of Joseph and winced, bitterly taking a swig of the cold coffee to focus his senses on other then the feeling eating at him that told him he shouldn't be alive right now.
"Take your time, Detective." The officer said soothingly or as soothing as an exhausted KCPD officer could get.
Sebastian couldn't muster anything passed a nod at that point. The more he told the story of the ordeal, the less he saw himself in it. He couldn't explain what he'd endured and seen. And the officers could not understand. Try as they might, they didn't bear witness to all he did.
His stare went right back to the rim of his coffee cup as he lowered in back down to the table with a soft click of the porcelain meeting the wooden surface of the table, his eyes drifting to left where an open file lay before him. There were several photos scattered there amoungst the papers and reports, most of them being of the crime scene.
Sebastian slowly moved his hand from the coffee mug, pressing two fingers to a picture and sliding it out from under those covering it. It was Leslie's photo from his file, just the sight of the boy enough to make his jaw go tight.
"Have you...?" He started, not bearing to look at the officer. He already knew the answer to that but sometimes it didn't hurt to verify.
"We have not recovered a body or found Leslie Withers, no. We're still searching." The officer murmured.
He slid the picture back into the pile, staring at the photo of the STEM system.
"We've also not found Detectives Oda and Kidman. The bodies of Officer Connelly, Marcelo Jimenez,..."
The officer's voice became white noise the longer he stared at the photo. He could almost feel the anger and hatred burning within it, all from the center where Ruvik's brain had been piloting them all through Hell—his own Hell.
Had he truly woken up? Was he actually free?
He could still feel hands grabbing at him, every tug on his clothing and every scratch on his skin. He could still smell blood, feeling it soak every inch of him to his very core. He still felt like he was being watched and tested—like Ruvik was still in his head and breathing down his neck. It was an uneasiness and helplessness that not even booze could drown.
"Would you like to look over the file once more, Detective?" The officer asked politely. Sebastian tore his eyes from it, instead examining an ancient ink stain on the wood of the table.
"No, thank you..." He answered almost robotically. He didn't want to invest himself too much in anything. It wasn't assuredly real. Any second, this comfort could be torn away. He had no intention of dropping his guard long enough for that chance.
"Do you need a moment?"
Again, the kind tone to his voice. Kind but empty. It was so familiar to him, the coaxing feminine voice of the nurse behind the bars of the window in his cell and sitting at the desk.
Sebastian felt his eyes go wide and he stared at the table hard.
"Yes, please." He answered shortly, inwardly wincing at the scrape of the officer's chair on the floor as the other stood. He couldn't help but eye him suspiciously, watching his back as he headed for the door. The officer opened it slowly and stepped out, saying something quietly and shrugging at the fellow officers waiting outside the door, all with the same empty look of empathy in their eyes.
He entertained the idea that if this were all real, his drinking would become fault. But it wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Everything was too comfortable and familiar for it to be real.