Trepidation || j. g ||

| l u c i f e r |

DAWSON'S EYES opened slowly following the continuous patting of water in the distance. He released a low groan, letting his head roll around his shoulders before blinking against the pain in his eyes. Dawson was nearly covered in his blood from the continuous beating he has endured for nearly an entire week. His left eye was nearly shut as it took on a very deep and distant shade of purple. His hands and legs were bound to a metal chair, black zip ties cutting deep into his once pristine alabaster skin. His blonde hair now a matted mess, though his eyes never lost that striking green intensity.

"We're going to try this again, asshole. Tell us what the fuck you were doing out in Minneola Woods at that time? Don't fucking lie-"

The man hissing at Dawson wasn't just any man. He was a police officer. This didn't mean much anyway. These officers, all three of them, were much more interested in the instance of justice rather than that of the law. Detective Poltz, a decorated officer of the Minnesota police department for twenty years now. A lean man with strong features, his smile crept way up the panes of his face. He was eerily charming.

"Not gonna talk huh? I figured you wouldn't. So I brought reinforcements. You know the deal."

A sickening blow to Dawson's face made him gasp for air, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the already tarnished concrete floor as he let his head lull back.

Poltz has tired himself, having to question Dawson with no answers for nearly 24 hours. It wasn't like he would let Dawson see the light of day following their meeting. Poltz needed answers and he needed them quick. One of his fellow detectives went missing a few weeks ago and he knew something was wrong. Jake Abbey had to be involved. He remembered talking to Spencer before he went out that night weeks ago, his dedication to finding Abbey reaching new heights. Poltz took one last look at Dawson before reaching into his pocket and pulling out an iPhone. He raised it in the air, kneeling in front of Dawson's slumped figure as Poltz gave a sick smile.

"What's the password?" He asked simply, only to have Dawson heaven in pain.

With silence as his answer, Poltz tries another tactic.

"Your friends have done some bad things to good people...innocent, even. What I can't understand is, how you're sitting here protecting them. I mean, yeah, we've all got demons to let me tell you," he begins to laugh, his smile nearly touching his eyes.

"This...this is different. We're all men here. C'mon, tell us the password and we won't look through your photos."

Dawson shakes, with anger now more than pain, as he struggles to open an eye. With blood seeping from his once pink lips, Dawson sat up with all the strength he could muster up.

"Fuck you."

Poltz holds his chest in the fake offense as he sucks his teeth at a decrepit Dawson. He slicks his black hair back and seems to fidget with his thick leather belt positioned at his hips.