Part Of The Gang- A Ticci Toby Fanfic

Arrest

Tobias Erin Rogers has been found.

That's what the burly police officer was saying into his radio as yet another officer shoved Toby into the back of the Police cruiser.
Toby's head bashed into the frame of the car as he was forced into the back seat, and he snarled through the rag in his mouth, glaring back at the offending officer.
The gag had been added after the handcuffs, when Toby had spat in an officers face, then tried to bite him when the man attempted to drag him to the car.

Toby had fled the burning house he'd grown up in, after deliberately lighting the flame, in an attempt to destroy the evidence within.
His father lay dead on the living room floor inside the burning home, identifying wounds in his chest.
How ironic that the man had died in the living room.
The living room where the small Rogers family had spent many nights laughing and playing boards games, while the local news played on the tv, showing local football scores and upcoming fairs and fun events.
Well, that was before the horrible accident that had killed Lyra many years ago, destroying the little family.
Mr Rogers, Toby's now-deceased father, had turned to alcohol to numb the shock and pain of losing his daughter, and began to physically abuse his wife, Connie, as well as Toby himself, in fits of alcoholic and drug induced rage.
Toby was silent and chose to bear the abuse for years, until the schizophrenic whispers in his fragile, damaged mind flooded his thoughts, and he finally snapped.
He'd killed his father by burying he blades of two sharp hatchets in his body, multiple times, then setting his body, as well as the rest of the house, alight in flames.

He'd run, far and fast.
He had no memory of the escape, as if he'd blacked out.
But he finally found himself in a small, rotting cabin, abandoned in the middle of a small forest.
He'd taking a few days to rest and recollect himself, and then ventured out of the forest to a nearby town, and in the dead of night he'd broken into a small convenience store and stolen supplies to last him a few months.
He'd been moving from town to town every so often, so as to not direct the law enforcement to his location.
But he'd been sloppy.
The last few weeks he'd been tired, too exhausted to skip town again so soon, and robbed two stores, and stayed near the town for a while to recoup.
That's how he'd been found, passed out in a small hideout made of branches in the forest, dried blood on his hands and chin from chewing his nails and lips due to stress.
The police had grabbed him roughly, handcuffing him and throwing him into the back of their car, joyously calling to the station that the runaway killer fugitive Tobias Erin Rogers, who'd been on the run for almost two full years, had been captured, and was currently being driven to the nearby police station.

Toby chewed restlessly on his gag and cracked his neck as the car bumped along the road, taking him to his doom.
He didn't know how exactly he'd been able to throw the cops off for so long, but he'd hoped he'd have at least a little more freedom before they found him.
He wriggled in his seat, the cold metal of the handcuffs digging in to his wrists, causing him no pain, due to his CIPA, but they were incredibly uncomfortable.
The car squealed to a jolting stop as they reached the Police Station.
Toby glared menacingly at the sight of the cop he'd spat at, but the officer merely smirked, knowing exactly what was about to happen to the boy.
Toby was dragged out of the car, and into the station.
He was quickly processed through the system, and taken into a small room to take his mugshots.
A small wooden blackboard was shoved into his hands, with his details written on it, and instructed to face each direction as the photos where taken, which took some time due to my spastic, involuntary movements.
Then he was led down the hall to a iron barred door.
A loud voice boomed out over the speaker in the corner of the ceiling.
"Tobias Erin Rogers. Aged 19. Convicted of Voluntary Manslaughter, and Arson. Cell 38, Ward B. Proceed."
Toby was pushed through the doorway, and led to a tiny cell, with only a small cot, and bedside table inside.
The door slammed behind him, and he spun around.
"Mmmmm! Mmhhhnn!" He mumbled, trying to scream around the gag in his mouth.
He kicked the door hard, taking a deep breath in through his nose.
There was a metallic clank, and the door swung open again, causing Toby to back up against the cell wall.
A young woman wearing a white coat walked in, smiling tightly.
She was followed by an officer holding a small device.
Taser.
"Hello Tobias. My name is Doctor Hallow. I'm here to give you a psychological examination. Could you tell me your full name, age, and birthplace?"
Toby raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed.
She pursed her lips at the boy and gesturedto her guard to remove his gag.
She repeated the question.
Toby repeated his blank stare and raised eyebrow.
The lady sighed.
"Tobias, I cannot help you if you don't cooperate. Now, my reports say that you are schizophrenic, bipolar, suffer from depression, social anxiety, CIPA and Tourette's. Is that correct?"
He just stared at her, a small tick running through his shoulder, causing him to jolt his neck slightly.
The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Tobias..." she began, but Toby finally spoke up, snapping.
"My name... my... m-my name's Toby, not Tobias," he snarled, imitating her high pitched voice mockingly, a sadistic smile playing on the corner of his bleeding lips.
Hallow narrowed her eyes.
"Okay then, Toby," she replied sarcastically.
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
Hallow rolled her eyes at the sarcastic reply.
"Kill him. Why did you kill your father, Toby?" She asked, exasperated.
Toby chuckled quietly, and shook his head.
"Because he... he was an asshole. They t-t-told me that the best way to get rid of him was to just... was to just kill him. Painfully. Slowly. I watched the l-l-life leave his eyes... and I smiled."
Toby laughed internally as he watched concern creep into the doctors eyes.
"Who are 'they' Toby?" She asked uncertainly, all sarcasm gone.
Malice laced the boys' stuttering voice as he replied quietly, cracking his knuckles behind his back.
"The voices. In m-my head. They're always there. Whispering. Telling me to... telling me to do stuff. Sometimes I ignore them. But sometimes... sometimes they convince me..."
Toby couldn't help but let out a small, deranged giggle at the expression on the doctors face.
"Go on, Miss Hallow. Lock m-m-me away. It won't last. I'll get out. I'll... I'll hurt someone. I-I-I always do."
Doctor Hallow stood up, collecting her files.
"Well Toby. Thank you for your cooperation. I think I've collected enough information for now. Goodbye," she muttered hastily, and stepped out through the cell door, followed by the officer.
The door slammed shut, and Toby started laughing, softly at first, then rising to a hysterical cackle.
Dumb bitch.
He flopped down on the hard mattress behind him and closed his eyes, shifting so he could lay comfortably with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
Hopefully his act had been convincing enough to shorten his jail sentence, by proving he was mentally unstable rather than just a murderer.
Hopefully.