A Thin Line - Part One: The Felon
#1 of A Thin Line
See the original story at http://www.furaffinity.net/view/14899020/
This is the first part of a series of short stories based upon the character of Damien Hawthorne. This chapter serves mostly as an introduction to who exactly Damien is. It is a very short chapter, but future parts should be longer, or at least that's the plan.
Please let me know of any typos or what not. This part went through some re-writes, so if something doesn't make sense, please let me know :) Feedback is more than welcome
And finally, the owl was here. He knew this moment would come, but it still seemed so surreal to him. The dead, white walls of the small room they put him in saw the same story time and time again, but he knew he could not betray his friend, not for anything in the world. On the opposite end of the room, embedded in the wall, was a large one-way piece of glass. His reflection stared back at him, judging his choices he has made in the past, but came to the realization that he does not regret any of them.
The owl was old, and he did not enjoy being awake this late at night. The police woke him up and brought him to where he is now in the police station. He was not wanted for a crime, at least he hoped not; but he was affiliated with a wanted man. You see, the owl was a physicist, a shrink. His specialty is in war veterans struggling with post-combat mental disorders, like PTSD. He was renowned for his practices and success rate. He is often commemorated for his patience, which spans way further than anyone could imagine. When a certain new patient appeared at his door, little did he know that this new patient would soon land him to where he is now, in a police interrogation room in the middle of the night.
After what seemed like half an hour, the only door leading into the room popped open, and two men in suits walked in, closing the door behind them. The first man in was an older looking male dog, an Irish Wolfhound; he looked as unhappy to be awake at this hour as the owl did. The second man in the room was a younger looking detective, a German Shepherd, carrying a folder in his right hand. They both walked over to the same table the owl has been sitting at, and sat down on cushioned chairs, much better than the metal one they gave the owl to sit in.
"Doctor Michaels, Jared Michaels, is it?" said the younger dog. His voice was deep and threatening, not that it bothered the owl. The dog pulled some papers out of a tan folder.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
"Sir," continued the dog, barely giving enough time for Michaels to finish his sentence, "you are the doctor of a man named Hawthorne... Damien Hawthorne" reading from the papers he had in his hand.
"That I--"
"It says here you graduated with your doctorate nine years ago, married twice, divorced once, second wife..." The dog paused for a second, as if he had to go back and reread something he saw on the paper, "oh, I'm sorry, Jared."
The owl didn't reply, he just stared at the dog as suppressed memories of his late wife flooded his brain.
The wolfhound, who has been silent this whole time, finally spoke up, "Let's get down to the point of why we brought you in here, shall we?" The wolfhound had a raspy, quiet voice. "We are looking for Damien Hawthorne, and our sources say that you were the last one to speak with him before he went missing."
There was a pause in conversation, as if the two dogs were waiting for the owl to leak like a sieve so early.
"He's a felon, wanted for murder, don't you understand that?" said the younger detective, patience wearing thin.
"Indeed, I know Damien, but I also know his story. That man is braver and has more honor than everyone in this very room combined, and I have the upmost respect for this man you call a 'felon'. The blood he has on his hands a result of the war our government put the boy in. And I'm not lying when I say that I have no clue where the boy is. I might have been the last one to see him, but he did not share that information with me. Now if you excuse me, men, it's very late and I am very tired." He began to stand up from his char.
"Hold on, doctor!" Said the older dog. Michaels paused, took a deep breath and sat back down.
The young detective got up from his chair, put his hands on the table, and leaned towards the owl.
"Doctor Michaels, if you know something please tell us." He said, visible agitated.
"I do not know what you are on a--."
"Don't bullshit me!"
"I've done no such thing." The owl remained calm even as the detective became more and more pissed.
The young dog walked away from the table, whispering vulgar language under his breath. The older dog sat back in his chair, not saying a word. From the expression on both of their faces, the doctor saw confusion, frustration, and then exhaustion. Both detectives took turns questioning the owl, using different approaches to try to get the doctor to give them the information they were looking for, but to no avail. They had no idea where to go from here. They both were convinced Michaels was withholding vital information, but at the same time, their arguments were running weak. The investigation was stonewalled.