Morgan sat in the chair, hunched forward, with a constant glare on his face. He didn't give a fuck what impression he gave everyone as they passed. His cheek was throbbing, he had a headache, and his ribs were bruised. Everyone that caught sight of him thought he was brooding. What Morgan really wanted was a couple of aspirin and a long sleep.
When Detective Sven Bjorkland sat next to him with a grim look, Morgan knew he had really messed up this time.
"You really did a number on him, Morgan."
Sven frowned, "There's only so much I can do, but you're going to be expelled. The school is tired of this, Morgan, and frankly I'm tired of it."
Maybe this time they would just throw him in jail and be done with it. He was seventeen years old, after all, and they had a reason. It didn't matter that Morgan had actually been jumped in the alley behind the school by the same group of kids that had been picking on him for the last year. All that matter was that he was nothing and the other kids had family connections. They would get off with a fine, and he would get screwed over.
Morgan was quiet.
"Say something, damn it," Sven snapped, "Why?"
He said nothing. It never matter anyway. They would just discredit him. He had a history of bullying people, all the way back to third grade when he broke Greg Donner's nose on the playground. Morgan had always looked big and intimidating. Even in his junior year, he was still overwhelming. His dark hair was too long, always messy, and he was over six feet.
Originally, his foster parents and thought that putting him in boxing would help. It didn't. All Morgan learned was the correct way to punch someone. The stint in boxing had made him strong and powerful, and he moved quickly for someone of his size.
Sven swore again, and stood up, heading down the hallway. He stopped, and then pulled out his handcuffs.
Morgan looked up at Sven. The detective had been trying to advocate for him since the beginning, when his family were killed. Since the foster and school systems and failed Morgan, Sven had always done everything that he could for the boy. But his patience was waning. He knew that it wasn't Morgan's fault, but couldn't do anything if he refused to defend himself.
Jesus, the boy was ten years younger and taller than him. Sven frowned, and Morgan willingly held out his hands. He wasn't going to fight it. It wasn't the first time someone had clapped him in irons.
"Morgan Johnson, you're under arrest for assault," Sven clicked the cuffs, a look of guilt in his eyes. He didn't want to arrest Morgan, but it was better than another officer doing the honors, "You have the right to remain silent..."