When word got around that a rookie had been killed, they turned against you. Nobody else was capable of it, right?

After hours of torture, you finally told them what they wanted to hear. You admitted to something you didn't even do and now you're rotting in a cell.

Gaz stares down at you, his gaze full of a distant hatred that pained you to see. He slowly crouched down and grabbed the bars before resting his head against them.

Not a word fell from his mouth. He just stared at you.