Physical violence is a form of communication that is typically stressful for the communicating party, the listening party, and any party witnessing the violence unfold. Generally, sentient beings that have developed an awareness of agency and empathy avoid harming each other physically; violent methods of communication often result in reciprocal violence, not to mention the self-inflictions that are born of guilt.

Admittedly, there are few more effective means by which to communicate; the second pain is introduced to a relationship, hierarchy and control immediately follow. Violence presents transparency from the start- there are no transactions, this is not a two way street- one agent is, at least for the moment, oppressing another. There are even systems and frameworks by which a violent person can easily express themselves on a regular basis without fear of counter-attack, like penal systems that use violence to maintain control.

Small-town authorities, for example, might have a certain amount of lee-way using violence in a tourist town if a long-standing member of the summer-dwellers is found dead in her home. If the suspect has no ties to family nearby, no known friends, doesn’t vote in elections, and is generally a considered a nuisance, this window of opportunity widens a lot. Locals and tourists alike might openly cry, "I don’t care what you have to do to catch this maniac! Not in this town! Hang the man!" While this perspective of outrage and violence against a suspected party isn’t entirely rational (due to lack of insight regarding the facts surrounding this murder), it is a fairly typical human response.

To be fair to the police officers in question, getting this kind of call-to-action from constituents is really stressful.  

A person who has been struck in the face by another person (particularly if the second someone knows what they are doing) never forgets it. Others might empathize with a similar feeling if they’ve ever run into a wall head-first at moderate-to-fast speed. That experience however lacks the repetition of brutality that comes with being beaten actively; it lacks the pain and fear that live in the question, "When and how does this end for me?"

As it was, Tom’s interrogation wasn’t going very well for any of the parties involved. The police chief watched impatiently through his reflective aviators and the one-way mirror. The interrogating officers hadn’t started asking Tom’s face any questions, but they’d plied his softer belly and slightly-less-delicate ribs for answers, unfortunately Tom’s ribs weren’t providing helpful answers.

"So you don’t recognize this woman?" One officer, leaning against the wall behind Tom casually, broke his repose to tap the two photographs of the woman, placed before-and-after style in front of Tom. Tom knew he shouldn’t answer a thing until a lawyer showed up, but the confidence and impact with which these officers conveyed their questions and follow-ups led him to believe the local defense attorneys wouldn’t be much help here. 

Tom’s initial horror at the second picture wasn’t lost on the interrogating party; Tom couldn’t bring himself to even look at it.

"I do recognize her officer," Tom said exhaling the words painfully. "It’s like I said, I see her at the - saw her at the diner that I visit every day."

"So you do know her." A statement, not a question.

"I don’t know her," Tom repeated with a note of dismay, "I’ve seen her but -" a thump and a crack issued from Tom’s ribcage as another officer disagreed with his answer. Tom went dizzy from the pain, and his words were cut sharply into a cry. It was not a dignified cry either; Tom clearly hadn’t been practicing his painful sounds. One of the officers snickered derisively.

"Yes, we have established you know the victim. Can you tell us why someone would call us to report you having an altercation with this woman?" The officer continued in his painless, authoritative voice. Tom wracked his brain visibly for the right answer.

"My boat-," Tom wheezed as he inhaled, "-gone missing, I did ask-" he wheezed again on his wordy exhale, "-about it but I was, polite. Can’t think of..." Tom trailed off woozily, his voice broke slightly, and his eyes rolled back into his head. This sometimes happened to Tom when he was overstimulated or stressed. When neither yelling nor cold water could wake him, the interrogating party took a break.