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I slip through the halls of the precinct early in the day, carrying a stack of papers and adjusting my glasses. Nobody questions a paralegal, at least not down at the Dockside station. It’s a disastrous excuse for a municipal building. Especially after last night’s campus bust. They’ve got their hands full, dividing up the busload of college kids between a couple of different jails.
And Hellena wound up at this one. I really shouldn’t care. That information is all but useless, holds no value, except to me. Because I can’t stop thinking about her.
I need to know she’s safe, especially since she’s in here because of me.
See, somebody called the cops. I know this because I was tailing a client’s kid, checking up on who little Miss Priss is sleeping with, making sure she’s not caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And boy, was she ever.
Normally, I would just hang in the background, keep an eye out, gather info, and report back. Then, it’s up to the client to intervene or act based on what I learned.
But sometimes, like last night…
Very few people know Tyler, or the raw version of him, me, that comes around every now and again. I always hated the name for what it was, a stamp given to me by my father to honor himself.
It’s not who I am. I am not like my father.
Which is why I chose my own name to go by. It keeps a wall up around me, protects my secrets, my backstory that no one but me has a right to. With good reason.
See, Tyler can’t stand certain things.
Like the frat guy I found trying to hook up with my client’s daughter Stacy while she was completely unconscious last night. It’s that kind of filth that I can’t tolerate.
It piqued my interest when I followed her upstairs, watched her stumble into a room with her girlfriend. I took a lap and thought my job might be done until I heard a deeper voice coming from the room. He's mumbling, but she’s not saying anything. So, I slip into the room unnoticed, silent as death.
It was dark. Her friend’s nowhere to be found, and I could tell from the light coming through the window that she's completely out. The twisted fuck leaning over her was tussling with her clothes trying to get her undressed. He's slurring some shit about how much he loves her, how much she's going to love him, how good it's going to feel.
I wait, just to make sure, to see if she says anything. Protest, consent.
Nothing.
That thing inside me makes me twitch.
I hate it. I do everything I can to keep it from making me… do things. Wash my hands until they’re chapped and bleeding, flick a light switch on and off, unlock the door nine times. It sounds silly, but it’s intrusive. Controlling.
And those are the easy things. Sometimes, it’s debilitating.
A stain on my shirt means the shirt goes in the trash. A hair in my food means I don’t eat for a few days. And the list goes on.
So a stain on the world, like this piece of shit about to assault a girl… My arm was around his neck before I realized I'd moved. The crook of my elbow hooked under his chin and I pulled back.
One. Two. Three.
Certain things take certain periods of time. It’s one of those little quirks that I can’t help but keep track of. That organization helps me keep my tics under wraps.
A precise count later, and he’s limp in my arms.
Part of me wanted to keep going, going for the ‘final’ count instead of the ‘unconscious’ count. But that’s not worth the risk and the stain it would leave in me, one I would find impossible to scrub off when I got home.
Instead, I checked the hallway, tossed the fucker over my shoulder, and found another room to dump him in… the one with the passed out linebacker sleeping completely nude. I tuck him under the burly boy’s arm after tossing his clothes out the window. A little thrill shivers through me as I slip back out of the room, leaving a delicious little mystery, a dirty scandal for that shitbag to clean up tomorrow.
Right before his life ends when the cops come for him.
See, I also flipped through his phone and found some truly disgusting pictures he took of himself doing what he was about to do to Stacy with several other women. Which I promptly forwarded to SHPD’s sexual crimes division.
Enjoy prison, dickhead. See how you like getting taken against your will.
At that point, I was more than ready to head home, but I poked my head in to check on Stacy one last time, only to find her puking all over herself.
