Not Just Another Day

Detective Michaels gets thrown for a loop when her "average" day is disrupted.

"Dark and helpless is the only way I can describe how being raped makes you feel. Something dark washes over you to cover all of that nastiness and crap that gets left behind, but the problem is this darkness has no discretion. It covers everything including the very things that should keep you going.  So there you are, alone and afraid covered in darkness with nothing to help you and you hear something. It's like your voice but it's not your voice. I guess the only way I can describe it is you know when you're dreaming and you're in a house and your brain understands that it's your house but when you wake up the next morning you realize that house looked nothing like your actual house, but it felt so right at the time. That is how this voice sounds, so unlike yourself but at the same time so right and familiar feeling. It says things. Tells how this pain isn't going to just leave how you need to do something to stop it. But you don't feel like talking to a counselor or a friend. You feel like dying, or maybe killing. At first it's easy to push the voice away and try to make your thoughts positive, but then you find yourself basking in the peace that the thought of a bullet through your brain brings. Next thing you know you're holding a gun to your head, with a chorus of voices screaming in your mind to do it, to be free and end it all. You're crying and trembling and you want to do it but you're so afraid. So the fear in your brain starts rerouteing you're emotions into anger. You think of how you dying will help nothing besides this beasts sexual desires to be fulfilled with another unsuspecting woman because you did nothing to stop him. To be honest I don't know if this is how anyone else feels, but that's how I felt and that's why I killed him. I don't regret it either. He will never hurt another girl again and I'm proud of myself. The voices are gone too, I finally did something good enough to shut them up."

Cara Thomas's hand shook as she reached for the now cold cup of coffee sitting on the large metal table in front of her. She was surprisingly calm for what she had just endured. A large blanket was draped over her small shoulders making her already petite frame seem almost fragile. Cases like these are the ones that get to me. Over the last ninety-two hours she had been brutally raped and then stabbed her attacker. As I looked into her steel grey eyes I was reminded of how unforgiving this world really is. This girl who could be no more than five foot two, a hundred and fifteen pounds  is now a murderer. I walked out of the small room and was startled to see almost half a dozen people standing behind the two way mirror. Disgust flooded my body."Hope you enjoyed the show." I almost hissed the words through gritted teeth.
"Em relax." my captain reached tenderly for my shoulder but I pulled away. "Assistant district attorney Hardel just wanted to hear the girls testimony. She's deciding wether or not to prosecute."
"It's even a question? She was brutally raped and beaten to a bloody pulp by one of her high school classmates, as far as I'm concerned she did this city a favor."
"Emily, you can't say things like that. I understand that she went through a lot and-" before he could finish a tall slender man with thick rimmed glasses and a stern jaw stepped from behind the ADA.
"I'll take it from here Captain. Hello my name is Howard Marks, I'm a forensic phycologist for the FBI. I was brought in to determine Cara's mental state during the event. I want you to know that I've suggested that the people not press charges." My brain stood still for a moment as I stared into his eyes. He was mysterious and attractive and somehow had completely diffused my anger.
       "That's good. Thanks." I managed to squeeze the words out before I turned to walk away.
       "Wait Detective Michaels!" Howard grabbed my shoulder and spun me around with ease. "I can speak with you if you need it. I'm a licensed phycologist, badge or not."
       "No thanks Dr. Marks." I turned once again and headed towards my desk.
       Entering the main room of the station was always so comforting to me. Instantly my blood pressure dropped as I saw the familiar stack of unfinished paperwork on my desk and the smell of stale coffee wafted into my nose. My chair squeaked invitingly as I took a seat at my small metal desk. As I inspected the cup of coffee that had been sitting on my desk for hours now, I noticed something odd awkwardly balanced on top of my computer monitor. The envelope itself seemed normal enough but it was the placement that seemed odd. Why wouldn't it have been put on my desk with my other paperwork or in my mailbox in the front lobby?
       I stared for a moment until my arm instinctively raised and jutted forward to grab the piece of mail. I fondled the smooth paper for a moment and when all seemed normal I pulled the paper down in front of me to reveal that there was no return address and the front of the envelope only contained my name, printed in black pen. The lettering seemed familiar but I couldn't put my finger on where I had seen it before. Maybe it was just because it was my own name that I felt so comforted in seeing it. "Detective Emily Michaels", so formal sounding after a day around my peers and hearing Em spoken so casually over and over again. I slid my finger under the seal and pulled across hard tearing a straight line along the top allowing me to peer inside. To my surprise only a yellow scrap of lined paper laid inside.
       An address and a time written in the same delicate script adorned the front of the piece of should be trash. I was puzzled to say the least. The Mesa address was foreign to me so I inspected my scrap of mail more closely to find only a single word written more frantically on the back. The word please leaves my lips a thousand times a day at least, but I knew this please was different than the common social courtesy I was used to offering up. This please, so sloppily written clashed with the beautiful penmanship on the rest of the note in a way that cried desperation. Someone really needed my help. Why? I could not answer that but I knew I had to go. I quickly pulled out my phone and typed the address into the gps. The screen lit up calculating for what felt like an eternity.  Finally the screen responded with a message of destination found and an estimation of forty minutes to drive with traffic. I looked at the clock, it was about 10:45 now and I had until midnight. My brain raced with ways to casually leave without finishing my casework when I was jerked out of my own thoughts by a gentle touch on my right shoulder.
       I shoved the yellowed note into my pocket frantically and turned to see both Captain Risell and Dr. Marks standing behind me. Howard smiled keenly, looking at me as if he knew every single one of my secrets including the one currently residing in my pocket. I broke my stare with the doctor in time to see a worried look develop on my captains face. "Yes?" I said, breaking the awkward silence that hung in the air.
       Captain Risell opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out Howard began in his firm tone. "All charges have been dropped against Ms. Thomas, however she has elected to take part in our inpatient therapy for rape trauma victims. She will get the help she needs." He spoke smoothly and I felt reassured with every word that left his lips.
       "I'm glad. She deserves to be ok. I know she'll never be a normal seventeen year old again but at least functioning would be an improvement."
       "Yes I agree." Captain Risell finally spoke up, inserting himself into the conversation and reminding me that I wasn't alone in the room with Howard.  "But that's not all. I think you should go home Em. Get a good nights rest and come back tomorrow to finish your paperwork." before he had finished his sentence I was up out of my chair and grabbing my purse. "Really?" He uttered, shock evident in his voice. " I usually have to fight you to leave."
       "I uhh- guess I'm just tired." I smiled, a little embarrassed by my overwhelming eagerness to leave. I glanced back over at Howard to see him obviously amused by my feelings of discomfort. "Well, I will see you tomorrow Captain and it was nice to meet you Dr. Marks maybe I will see you again." I stuck my hand out stiffly, secretly anxious for his hand to be temporarily wrapped around mine. He looked at my flattened palm for a moment and began to laugh. I looked at my captain confused and a little embarrassed, not understanding what was so funny.
       "Why don't you save that handshake, I'll see you tomorrow Detective Michaels." A mischievous smile crept across his face revealing perfect teeth behind supple lips. Before I could inquire about his last statement Howard had turned and was walking nonchalantly out of the station. I looked to my captain for answers and saw that he too was pleasantly amused by my state of utter confusion.
       "He's been brought on as a member of the team, the district attorney thinks his services will be helpful to our victims, and also help make sure we don't get tricked into any sob stories."
       "Permanently?" I attempted to hide my enthusiasm.
       "That is to be determined but right now it's looking that way." I held back a smile and nodded my head thoughtfully.