Fun Night Out

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I-- I-- oh god, this can't be happening."

"Please, calm down and tell me what happened."

A broken sob crackled through the phone's speakers. Rachel bit her lip and began triangulating the caller's location, seeing as they were obviously too distraught to produce that information themselves. It always broke her heart when the callers were like this, especially when she knew that sometimes their panic caused further complications.

"Are you in danger?" she asked. "This is very important, so please focus."

The caller hiccuped as they struggled to form a coherent sentence. "No," they managed, before falling apart completely. The sobs on the other end continued, interspersed with apologies and strangled gasps. Rachel shoved aside all sympathy and affected a cool, professional tone as her computer, finally, read out the caller's location.

"I have you on Bellevue Street, near the Home Depot. Is this correct?"

"Oh god..." The voice on the other end was a ragged whisper, a hair away from complete hysterics. Rachel listened carefully as the victim drew in a steadying breath and responded, "Yes. Please just..."

"It's okay," she cooed. "It'll be all right. The police and an ambulance are on their way."

Going by regs, she'd done her job and should have hung up, but instead she said fuck you to the rules and whispered soothingly to the distraught victim while they waited.

Once she heard the distant wail of sirens from the other end of the line, she said, "The police will help you, I promise. Just answer all their questions, okay?"

"Okay." A sniffle. "Th--thank you..."

A warm smile crossed her features. "It's my job."

Faintly she could hear a police officer asking the caller what happened and took that as her cue to hang up.

::::: ITS A DIVIDER DEAL WITH IT :::::

Alex squirmed in the chair, legs crossing and uncrossing as the anxiety built and the pain increased. The throb started low, very low, and in a place that shouldn't have seen daylight. Not without a "yes, please, there".

"Alex Waldon, was it?" The police chief's eyes were cold, void of any emotion, and barely left the incident report in front of her.

Mutely, Alex nodded. The pain was getting to be unbearable. The doctor had said it would be fine, given time to heal, and that the internal tearing wouldn't prove to be an issue in the long run, but the sickening sense of wrongness still pervaded Alex's system.

The chief huffed her breath. "Right. So, could you describe what you were wearing when the assault happened?"

Fear drenched Alex in ice water. "Why does that matter?" Voice cracking pathetically, Alex cried, "I was--" The dreaded R word remained unsaid, rotting in the annals of memory and flesh. Panic seethed, a riot under skin gone pale with the chief's every word.

The woman's sigh was long suffering. "Look, I'll just come out and say it: what you're wearing, who could blame your 'rapist'?" The air quotes hung heavy in the air, slimy and full of condescension. "You practically painted those jeans on. Anyone dressed like that would seem like they're looking for a good time."

Alex couldn't believe the officer's words, nor the matter of fact way she delivered them. Fury gave Alex the strength to snap, "I said no!"

"Well, according to witnesses, you not only approached your so called rapist, you became aroused."

Tears burned and ached to be released, to be allowed to roll down bruised cheeks, but Alex steadfastly refused to let even one drop. That would be tantamount to admitting defeat to this bitch.

"You understand you can't just start something like that with someone and not expect them to want to finish it, don't you?"

Silence. Fury. Pain. Shame. Regret. Depression. More shame. More pain.

"I'm sorry, but it just looks too much to me like you started something you couldn't finish. It can hardly be called rape."

Despite Alex's best efforts, the tears broke finally free. Then came the horrible, damnable hiccups and full on sobs.

"Spare me the waterworks, Mr. Waldon."

With that, the police chief gathered the half-finished incident report and left the room, slamming the door unforgivingly behind her.