False Report of a Crime

Patricia is no less stunned than I am, but my feet permit me to move as I lurch forward. She follows shortly after, terrified no doubt as the officers appear more focused on her running than me. My heart leaps in my chest as it finally clicks: the Gem Law Program, it must be working, right?! I almost cry as the possibility of getting away with my crime becomes a possibility… and a lead weight falls immediately on my rising heart as I remember the other half of this bizarre turn of events:

Patricia getting in trouble.

I look back at Patricia, still at the doorway, still scooping her breasts against her right forearm with her left covering her pubic mound, as she stares up with wide, fearful eyes at the authorities she had called to save her. “P-Please let me get dressed first.”

“We'll call a female officer to come by and search you,” Officer Wayne explains in an obviously rote manner, “but it's too late to go get dressed, now get out here.”

Patricia shakes her head fearfully, which the officers don't like. Officer Sheen barks, “We are ordering you to comply.”

“Um, O-Officers?” Only Officer Wayne snaps to stare back at me for daring to interrupt this scene. “Can I ask... what she's in trouble for?”

“She called in to report she was just **** by David Haines, and that her **** was still in the house. You're David Haines, right?” With ice dripping down my spine, I nod dumbly. “Exactly, and since that can't be true, that's a false report of a crime, which is a first-degree misdemeanor.”

It... can't be true? Is this how the Gem Law Program works? The leap (or rather lack) of logic in the cop's words knock any reasonable response right out of me as the officer waits for some sign of my acknowledgement of a basic truth.

“I won't say it again, Miss, get out here,” Officer Sheen snaps with greater anger in his voice.

A different kind of worry finds me now... and hey, isn't the program supposed to keep her out of trouble too? But I can barely manage the courage to dare the question that must be asked. No, no I have to stop this... whatever she tried to do, I can't let her go to jail! “B-But... that means you can't arrest her either, right? Since she's... Patricia Matheu? She’s immune too, right?”

Both officers now focus on me, and Patricia too as tears well in her eyes. “Sir, false report of a crime isn't a sexually-motivated offense, and therefore she's not immune,” Officer Sheen explains with more incredulous sarcasm than that bizarre statement should have, “that means- listen, kid, leave the law to us, alright? She'll get a lawyer who'll explain the whole thing.”

Slowly it clicks into place: that's right, the Gem Law Program is just for... sexy crimes, not regular... oh shit, Patricia's going to jail?

“I'm... I'm going to jail for reporting a ****?”

I have to stop this. How? How can I stop it?!

“I won't say it again, get out here or I will make you get out here.”

How can I make calling the cops on me sound... sexy?! And as I watch her tremble with terror, and feel my legs turn to jelly, a stupid, stupid idea pops into my mind. “It... It was... It's my kink!”

A nice, gentle breeze blows by.

Both officers slowly look at each other, then at me for further explanation.

“She... she called it in because... it's kinky, it's... it's a fetish. My fetish, h-ha. Gets the blood boiling during... sex, you know?” I nervously laugh. The officers do not laugh. “Knowing police are... coming to arrest me, gets me hot, gets her hot, it's... it's to enhance the sex, you know? It's why she... did it.” Lying to the police, David? Isn't that a non-sexy crime?! Wait, I just re-incriminated myself! Fuck, fuck-!

I hold my breath for as long as it takes Officer Wayne to slowly parrot, “So she called it in... to make things sexier?”

No words can describe how bizarre it is to hear that out of the professional, toned frame of this policeman. Officer Sheen perks up with worried eyebrows as he hisses, “Doesn't that make it... you know?”

“I know damn well what it makes it, rookie,” the taller cop snaps for the first time since they got here. “And you two... tell us that first next time, and... hmm.” The officer sniffs at the air again with a look back. “Make sure to clean up in there before it becomes a health hazard, alright?”

The situation de-escalates as fast as it escalated, and soon Patricia and I are both receiving small case cards with hand-written notes on them and a pamphlet on domestic ****, the latter given to us for no reason I can decipher. By the time the cop car rolls away, I'm slowly re-entering the house, card and pamphlet in hand, wide eyes slowly drifting up from it to see Patricia's own terrified face. As I close the door out of habit, I realize that her terror isn't from barely avoiding arrest... but of me.

Her knees shake as she regards me, and her lip trembles as tears roll down her face. “Who... are you?”

That's a good question, and from her perspective one with no good answer. It’s also one that keeps coming, but another sarcastic recitation of my name doesn’t feel right, here. Patty here is “aware,” no matter the app’s settings, and my powers over her and others will never be normal. What could I say to her? What would console her at this point?

The truth, I suppose.