Run!

You drop the napkins, put the car into reverse, and spin your tires getting the fuck out of here! You hear the cop shouting for you to stop but it's just background noise. You spin your car around and start speeding out of the lot, almost hitting a boy as he gets out of his Jeep. By the time you leave school grounds you can hear sirens behind you. You need to get out of here! You pull onto the main road and start putting distance between yourself and the school. You have no plans beyond finding somewhere to avoid the officer. You run a red light and get honked at and your heart is beating out of your chest. You turn towards a vacant lot you know about that used to be a big shopping complex only to find another cop car parked on a corner. They watch you whiz by at almost twice the speed limit and take off after you, lights and sirens blaring. You start to tear up as you watch them follow you in your mirrors. How did this all happen so fast?!

You focus forward again and everything seems to happen all at once. A black cat darts in front of your car and you reflexively spin the wheel to avoid it. You see the wall approaching a split second before feeling an incredible pain rip through your body followed by darkness.

You wake up feeling drowsy and sore all over. The air tastes stale and has a strange smell to it. Somewhere, a machine beeps rhythmically while other spin up like computers. You groan in discomfort and a woman in scrubs appears, standing over you.

"You gave us a real scare," she says sternly.

"What happened?" you wheeze.

"Well, you got into a car chase worthy of an action movie and totalled your car. You're lucky you made it out as well as you did but it'll still be months before you fully recover. Your parents and the police are here and will want to speak with you. Stay here, rest, and try to keep calm."

She leaves without another word, shutting the door behind her. Your mind reels as you go through the crazy morning that led to this. Suspicious, you lift your blankets and gown. Your arms burn with the effort but you have to know. You're in a hospital gown so someone dressed you. And if that's true then the nurse would have said something, right? Still, you're a little afraid to look.

You see a pair of beige colored panties. And nothing else! No bulge! You let out a sigh of relief. It was just a dream! It must have been! Only...the car chase had been real. So, what the fuck had happened to you this morning?

Your mother and father appear through the doorway, your mother already crying and rushing to hug you. It hurts but feels good at the same time. Behind them is the safety officer from school and another uniformed officer you don't recognize.

"Sweety, what happened?" your mother sobs. "I know you must have had a reason for doing this. Were you running from someone?"

You feel tears well up in your own eyes. You break down crying and she lends you her shoulder and soft cooing noises to calm you.

You croak, "Mom! Dad! I...I went to a party last night! I got drunk! I don't really remember it, but I think maybe I took something or someone **** me or something!"

Your parents and the police listen quietly. This is the only thing that could make sense so you continue spilling out your confession/theory.

"Whatever it was made me forget about last night and it's been affecting me all day! I can't stop thinking about sex and I've been hallucinating! I'm so scared!"

Your parents comfort you while the cops remain stoic. The safety officer from school gives you a funny look but says nothing.

The nurse appears from behind the police and says, "There were no **** in her system that we could detect but there were traces of **** in her blood. Whatever she took could have already worked through her system or just be hard to find after she lost so much blood and fluids."

You check yourself and find that you're covered in bandages and hooked up to an IV. You really did a number on yourself.

"Rebecca, I'm Sergeant Walker," says the other officer. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about this party, if you don't mind."

In exchange for being tried as a minor for your various traffic violations you rat out the hosts of the party. While the **** you took isn't found, several other illicit substances were found to have been at the party and a lot of people who went get into serious trouble. After that most of your friends avoid you, calling you a narc behind your back. It hurts but over time you make new friends who're more wholesome and less into the party scene.

Years later you return to the precinct feeling like a new woman. Today is your first official day as a narcotics detective. Even after all these years you've never found out exactly what you were **** with but you've felt compelled to protect people from having the same experience you did ever since that day. Life as a beat cop hadn't been kind. It was hard, sometimes dangerous work and left little time for a social life. But you managed, and even found a supportive boyfriend, now fiance, who understands how to help you decompress after a long day and when to give you space. You receive many congratulations as you pass by various desks and give nods in return. You almost make it to your new desk when Murphy, a detective in the sex crimes division, stops you.

"You got a minute?" the grizzled older man asks you.

"Uh, sure? What do you need?"

He simply nods for you to follow him and starts walking towards the interrogation rooms. Murphy was a good guy and you'd worked with him on several cases. He took his job seriously but not himself, a good combination in your book. He takes you into one of the observation rooms and flicks on the lights. Sitting at a metal table on the other side of the one-way mirror is a tall woman with short red hair and a lot of piercings.

"Victim?" you ask.

"Perp."

Your eyes widen but only for a moment. It wouldn't be the first time Murphy had caught an offender of the female persuasion. He starts typing on the room's computer, bringing up footage of two women, including one who looks vaguely like the perp, fighting in a back alley. Well, fighting might be a bit overselling it. Whether it's the perp or not the woman in the video towers over the other one and mostly drags her about the alley like a rag doll.

"This was taken from a security camera outside of 'Tito's Best Bar and Grill'. Apparently her and the victim knew each other."

You watch the fight play out on screen. The other woman is a lot smaller and more delicate looking than the quasi-goth sitting at the table. Her short dress gets ripped to shreds by the other woman's bare hands and she unzips her pants and starts...

"What the...?"

The perp, or whoever the fuzzy image is, just bends the other woman over and pulls down her jeans to reveal a long looking penis. She then proceeds to ram it into the poor smaller woman before Murphy pauses the recording.

"Strap-on?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

Murphy shakes his head and says, "None that we could find. And according to the victim she's packing the real thing. Now, the lawyers tell me we can't just have a medical examiner make her drop trou because the video isn't clear enough for that kind of invasive search. Thing is, an old retired buddy of mine says that you might know something about this sort of thing."

You gives you a knowing look. You look away and towards the woman in interrogation. She's sitting perfectly still and you could swear she's staring right at you. And then she grins.

"Took five officers to bring her in," Murphy continues. "She threw one of them twenty feet into a car, sent all of them into traction. I need every lead I can get on this one."

Seems your life is just destined to be fucking weird.