Private Dick

The following story is the early rough draft of my upcoming novel. I decided that i might upload the stuff as i write it to get audience perspective on the scenes

After something truly horrible happens, you arent really able to focus on it. It’s like trying to grab a hot metal rod after you just burned your hand on it. Only an idiot would want to hurt themselves all over again right?

Well memories can be really painful. Memories of betrayal can cause emotional pain, memories of an abusive partner can cause mental ****, and if I start thinking about that damn needle, I get a lot of psychosomatic physical pain in the back of my damn neck.

Never felt this weak before. Trauma would do that, so will hunger and exhaustion. Once met a guy, real piece of shit, who starved his daughters so they’d look like princesses. Kept them homeschooled. Only found out about them cause the girl collapsed on her front lawn getting the morning mail.

Sure wish I could feel a nice lawn right now. Or pavement. Or anything except this decade old rug and paper-thin bedsheets. Guess I could be lucky that they even gave me bedsheets, but its hard to be grateful of psychopaths for not kicking you while you’re down.

How’d I even get here? Again, it’s difficult to remember the truly horrible stuff cause your mind doesn’t wanna get hurt. Well, maybe if I go back a few hours earlier I can trick my brain.

I was… well I guess I still am, Officer Richard Brown. Well, maybe im not, you go missing after a while they assume you’re dead. Well until I get a clock in this room, it’s still the day I left, Wednesday, August 12th. I was running my route along 5th and Madison, Downtown, and the Pharmacy. That’s what I call Miller St. Can’t walk down there without finding some new **** or needles. Made my quotas easy to fill

When you become a cop there’s a few reasons you give. Wanna help people? Wanna clean up your neighborhood? Well it doesn’t matter what your ‘noble’ intentions were, once you become a cop, there’s only two choices: Dirty or Filthy. And baby, I was flithy as they come.

You’re required to get so many arrests every week just to prove you’re not sitting on your ass, collecting a paycheck, but it turns out, there’s not actually a lot of murderers and mafia dons to take down and be a hero. You’d think that’d inspire you, make you realize the world is a better place than you thought it was, nah

Just because the world is nice and quiet doesn’t mean you can just tell your boss that that’s why you didn’t catch any criminals this week. “There’s always criminals, just gotta know where to look” Once you start looking for criminals it becomes surprisingly easy to find them. Turns out loitering is a really easy crime to comit just by saying it happened. Suspicious Behavior? Gosh, Chief, everyone sure looks suspicious these days.

So that’s what I was doing on Miller Street. The week was running slow and I needed to catch someone. Not many options that day. My usual suspects were either in rehab, caught by someone else, or sleeping their high off in one of the smoke houses. The Chief doesn’t let us do raids down here anymore, since enough gangbangers signed protection agreements with us. Afterall, whats a cop really, but a gangbanger that’s sponsored by uncle sam himself

Well lady luck came my way and her name was Carmilla. It was late enough in the day for her to be making her way down to the stripclub for her shift, in another five hours I could dig her up for her other shift as a street walker, well, if I was a paying client

I flipped the siren on and pulled my car over to her. “Nice night for a walk, Cam?”

“Get off my ass, Richie, im going to work”

I got out of the car and circled the hood, eyeing up her body. “Oh I know. A real working girl, aincha? And with your record and those clothes, hard not to tell what kind of work you’re doing.”

“C’mon, Richie! I’m going to the Tom Cat. You know I don’t do that work this early in the day.”

Oh I knew she was innocent, but I was also a working lad, and with the clothes she was wearing, it was easy enough to believe she was turning tricks “Do I? dressed like that? Besides you basically just confessed right then and there, baby”

“All I said was I wasn’t turning tricks right now.”

She shivered as I put my hands on her hips. “You calling me a liar now? I wasn’t an especially ugly, man, but the uniform had this kind of effect on women. That, and the fact that we’ve done this song and dance a dozen times already basically spelled out how this exchange was going to go. Either she starts ‘working’, or I start working. “Maybe we can settle this down at the station? I’m sure it won’t take more than five hours down there. Tony will understand right? He’s so forgiving when his girls miss their shifts”

“You’re such a bastard.” But she knew where this was going and led me over to the nearest dumpster to bend her over. I had a condom, not because I was a gentleman, but because I wasn’t an idiot. Even if she was clean, I wasn’t gonna deal with a bastard any time soon.

Plus, it always brought a smile to see them scoff at the Extra-Large sized condom, only to shut up when they realize it fits my cock like a glove

Carmilla dropped her shorts and pulled her tights down. One of the advantages to fucking girls who hate your guts is they’re pussies stay nice and tight. Its alwys funny seeing dudes brag about how tight a pussy they fucked was. Just goes to show they couldn’t satisfy their woman. Well I wasn’t trying to leave Carmilla begging for more either, but I at least was self-aware enough to know the difference between love making and hate-fucking.

And despite how big I was, all it really did was make me a lil desensitized. I need a bitch squeezing down like a vicegrip to get the full experience.

Some might see this and call me a dirty cop, but every cop is dirty, I was straight up filthy. Every cop is going to push people around, bump up charges, give a parking ticket when its clear they werent breaking any laws. But a lot of them like to pretend they’re ‘just doing their job’. Filling out quotas will make you think that, but then I think about that gun that hangs by my side and the taser that im supposed to use instead of it. Once you realize we’re the only group of people allowed to just kill someone and get no worse than a slap on the wrist, you realize people like Carmilla and people like myself, are completely different classes of people

Once you realize that simple truth, its not really an **** of power anymore. It’s an entirely appropriate amount of power. And once the rose-colored goggles come off, you stop caring about things like ‘reputation’, ‘honor’, and ‘integrity’. You realize you’re a dirty cop, then you realize everyone in the **** is dirty, they just don’t know it yet, and so the only difference is you wear the dirt with pride, and before you know it, you’re filthy.

So now I charge kids with loitering outside highschools, plant **** on the homesless, and **** fat-ass prostitutes to put out or I’ll lock em up. Hell, if I feel like it, I might just arrest Carmilla anyway. We didn’t sign a contract.

I can do whatever I want. Slap her ass, pull her hair, I could put her handcuffs and fuck her in the back of my car. All I’d need to do is make sure it gets cleaned first of IA will chew me out for it.

Or just cum in the condom and throw it in her hair like a 12yo boy. What can I say, when you can do whatever you want, you devolve to juvenile hedonism.

“F-fuck you, Dick. Hope you **** on your own dick and die” She buckled as she tried to get her legs to stand up after the pounding I gave her.

I decided I’d be merciful and leave her in that allyway to clean herself up. I had other people I could arrest to make quota, I had my whole life ahead of me… or I thought I did. Maybe also I was soft on Carmilla, letting her off easy because I’d known her so long. We’d done this song and dance for 3 years now.

Well either way, I should have just made my way to the car and been on my merry way… until I heard Carmilla freaking out. “Rich! Rich!” she’d never talked to me like that before, and I could see why. As soon as I left her alone, some homeless-looking guy had crawled out of the shadows and was trying to have his way with her too. Trying to get my sloppy seconds.

You’d think a heartless bastard like me would have just let the guy do whatever he wanted, and certaining I wanted to do just that. But there was something else I wanted to do far more than that.

“Hey! Police! Get away from the woman!” I didn’t want to go through the paperwork of killing a hobo, especially since I might hit Carmilla, so for once I did in fact reach for the taser. But as I got close, the hobo rushed me and I felt something sharp go into my stomach.

Carmilla’s screams kept me a little awake as the pain flooded my body. I saw the homeless man’s face. It was cleaner than I’d expect. Strong jaw, scar over the left eye that was partially healed. Something recent. His hair was cut very short, also recent. Clothes were too nice to be rags found by a bum.

As I dropped to the ground, I expected to see blood all over my stomach, only to instead see a small syringe plunged in my gut. I still don’t know why I found it so funny, but seconds before I fell ****, I gave a chuckle. Maybe the surprise was more than I could handle?

Well, that’s what I was trying to remember, anyway. How I got here.