The only thing that stuck in my mind was the fact he said she reported the attack a couple of days ago. Could that mean she waited a day or two before she went to the police? And if that was the case, is it possible that my DNA was gone by then, and with it, any link from me to her? A flash of guilt washed over me from being more concerned about my safety than a woman I'd just learned had been brutally beaten and then murdered, but only briefly. However unfortunate the situation was for her, my own life, my family, my freedom was now at stake.
“She left behind a husband and little boy, did you know that?”
The images of us in the stall, and then her with the big fuck that chased me down the alley flashed into my mind. She apparently didn't give that much of a shit about her loving husband at home, but who was I to judge. The hypocrisy of my thoughts brought a sour taste to my mouth.
“But no,” Officer McCann continued, “you wouldn’t care about that. Somehow, even though you have a little fucking boy at home yourself, who is lucky enough not to have an animal like you take their mother away, you can't even empathize. You sociopathic fucks are the worst of this society. It would be a real sense of Karma if someone were to do the same to your wife wouldn't it."
I shot up to my feet, but only made halfway before the cuffs around my left wrist pulled me back down to the metal table. "That's the last time you mention my wife and kid like that."
“Or what? You piece of shit. Go ahead and tell me, so I can go and talk to the D.A. and see how many more charges I can cook up for a sick fuck like you after threatening an officer.”
“I don’t even want to see my lawyer anymore. I demand to be let go. And I demand to be let go immediately. I have rights. You can’t leave me here indefinitely because I match the description of some sick fuck out there. Hell, for all you know those victims with their faces beat in could be the guys who assaulted her.”
“Goddammit!” Officer McCann pounded his fist down onto the table. “I hoped you would confess on your own. But how about we try this." He turned the laptop back around to himself and began typing furiously. "There were two cameras with video footage from the night. Now, until recently, there was no way of knowing for sure exactly who the perp was. I have a little girl at home myself, see. When she was a toddler the only way she would own up to something was if I showed her all of the proof I had, regardless of whether or not I could tell her exactly what she did, and how I know she did it. She wouldn't fess up until I showed her the proof, literally backed her into a fucking corner. So here, take a look at this..."
Officer McCann spun the laptop back around to me and hit the enter key. A video began playing. It was dark and grainy, but it immediately took me back to that night. It showed me turn the corner and sprint halfway down the alley, towards the position of the camera, and then stop at the dead-end at the lower edge of the field of view. I knew it was me even though there was no way to make me out from the poor quality on screen.
Moments later the big guy turned the corner, as well as the others, including Chocolate. The images flashed back into my mind with astounding clarity, and I was reliving the events all over again as I watched them on screen. They spread out and started approaching me, just the same as I’d remembered. As I watched on, my pulse quickened, reliving the fear from knowing I was far from earshot of anyone I was from help.
They approached, and I held my ground, just as I remembered, then I rushed them, and the image flashed in my mind as I watched, mentally returning to the alley in vivid detail, but it was the last thing I had remembered from that night, and I held my breath as I watched on.
I was now watching myself on screen as if it was a movie, except it was real. The man tried to lazily lung at me as I closed, as if to grab me, but he was drunk and sloppy, and I easily sidestepped him and threw a left hook that had the full weight of my momentum, starching him stiff as a board as he fell face first into the brick wall behind me, and remained there. The other two came onto me at the same time, the big guy at the lead. There was a blur of fists and limbs as I held my own against the two of them, returning three sharp punches for every one of the sloppy shots they managed to land on me. I found myself critiquing my technique in disgust, getting caught by punches that would have never made it through my guard had I been sober. But now, the three of us were trading sloppy blows, with me still having the clear edge in technique.
I moved to the edge of the chair and leaned in as I noticed the first guy that had come at me begin to recover, but I was too focused on the other two at the time. The guy stood, made like he was going to take a step towards me, but then paused. He bent down and picked up an object from the ground. Straining to make out what it was through the grainy monitor, my best guess would be a pipe or some sort. He came at me from behind. I noticed him when he was already on me, and turned directly into his swing; the object caught me clean in the ribs.
Things went downhill from there. The big guy grabbed me from behind in a bear hug, and the guy with the pipe struck me twice more, this time in my thighs. The big guy let go of me, and I dropped to the ground. From there they put a sustained beating on me, thankfully not using the weapon anymore. It was mainly kicks and stomps, to my head, face, and body.
Then the three stopped suddenly and spread a few steps away from me. Squinting through the grain of the footage, it looked like I’d started convulsing. Chocolate began pulling on the big guy's shirt and managed to turn him around, and they all started walking towards the mouth of the alley when my body stilled. I watched myself slowly climb back to my feet, and the three guys stopped walking towards the mouth of the alley and turned back around to me.
I rushed forward, and the footage must have glitched because I was on them faster than a blink of the eye. It was a savage attack with me swinging a flurry of wild, looping punches, knees, elbows, anytime I was in range. And each time they closed the distance to grab hold of me, I tore into the flesh of their necks and faces with my nails and bit chunks off of any arm that did manage to grab hold of me.
Nothing they did affected me. I didn't even bother trying to block or dodge their attacks; I allowed every punch they threw at me to land. The asshole with the pole landed easily a half dozen fully winded up shots, straight to the back of my head, but it didn't so much as slow me down.
Things went from bad to much, much worse for them when asshole with the pole ran directly into my elbow as he tried to rush me from behind, and dropped the weapon. I kicked the big guy in the groin when he moved to grab it, and when he doubled over, I grabbed the pole near my feet and came up in a swing that looked like another glitch in the footage because it happened so fast I couldn’t see the full motion. The big man flew back clear off his feet, easily a half dozen feet, and landed sprawled flat on his back.
I stood looking at the pole, which now had an ‘L' shaped bend at the middle, and the other two froze. Chocolate rushed over to the downed big guy as I slowly approached. I pulled Chocolate off of him and tossed her to the side so hard she rounded off the wall, hitting her head and doubling over, needing to place a hand against it to keep herself from falling. Then I brought the pole down on his face again. Then again, and the pole bent back the other way in a ‘v' shape. I grabbed both ends, and I saw myself straining, and then the pipe snapped in half. I used both ends to beat him three more times, bringing both halves up and down in unison.
The asshole that first picked up the pipe tried to run away, followed a step behind by the other guy. Unfortunately for them, I was closer to the mouth of the alley; they needed to pass me to escape.
Asshole ran into a fully winded upswing of one of the poles causing him to stagger a step and slump against the wall. I spun across to the other side of the alley, leaping over the big guy, and reached the other guy in time to connect with the back of his head; he face-planted and didn't move. I gave him another two hits for good measure, one to his side and the other to the back of his head. I walked back over to Asshole and gave him another few for good measure
too, and then walked back over to the big guy and continued beating him, again, and again, and again.
“Here, let me help you out there.” Officer McCann said, and then reached around and held the forward button on the keyboard. The footage sped up, giving the scene a morbidly comical look as I continued to beat the big guy. Officer McCann finally lifted his finger. “Okay, that should just about do it.”
He was wrong. I continued beating the big guy for well over another minute as I glanced up at the clock on the wall every few seconds. Chocolate, who looked like she had huddled on the ground beside the wall crying the entire time, finally got her wits about her and ran. She only managed a few steps before I chased her down with another blur of speed, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her back to where the big guy laid, undoubtedly dead at this time. When I saw myself throw her face down on top of his body, my stomach lurched, and I had to look away from the screen.
Officer McCann paused the video. “Oh no, you sick fuck. I don’t give a shit how long we sit here. You’re going to watch what you did to her—every fucking second.”
I wiped my brow with a trembling hand and turned back to the screen. Not because the officer told me to, but because I needed to see. I had looked back on that night with pride, surprised with myself at how I had faced down what at best was a sure ass-kicking, with a level of steel I didn't know I had inside. I had thought it showed me something about who I was, deep down. But I had been only partially right; it showed me the monster I was at my core. So, yes, I watched, if only to understand just how bad the beast was.
I looked on as Chocolate scrambled across the big guy’s twitching body trying to get away, only for me to grab hold of her ankle and pull her back towards me, then turned her over. A knot grew in my chest as I straddled her, but felt an odd sense of relief as I brought my fist down to her face, thankful something far worse didn’t happen. She stopped resisting then, and I beat her again, and again, and again.
That was all I could handle. I barely turned my head clear of the table before I vomited up the stale pretzels they had given me back when they were still pretending to be nice. When I was finished—well, when I had emptied my belly until I was only dry heaving—I turned back around and saw myself on screen still bashing her with my fist.
Finally, I rolled away from her. The poor woman laid motionless for a long time, then tried to crawl away, no doubt assuming the worst of things had passed. But instead of letting her go, I waited until she got maybe a dozen or so feet from me and chased her down again, punching and kicking her as she continued to try and crawl away. It was then that I ripped her dress off and fell atop her, fumbling with the belt at my waist.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I found myself wishing—hoping—she would reach just inches away from her hands and grab one of the pole halves and beat me with it, jab an end into my throat, gouge out my eyes. But she didn’t, and instead laid still, bloody and trembling. Then someone rushed into the frame and tackled me off of her and to the ground. She sat up and turned around, looked at the tangle of bodies on the ground beside her, and crawled away.
I held my breath and watched her until she was off the frame, and sighed when she made it, but my heart sank again when I remembered officer McCann’s words, that she had ultimately turned up dead anyway.
Movement on the ground brought my attention back to myself on screen, and I almost jumped out of the chair when I saw it was the pale man that had intervened and was now stalking me back into the corner of the alley, with a long knife in each of his hands. He threw a knife with a quick flick of his wrist, triggering a flashback to my recent encounter with him back at Ms. Bezi's place, and I flinched as if to dodge the attack. Except, instead of being a hair too slow back at Bezi's, I watched myself move with uncanny speed, not only sidestepping the knife at almost point-blank range but also snatch it out of the air, all in one smooth motion.
That caught the pale man by surprise; he was already rushing in to follow up on his attack and pulled up short a little too late. I flipped the blade around in my hand and sliced him across the face. My mind flashed back to my encounter with the pale man the day I had seen him in traffic, the day after this attack, and I recalled the fresh scar across his face.
The pale man came at me again, this time with more caution. I watched myself slowly back deeper into the alley until I pressed my back to the wall. The pale man sprang forward in a full sprint, and I tensed in my chair as I watched him close, his arm poised to deliver a decisive swing of the knife.
But I surprised both myself as I watched on, and the pale man as he closed in, when I turned around, sprinted up the wall what had to have been twenty feet, and then kicked off, sending the pale man skidding into the wall and me arching high over his head, landing halfway down the length of the alley.
I watched the pause, where we both looked at each other on opposite ends of the screen, and then I turned and sprinted away. The pale man didn’t try to follow. Instead, he slipped the knife back into his coat, dropped to his knees, and threw his head high into the air, his arms outstretched.
The laptop spun around, and I blinked as I focused back inside of the room with officer McCann. He watched me intensely as I sat in stunned silence, eyes wide and jaw slack. There was no doubt in my mind that was me, but even after watching the horrific video, I had no recollection of any of it. My mind raced as I tried to reason a way to explain what I had just seen myself do(Linked Comment), but I couldn't. The images flashed in my mind, and my stomach roiled again, and somehow found more to puke up onto the table in front of me.
"That alone would have been enough to convince most any reasonable person to offer a guilty plea. But we held off on making a move. That was my call you know. I've seen rich fucks like you hire attorneys that would exploit any fucking detail they could. In this case, the clarity was too poor to make out who was really in that video. Or worse, given your demographic, you'd convince the jury we were just out to get you, that we picked up any random black that was remotely similar to the man in the footage—turn us into the bad guys and let you walk free.” He began typing on the computer as he continued, “But somehow, after requesting the footage from your apartment building of that night and being stonewalled for days, we were suddenly gifted access to the entire month’s worth of feeds and found these little gems.”
He hit a couple of keys and then turned the laptop back to me. It was the feed from inside of my building elevator, just a bit earlier that night. The footage was crisp 4k quality and showed me wearing clothes that any reasonable person would know was the same from the other video. The video was only thirty seconds long at most, but it was utterly damning.
Shit went from bad to worse when he reached around and hit the space key; the video changed to an empty elevator. A moment later I stepped inside with my clothes filthy and bloody. The timestamp from the elevator footage completed the narrative.
“There it is…” Officer McCann said as he closed the laptop, wagging his finger at me. “That’s the look I like seeing. This is checkmate, you know it and so do I. I’ll push for no bail and life in prison, I want you to understand that, Darien.”
He lifted the laptop and set it down again about a foot away, revealing a manila folder underneath. He opened it, revealing a document several pages long, then slid it over to me. He pulled a pen from his suit jacket pocket and rested it beside the folder. "But if you sign this and spare me from having to spend the next several months in court having to breathe the same air as you, and even more importantly, spare me from forever being linked to your name in any way at all, I will not recommend to the prosecutor that she should never consider the possibility of parole."
He sat back and crossed his arms. I wiped my forehead with my sleeve again, leaned forward, and began reading. I took my time and read through the full confession, all nineteen pages of it. When I finished, I picked up the pen and placed it back down on top of the document, then slid the folder back to him. "I want to speak t
o my lawyer."
Officer McCann looked at me for a long moment with a blank expression. I was fucked, there was no doubt about it. Part of me wanted nothing more than to sign the document and have done with it, but I was too much of a coward for that. Either that or my sense of self-preservation was more powerful than any shred of justice I had at my own expense.
"I was hoping I would be able to do this an easier way but fuck it. Part of me hoped you wouldn’t sign it.” He stood and swirled his index finger over his head.
I frowned, then the door opened, and two uniformed officers rushed in. Officer McCann turned to me as they approached, "You should know better than to try to assault a police officer, Darien.”
I realized what was happening when one of the officers turned to McCann and met his eye, then punched him in the face. Officer McCann recovered and left the room, holding his eye as the officers drew their nightsticks rushed me, beating me across my arms, back, legs, belly—pretty much anywhere below my head. I could do nothing but turtle up the best I could and endure the beating for however long it lasted, and when they finally relented, I was slumped beside the table with my left arm outstretched, still cuffed to a ring on top.
They removed the end of the cuff that was secured to the table and wrestled me down to the ground, then cuffed my hands behind my back. When they pulled me back to my feet, officer McCann was looking at me from just outside of the room. “We forgot to file your intake paperwork, by the way. Our mistake. So until we can print and process you again, because you’re such a danger, we’ll have no choice but to take you down to one of our isolated holding cells.”
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