Lust Demented

{XLIX}

DEAD AIR BELOW THE BYGONE bridge, I was street level staring at the tires of the parked cars. Missy and Chiara were nowhere to be found. The gouged tunnel exposed her blue steel underbelly filling with carnival echoes. Distorted voices multiplied. The decipherable few were all too familiar.

“It’s a hundred-degree day and you’re shivering.”

“Does that hole in your throat make you cold Farrow?”

“I got some gashes in the past, but that beauty is unreal.”

“It’s time to give her up Farrow.”

“Don’t nod. Don’t say a word.”

“We inked your statement already.” Sgt. Bethany Powers chewed on her words. She seemed to be missing a couple of teeth from the car accident.

“All you need to do is sign Farrow.” Detective Anderson had a bandage around his head like a bandana. He placed the pen in my hand. It rolled out of my grasp onto the sidewalk.

“Missy… Missy… are you there?” At first, I could only hear my own voice.

“…Aksa jo zwyiecslizon…” I couldn’t make out what she was saying through the static.

“Missy…” I squinted down at her photo on the lcd cellphone screen.

“…faskl asdfil diljasfzi…” She was so close to being there: But just wasn’t.

Sgt. Powers’ hands around my throat brought me out of the shock. My blood was all over her green leather gloves. Her fingers dug into the wound, pressing the loose flaps of skin together. “I can’t give you any more of my time. I got spacecases, nihilists, and the working man trying to do each other in so they can all wake up and shop another day away.” She was talking crazy. I grabbed at her neck forgetting my left hand was half missing after Detective Anderson blew a hole in it. Unleashing a cruel chop, the redhead smacked my stump away, quickly pinning it down with a black boot heel. Agony surged through me. I grabbed at Sgt. Powers with my right hand, but only got a pointy tit. I squeezed as you would squeeze one of those stress balls. I could feel her nipple harden below her blouse. It relaxed me until she jammed an open hand into my teeth. My head jerk backed. The wound on my neck spread.

Pop! Detective Anderson cracked Sgt. Powers in the back of the head with his nightstick. The blow was so hard her face went blank a few seconds. Detective Anderson seemed to be still deciding if he should hit her again as she came to. Dazed, Sgt. Powers tried to hand Detective Anderson the pen, but he wouldn’t take it. Instead he motioned for her to give it to me personally. She pressed the tip of the pen in the center of my right palm until I was able to handle it. Detective Anderson pulled the statement out of his pocket and held it steady for me. The world was fading in and out. Breaths were hard to come by. Wheezes came easy.

“Don’t nod. Don’t say a word. Write it Farrow. Write it.”