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I had a job to do, even now: take down Senator Mitch Morris. Fight evil with evil. My plan was to get him indicted on some other charge, even if it was phony. If I couldn’t prove he was an evil, raping bastard, I was going to get him into jail somehow.
To start, I needed access to his computer and a few aids’ computers. It was going to be a long process. I’d need access to his home, his office, and maybe even a few others’ computers. It would be worth it, though, if it got rid of Morris—at least, that’s what I was telling the gnawing in my gut. That’s what I was telling the icky sliding feeling that made me feel like I was losing myself completely.
I was dressed in all black, wearing a black shirt, black leggings, and gloves. Maybe it was cliche, but I hadn’t exactly had cat burglar training. I had taken Anthropology instead of Intro to Framing in college. I was going off whatever I had seen on TV and read in books. They taught me: wear all black and bring a knife.
I left my gun in the car. Only bring what you can comfortably run with. I didn’t know where to stash my gun since I was wearing all tight clothing. Also, I was trying to be inconspicuous. I figured dressed in black with a noticeable gun bulge sort of screams “I’m up to no good.”
As I looked through files on the computer, I heard a sound. I ejected my USB and ducked down, out of sight, my breathing hitched. I hadn’t expected anyone to be at the office, and perhaps that assumption would be my undoing.
I waited for what felt like hours, but when I checked my phone it had only been minutes. I decided to wait for a few more before getting up. For all I knew the sound had been in my head. As I got ready to stand I heard the sound again, this time much clearer: “No, Senator Morris!”
My gut turned to ice. I knew that sound. I had made that sound. I ran to the location of the voice, no longer caring whether or not I drew attention.
I ran into the alley after hearing the sound of distress, but when I burst forth it was silent. The silence was a haunting yet brutally magnifying force. It magnified the crush of my shoes against the snow and made my breathing nearly deafening. Even though it was the dead of night, the white snow lit up the night. I could see everything.
There’s something inherently eerie about night. Call it biology or call it mumbo jumbo, but my senses are always on high alert when the moon comes out. Outside in the alley, a light breeze was blowing that gave me goose bumps. The breeze carried the smell of a nearby Chinese restaurant and the night air became an amalgam of fried egg rolls and that dark earthy smell that seems to only come on Halloween night. Lucky me, it was the middle of December and it smelled like creepy ass Halloween.
I trailed my hands against the cool brick exterior, feeling the grooves and loose grains against my gloved finger. The breeze was chilly and smooth on my arm, like an unwanted lover. Even though everything appeared fine, something stuck in my gut like a twisted knife. Something still wasn’t right.
Still trailing my hands on the brick, I turned the alley corner so that I was no longer on the side of the building but at its back. I peered up at the moon. It was copper colored, like blood, supposedly a rare occurrence. People called it beautiful, but I knew better. Nothing that beautiful could come without strings.
The alley was illuminated only by the moon, but the bright white snow meant I could see everything clearly. Too clearly. I saw him. Senator Mitch Morris had a girl pinned against the wall, his hand down her skirt. Her face was frozen in terror and his hand was over her mouth.
No. No. No. No.
The memories threatened to crash back like a tsunami destroying an island. I fell against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I could have turned back and never seen it. I could have continued with my plan and never been in the situation. I still could…
The girl let out another pleading cry and Morris shoved his hand harder against her mouth. Her eyes watered in pain.
Dammit. I had to do something.
I shoved my own memories back until I was completely, utterly numb. If you had pierced me with a needle I would have felt nothing. Walking slowly up to Morris, I prepared to make my move. I sidled up behind him until I was so close I could smell the sickeningly sweet aroma of his aftershave—an expensive cologne, probably. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, and a raping monster with any other scent is still as evil.
Morris didn’t notice me. He was too busy being a lecher. The girl he was assaulting, however, did. Her eyes widened, threatening to pop out. I wished I could have given her some hint that I was her friend, but in order to do what I was about to do, I had to go completely numb. I couldn’t feel anything. Compassion was gone.
The only weapon on my body was the knife and my knife training consisted of cutting up tomatoes. Somehow, I thought Morris would be a little more difficult than the occasional slippery tomato. I was only about a foot away from him. My gut clenched.
I could leave. I could turn around and run away and he would never know. I could still get out.
But I didn’t.
Because that girl was me once, and everyone had turned and run away from me.
I swallowed and turned off my brain. Thoughts would only hurt. Getting ready to use my knife, I elbowed Morris in the neck. He coughed and sputtered, taken off guard. Using that to my advantage, I pressed him against the wall, knife to neck.
Morris wasn’t a big man. He was maybe only an inch or two taller than my 5’7” self, but his presence was imposing. As I shoved him against the brick wall, I had to keep reminding myself that I was the one with the knife.
Finally I had evidence. Finally a witness to take down Morris. I wouldn’t need to frame him. It was one thing if one intern called him a rapist. You could call one intern a liar and a whore, but when two interns come out of the woodwork…and what if—now I was just dreaming here—but what if when me and the new girl came out, more of his victims surfaced?
I was starting to get giddy. I finally fucking had the guy. I turned my head to tell the girl to call the police, my mouth already forming the words, but she was gone. I saw her bare feet disappear around the ally. My heart sank. I knew she was terrified. I’d been there before. Still, when I’d signed up for saving her, I hadn’t known I was signing up for being alone with Morris. For it all over again.
Maybe she saw me as a vigilante. Vigilantes didn’t need help, after all. I mean, when was the last time a citizen stuck around to help a superhero? Check: never. I wasn’t a vigilante though. I was terrified. Literally quaking in my boots. I had a knife up to my demon, the thing that had haunted me for months.
Now what?
“My name is Nami DeGrace. I was your intern.” I gripped the knife’s handle, trying to be tough. If any crack in my foundation was exposed, Morris would use that to gut me open.
Instinctively I shoved the knife harder against his throat. A small slice of satisfaction hit me when a tiny bit of red blood popped out, like sprigs of Christmas holly decorating his neck. His eyes widened, but to his credit he still acted calm. I wasn’t sure if that was bravery or idiocy.
