I was watching the ball game when the phone rang.
"Hello," I mumbled, half annoyed at the interruption.
"Daddy please come and get me," my daughter sobbed into the phone.
"Where are you baby and where's your date?"
"I'm at the hospital daddy. I've been raped!"
"I'll be right there!" I shouted into the phone.
I shot out the door like a rocket and headed for the hospital driving way too fast. I jumped out of the car and careened through the emergency room doors.
"I'm Bill Taylor," I grumbled to the reception nurse. "Where's my daughter?"
"Sir, if you'll just fill out these forms, you can go see her."
"Stick those forms up your ass! I want to see my daughter right now! That bureaucratic bullshit can wait!" I yelled at the nurse.
I guess she could see that I was in no mood for silly hospital games.
"Calm down and follow me," she said.
I followed her down the hall and into one of the reception rooms. My daughter, Marsha, was lying on a cot. Her clothes were off and she was sobbing to herself.
I sat beside her and held her hand.
"Oh daddy, thank God you're here. These people haven't been very nice to me. I've been raped and it hurts so bad. Look at it! It's still bleeding!"
A brief look at her poor, ravaged pussy revealed that she was, indeed, bleeding.
Another nurse had appeared in the room.
"Did you guys run the rape kit on her?"
"Yes sir, we did. She's been raped all right but the police don't believe that she identified the right person."
"Who did this honey?" I asked my hurt, broken daughter.
"It was my date, Everet Simpson. He raped me in the park and then lied to the police. They don't believe me daddy!"
"Where's the cop?" I asked the nurse.
"I'm right here Mr. Taylor. What do you want to know?"
"If she identified the culprit, why isn't he in jail?"
"He claims he was with his friends all evening and five of them swore to it. We had him downtown for about two hours but his dad's attorney showed up and we had to let him go."
"Surely you don't believe that little son of a bitch! Throw his ass back in the can. We'll press charges."
"I would if I could Mr. Taylor, but it is a lot more complicated than that. He has an air tight alibi so we can't hold him."
I was completely pissed off. My blood pressure was going up. My hands were shaking. A tear drizzled down my cheek. I swore under my breath.
"Give me that god damned paper work so I can get my daughter out of this rat trap!" I demanded.
A nurse showed up with a clipboard and I quickly filled out the papers. By the time I finished my daughter had stopped bleeding. The nurse gave her a kotex, she put on her clothes and I gathered her into my arms and carried her to the car. She cried all the way home. During the next six months we did everything we could think of to get Everet Simpson arrested, but his dad had lots of money and lots of lawyers. It slowly became apparent that the little bastard was going to get away with it.
"Marsh, it looks like we're never going to be able to get that asshole convicted," I told her.
"Make him pay, daddy. I want to watch him bleed and squirm. I want to hear him squeal and beg. I want to hear him scream like a girl!"
Now, I'm not superman but I was in the Army Special Forces for eight years. I still maintained contact with some of my old buddies. I got on the phone to Jake Earl and old war partner of mine who was living in Chile.
"Hey, Jake, how're they hangin'?" I greeted.
"Is this Bill Taylor?"
"Right the first time, amigo. Listen, my daughter Emily and I are going on vacation and I was wondering if we could bunk in with you for a couple of weeks."
"Frank, you are fully aware that I would do anything for the man who saved my ass."
"Great! We'll be there next week! Thanks a lot Jake."
