My life is crumbling down around me, and I just don't care anymore. Apathy is the best medicine for a broken will. When you see your life turning to shit and you still give a damn you spend every second trying to clean up the shit, trying to put everything right. Panic sets in. Your mind is a confused mix of anger, depression, and revulsion. You feel like one big open wound and the world is the scouring pad rubbing against you. Eventually, you get tired of feeling. You have to become hard or just give in. Then, you just become apathetic, letting it all fall apart. It doesn't touch you. You can't feel it. You're just numb. I barely see it anymore.
I'm sitting in my parked car, in some dank alley, waiting for my partner to finish questioning a witness. I've been a detective now for twelve years, and I know I'm not getting promoted. I'm stuck here, and I don't care. We're supposed to be questioning possible witnesses about a series of rape murders that have occurred in this part of town. I know that nobody around here saw or heard anything. They never do. There's no reason to ask.
I can see Karl with the witness now. This witness is a thirty-something year old prostitute that I know didn't see anything. Karl knows it too. He doesn't care. He's not questioning her about the homicides. She's on her knees sucking his cock. His hands are gripping her hair, forcing her head back and forth as he rams it into her mouth. At one time I'd have been disgusted, but now it's just a part of the world that I've come to accept.
My eyes move from Karl bucking against the prostitute's face to the glow of the radio dial. I turn up the radio, listening to some new rock station with some band singing about how much the world sucks, playing loud and fast. They don't understand a goddamn thing. I sit back in my seat and listen to the radio and the scanner while I wait.
I think about my wife. She's probably spending the night at her sister's house again. At least that's the explanation she'll give me. I suspect she's cheating on me, but haven't taken the time to confirm it. Our marriage is so pitiful now it's not even a joke. I repel her so much that she can't even stand to be in the same room with me anymore. I've done nothing to her, but she hates me anyway. I'm just not the man she fell in love with. That man died with our only child. I rub my fingers into my eyes, feeling the beginning of a headache.
"Come on Karl," I mutter. "Just shoot your load and let's get the hell out of here." The prostitute is gripping his buttocks tightly while he shoves his cock down her throat. She's probably just fighting to breathe. He smashes her face against him hard and throws his head back. She moves her hands to the front of his legs, pushing against him, trying to separate herself from him. He holds her tight, his hips jerking uncontrollably into her face. His head drops down and he lets her go. She falls away from him onto the ground.
I can see him yelling something at her and pointing at his cock. Slowly, she sits back up on her knees and begins licking his dick clean. Once he's satisfied he pushes her away, tucks his dick away, and zips his pants back up. He points at her, says something, and then walks back to the car. He gets into the passenger seat and closes the door.
"Well, Joe, I pumped her for information, but she didn't know anything," he says and laughs at himself.
"Yeah, I saw that," I say and start up the car.
"You sure you don't want a piece of her. You look like you could use it. You just tell her to blow you or go to jail. They never pick going to jail."
"No. The smell of this alley is giving me a headache." I turn on the headlights, capturing the prostitute in the beams. She scurries against the wall of the alley into the dark. I drive past her, down the alley and back into the street.
"Well, let's stop somewhere and get a drink then," Karl says. "We could ask around a bit and then kick back with a pitcher. Take your mind off things." I have to admit that doesn't sound too bad. I look at the time. It's just past midnight. Time to call it quits anyway.
"Yeah, sure," I say.
"Good. Just pull in to the first place you see," Karl says.
I drive a block before I see the first bar. It's a small, seedy-looking bar, but then we're not in the nicest part of town. "How's that place look?" I ask and point to the bar ahead of us.
"Hey, as long as there ain't a rainbow in the window I'm fine with it," he says.
I turn into the alley beside the bar and pull into the parking lot behind it. There are only a few cars in the parking lot and I pull into a space directly behind the building. The only illumination back here comes from the few working lights out on the street. We both get out of the car and start walking to the front of the bar.
Karl stops and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Did you hear that?" he whispers. His hand moves into his jacket for his gun.
"Quit fucking around, Karl," I say and start walking again. He pulls me back towards him.
"Be quiet," he says, and turns around, slowly pulling the gun from the holster. I turn around with him, searching the dark parking lot. He starts walking slowly towards a large black van in the back of the parking lot. I slip my gun from the shoulder holster and follow him. He turns around to me and points to the van. I can hear some light scuffling noises and then a grunt. I hear a voice talking in a hushed tone. I nod to Karl to acknowledge that I heard the voice now. Karl nods back and continues walking towards the van.
As we approach the side of the van, I can see a red sedan parked on the other side of it. Karl leans against the side of the van, his gun held near his waist. I stand beside him with my back pressed to the van.
"Yeah, bitch," a low, male voice says from the other side of the van. Karl waves his hand and starts walking around behind the van. I move in the other direction around the front of the van, my gun pointed in front of me. The windows of the van are darkly tinted and I can't see through them. I duck to crawl below the side window. When I get to the front of the van I stand up to peer over the hood.
I can see the back of a man's head. He has short, dark red hair. He's mumbling words to himself, some I can understand and some I can't. I stand up taller trying to see what he's doing. I can see the side of his pale face. I move towards the front of the van as I stand, my gun pointed at the guy's back. His body is jerking back and forth. I straighten my legs and get a clear view of him.
He's standing beside the hood of the sedan with a woman lying on the hood. His pants are pushed down and his scrawny butt is flexing as he thrusts between her naked thighs. Her legs dangle down the side of the car, a pair of panties hanging from one bare foot, and a long skirt crumpled up to her waist. Her blouse is ripped open and his hand is pulling her bra down forcefully, exposing her breasts. Her head lulls to the side, her long blonde hair spread on the hood, her eyes closed. Her hands are bound together lying outstretched above her head. The guy is panting as his hips piston between her legs, his hips pressing against her thighs.
"What's going on pal?" I hear Karl say from the other side. The guy stops immediately, his pelvis mashed against her. I walk in front of the van and to the other side with my gun pointed at him. I see Karl approaching him from the other side.
"What do you want?" the guy stammers, looking at Karl.
"I just want to know what's going on here," Karl says.
