The night had gone uneventfully so far. A few of her regulars, a tourist looking for a quickie, and an older family-looking man she’d just finished with in his car. As Anastacia stepped back onto the dark street she felt an uncomfortable feeling she was being watched. “Forget it” she thought, “I’m heading back home for the night.” Plus she needed a fix anyway.
As she walked along, she could hear footsteps behind her. But each time she looked back, the street appeared empty. “You’re going crazy Annie. You’re getting paranoid.” Suddenly she felt a strong arm grab her tightly around the neck. “Hey honey, remember me?” the man whispered into her ear. Anastacia tried to scream but he tightened his grip so she could barely breath. When she desperately tried to pull out her knife he violently tore the purse off her shoulder and tossed it away. He dragged a struggling Anastacia into the filthy alley. “No one pulls a knife on me and lives to tell about it you bitch!” he said coldly. It was the man who’d tried to rip her off the other night.
He started punching Anastacia hard in the stomach until she doubled over, then in the head while she futilely tried to cover up. She fell to the ground and he started kicking and stomping on her. She felt the warm blood streaming down her face. Everything was going black. This is how it would end. A short sad, meaningless life, snuffed out before she ever had a chance to live.
All of a sudden, the Anastacia heard the short bark of cop car’s horn. Bwah bwah! It sounded like a chorus of angels. As she rolled over gingerly, feeling like every bone in her body was broken, she saw the car doors open. Through her blurry vision she could see the outline of two cops strutting slowly toward them.
“Hey, looks like a party. Did you forget to send us an invite?” She recognized his voice. Officer Slattery and his partner Officer Richards. Both corrupt, violent cops who were more likely to beat and rob a perp than take them in. Richards was creepy, he’d always looked at Anastacia in a funny way. Slattery would just tell her to “Fuck off, go work somewhere else right now.”
Slattery grabbed the man by his collar and lifted him almost off the ground with one arm. He was unnaturally strong, equal to his unnaturally violent temper. He pulled his service revolver and placed the muzzle at the man’s mouth, pressing so hard against his lips they started bleeding. The man was trembling, the fight gone out of him, knowing he’d just met a bigger bully.
“Hey Richards, take care of the girl. I’m gonna have some fun with this fucker.” Richards ran over to Anastacia and quickly realized she was in bad shape. He was about to radio dispatch when Slattery yelled out “Don’t call dispatch, we’ll drive her to the hospital in a minute.” He soon realized why.
The sound of the man squealing and whimpering resembled an animal more than a human being. Slattery loved using his fists to mangle people’s faces. Big, meaty and toughened from his time as a boxer, face bones had no chance. When he tired from beating the man’s face to a pulp, he unleashed his telescoping baton and started a new round of fury. He could feel his excitement rising as the man’s bones crunched under each blow. “You don’t fucking come in my beat and cause trouble you stupid fucker!” he said angrily. “I fucking cause the trouble around here.”
The man was barely breathing when Slattery started rifling through his pockets. Grabbing his bloodied wallet, Slattery looked at his ID and said “Charles Brinkman huh?” He scoffed “I’m changing your name to Charles Brokeman you dumb fuck,” laughing gruffly at his own joke as he took the money then tossed the wallet into a dumpster.
As Slattery pocketed the bills, he patted Charles on his mangled face and said sarcastically “There, there Charlie boy. Hang tight, I’ll be back for you later.”
Turning to Richards, “Let’s get this broad to emergency, she gonna live?” Richards shook his head, “I don’t think so Slat.”
“Okay, put her in the car, let’s dump her at Metro General. We found her on the sidewalk okay? We never saw anything happen.” Richards nodded dumbly.
Anastacia faded in and out of consciousness during the ride to the hospital. Slattery barked “What’s your name kid?”
She mumbled “Anastacia…”
“That’s a nice name kid. You got anyone we can contact?”
“My mom.” Memories of her childhood flashed through Anastacia’s mind — mom combing her hair in the mornings, dad surprising her at Christmas with a puppy, their trip to Disneyland. She’d had a great childhood until dad died. Everything went downhill after that.
“She always called me her little queen. Now I’m just a whore.”
“Hey kid, you’re a queen. Don’t ever forget okay? Queen Anastacia. You’re riding a chariot to your castle now.”
Slattery whispered to Richards “she ain’t gonna make it man.” He’d seen lots of bad injuries, many of them caused by him. He could tell when the life was going out of someone.
“Hey Queen Anastacia. We’re almost there sweetheart. You just relax, everything’s going to be okay.”
Anastacia gasped her last breath thirty seconds before they reached the emergency entrance. Slattery and Richards dropped her off, gave their report and a few hours later, left the hospital.
As they drove into the cold, dark night, Slattery reached over, slapped Richards’ shoulder and snickered “Hey buddy, cheer up. I think Charlie might still be alive. Let’s go have some fun.” Richards laughed wryly and suddenly felt better.
