Therapy

She drops on the couch like a dead weight, and sinks into the beige polyester fabric between two cushions. Therapy. It’s her first session, and Officer Julia Mendez does not want to be here. She has just finished a morning shift, and although off-duty, remains in her Uniform, utility belt and all.

“Long day?” asks a man in a finely kept suit, sitting to his chair across from her.

“About to be even longer” she says smugly.

“I am Doctor Lester Garlin, Head Counselor and Therapist for the 3-1 District. As I understand it, your Chief of precinct gave you a choice to come to these sessions”

“Yeah, either come here or to go look for another job. What kind of choice is that?”

“Not a very good one I suppose. Still, you made a choice. You chose the ladder”

“You wanna tell me why I’m really here?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me. Why do you think you are here, today?”

“Because I’m curt, opinionated” she answers again with attitude.

Doctor Garlin turns a page in his folder.

“It says here, you are prone to a quick temper and have displayed several counts of verbal abuse to your colleagues”

“Like I said, curt and opinionated”

“Do you care to elaborate?”

“No I do not care to elaborate… I do not care to be in this fucking room!"

“The first step through the process of healing is not to backpedal Officer Mendez. The first step is acceptance. You see that ledger behind you?” Mendez looks over her shoulder to a large old and worn book with a brown leather jacket. It rested on a mantle beside a golden montblanc pen that seemed to glisten from its hold. The display was presented like a chalice.

“That ledger holds the names of every single one of my patients that have entered and left my practice without ever having to return. I’ve collected a lot of names on that ledger, but in the end none of them left their mark on those pages because I healed them. Their names are in that ledger because they healed themselves. The same goes for you. If you wish to see an end to these sessions, you will have to get your name on that ledger. The only way to do that, is get by me”

Mendez thinks hard on Garlin's words before giving out a deep sigh.

“My partner and I were responding to a 1-2-8, that’s a call for silent backup; no sirens and no lights. I recognized the Officers voice, Madilyn or ‘Maddie’ Fitzgerald.It was pissing down rain so bad, we only noticed the front door already opened as we got to it.. and Maddie’s partner lying along the floor of the entryway, with blunt-force impact to the back of his head. He was immediately declared dead. We pursued inside the house in search for Maddie.. It was like following a trail of breadcrumbs. Her radio was on the ground, then her taser a few steps more.. Inside the living room, her handcuffs, her pepper spray, and her baton were discarded. That lead us into the kitchen where.. Maddie was on the ground, her pants around her ankles, her shirt torn open, and her gun resting barely inches away from her, and most significant, one of her shoes missing… Suspect is yet to be found.”

Doctor Garlin writes on a pad.

“A Detective in charge of the case at the time, uh.. Abigail Barnes. She told me that it was the work of some serial rapist they have been chasing for a while. Some sick fuck who was now targeting women in uniform. A Uniform Killer”

“.. And.. these events were what had you interject your anger on you colleagues?”

“Yes.. and no.. my application was declined the same day.”

“Application?”

“To make Detective. The Chief said I needed to be more a team player” Mendez gestured quotations marks on the term team player.

“What do you think he meant by that?”

Mendez scoffs.

“Well, I ain’t exactly no Abigail Barnes, that’s for sure”

”Okay, what do you mean by that?”

“I was there the day she made Detective. I saw the look in her eyes when she left his office.. and I saw what she was wearing”

“What she was wearing?”

“A tight little number disguised as a smart suit. High heels that had no practicality. Her skirt was so tight on her she could only straighten it when whilst waiting for the elevator. Yeah, she really deserved her promotion that day”

“Sounds speculative”

“.. Did you hear any of what I just said?”

“What proof do you have of your suspicion?”

“What proof is needed? It was pretty damn obvious what she did in there. What, you think Abigail wore that outfit because it made her feel good?”

“I think Abigail wore that outfit because she understood the benefit of what her own femininity could bring to the job”

“Get real. The only benefit is how it pleases everyone else in the room”

“And what’s wrong with that? The job is not an 80’s shoot’em up Cops and Robbers tv show. Being brash and outspoken and crude may obtain some level of result. But at the same time, a softer approach to the job can require the same or in Abigail Barnes case, better results”

“Yeah, really great results. It worked out well for her in the end, didn’t it”

“Why do you say that?”

“.. Because Barnes became the Uniform Killers next victim, just a few days ago”

“That information has not been brought to the public yet! How do you know about that?!” Garlin asks with a raised voice. It's the first time in the session that he ever showed any emotion.

“.. How do you know about that?” Mendez rebuts with a frown.

Garlin winds it back, resting into his chair.

“I wish I didn’t. But, it’s rather difficult to avoid when you are the head therapist for every major crimes unit in the city.”

"She has the same memo as Maddie; her gun close to her person, with one of her shoes missing. It's the same fucking guy, I know it”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea how close your were to this case. But now it all makes sense. You have involved yourself, because deep down you feel you are responsible for Madylin Fitzgerald and Abigail Barnes”

Mendez does not respond, in some shape or form she agrees.

“And so now, you feel obliged to be the one who finds and apprehends this.. Uniform Killer”

“.. To kill him” she answers.

Garlin writes her statement in his pad.

“Well then, I guess it comes down to one question now, does it. What are you willing to do, in order to see that happen?”

Mendez thinks long and hard on the question, and the answer is so clearly obvious.

A few days later, once again Mendez finds herself sitting across from her Chief, once again who reads over her application and once again takes a long time to do so. The only thing different in the room is Mendez, who sports a light gray business suit, a white collared blouse that showed a minimal length of cleavage, a gray matching skirt, lightly tanned nylon stockings, and a pair of black ankle-strapped high heels. The Chief repeatedly looked over to Mendez between turning pages, thinking he was discrete.

“So, Officer Mendez. This is your third attempt at applying. And aside from seeing a few new.. additions to your folder, what makes you think my assessment of you has changed any bit?” he asks with nervous clearing of the throat.

“Well.. why don’t you start by telling me about these.. new additions” answers Mendez with a sultry voice and little smile to her glossed lips. She crosses her legs, deliberately done so to draw the Chiefs attention directly to them.

"I want to be a team player" she adds, reminding her Chief of their previous meeting. The Chief lingers, before a smile too grows on his face.

Back in therapy, Doctor Garlin no longer recognizes the woman that once entered his practice. Mendez no longer slumped on the couch, nor bared her worn and unwashed Uniform. Still in her purchased smart suit, she sat now like a lady, with her back straightened, her hands in her lap, and a leg crossed over the other, hiding any indecency her skirt may offer.

“.. I had another interview today”

“.. And?”

Unzipping her handbag that sat beside her, she rummages through it, shuffling the contents around before pulling out her Badge, with the title 'Detective' engraved into it.

“I got in!” she says with a smile breaking on her face, if not for a brief second.

“That’s wonderful. And I can see you’re all ready to go” he remarks gesturing to her holstered glock that had shuffled to the top of her bag.

“I start next week.. I’m being transferred to another division but.. I guess there is a case to be found anywhere you go”

“Now that you have got what you wanted.. do you feel you got what your deserved?”

Garlin asks leaning forward on his seat, elbows to knees and hands together. There is a moment of pause from Mendez as she is reminded of what was required of her in order to obtain the badge she held so firmly in her hand. She returns it to her bag before answering.

“.. Yes” she lies.

“Then I think we’re done here” Garlin smiles.

Mendez smiles back before giving a look to the ledger over her shoulder before back to Garlin, whom approves her with one last nod.

“It’s time we both move on” he concludes as his graduation to her.

Mendez leaps to her feet, collects her bag and dashes for the ledger, her heels clanking along the fancy tiles proudly. She turns the pages to the last signature and adds hers to the ledger. One final swish, and her therapy was complete. Mendez sighs as though breathing in a new layer of air for the first time. She gives her mark one final look, and marvels over the many other patients that had come and gone before her, when her smile slowly recedes from her face, and is replaced with a dropped jaw hidden behind tightly closed lips. The names of previous patients, the two most previous in fact, were Madilyn Fitzgerald, and Abigail Barnes.

Mendez’s blood turns cold, and the room more silent than ever. She could hear her heartbeat in her mouth. Slowly, she returns the pen to its holder, and even slowly moves to her glock resting atop of her bag. She rests her palm on the handle and makes to unclip the holster when Doctor Garlin’s hand suddenly latches onto hers from behind, and his other wraps around her neck. With all her strength, Mendez attempts to free her firearm, but Garlin is strong, and simply forced Mendez’s bag from her shoulder, snapping the strap and sending the contents all over the tiled floor, including her glock. Now with both hands he places Mendez in a choke hold. In the most disadvantaged position to fight him off, but Mendez thrashes and flails her body in every way she can to try and shake him loose. Her high heels do little to help her in her struggle, slipping along the slick tiles, clacking as they do, losing her balance at every turn, the ankle straps making it impossible to kick them off. Instead, she kicks the surroundings, first the ledger, then the table it rested on before finding the back of the couch. With both legs she shoves off it, launching herself and Garlin hard along the tiled ground, stunning him enough for Mendez to break from his hold.

She swiftly immobilizes Garlin, securing his arms tightly behind his back with textbook precision before forcing him down over the back of the couch. Garlin grunts and cries out in pain, but Mendez shows no mercy, keeping his arms twisted and locked by his thumbs.

"You're under arrest for several counts of rape and murder, as well as the attempted assault on..." Mendez pauses mid-sentence, realizing that she does not have her utility belt on her. She finds her belongings on the floor, too far away to retrieve without releasing the Killer. She couldn't take that risk. Her cellphone was closest, resting on the cushion where she had sat seconds earlier. A single call to local authorities or her precinct would save her. Whether to her partner she once scorned, or even her despised Chief, any of them would be a lifeline.

Sacrificing a hand, Mendez reaches for her cellphone, having to lean over Garlin's body to do so. Garlin ceases the opportunity to resist and begins flailing his body.

"Hold still!" she commands, but Garlin disobeys, causing Mendez to lose even more balance.

"HOLD STILL!" she shouts. Her phone just inches away, Garlin manages to free a hand and reaches behind, grabbing a handful of Mendez's hair and yanks her forward. Mendez yelps in pain and loses her hold on Garlin. The two grapple at each other, trying to gain the upper hand over the other. But toe-to-toe, Mendez finds herself at the disadvantage as her high heels offer no support, constantly slipping along the slick tiled flooring, throwing her off balance, while the Killer's sheer strength overwhelms her. He takes charge, thrashing and pulling Mendez exactly where he wants her before delivering a powerful right hook to her jaw. Her legs give way like a deadweight, and her impacts the ground hard, rendering her unconscious.

When Mendez comes to, her vision remains blurred with dark and light patches. She can only rely on what she feels to make sense of her current state, but what she feels is horrible. She feels her blazer unbuttoned, and her blouse torn open. Her skirt is hiked up, and her inner thighs are bruised. Her underwear is removed, but the most horrifying feeling is knowing that he was inside her. The urge to break down and cry overwhelms her, but her circumstances did not allow for it. Gradually, her vision starts to clear, and she focuses on the ceiling above. Everything appears upside down, yet her belongings still lie scattered on the floor, including her glock. Bringing her gaze downward, she catches the movement of the only other presence in the room: him. He stands up from his knees, fastening his slacks and buckling his belt. With a gasp, she watches as he lifts her ankle to his thigh and slowly loosens the strap to her high heel, and even more slowly removes her shoe, collecting it as his trophy.

With a sudden surge, Mendez sends her remaining heel right into Garlin's torso, sending him doubling over onto the ground.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Mendez screams, tears streaming down her face, smudging her mascara.

Concussed and weak, she rolls onto her front and crawls for her service weapon that was needed now more than ever. She could feel him behind her, grappling at her ankles. But before he could pull her back, Mendez dives to her glock. She fumbles at the holster, rolls onto her aching back, and aims her weapon just as Garlin drops atop of her, clapping his hands one hers. Mendez gasps as they struggle for control of the gun, their arms swaying back and forth between each other. Mendez fights with everything left in the tank, but she is losing. This horrifying reality comes no more clearer than when Garlin's hand begins to slips underneath Mendez's own to her gun, his fingers slowly replacing hers on the handle.

It was inevitable now. Mendez knew it was only a matter of seconds before Garlin would claim her gun, an act that felt like a betrayal of everything she stood for. Desperate, she scanned her surroundings, searching for anything that she could use in her desperate fight, but there was nothing within her reach. Her eyes lingered on her badge, as its glimmer seemed to mock her, a constant reminder of the path and the choices she made that led her to this very moment.

She gasps in horror as Garlin wins the gun from Mendez, rendering her now the one resisting, and like the hands on a clock ticking down to 6, Garlin began turning the gun back down on her. Passing 2 to 3.

“Please let me go! Please let me go! I’ll just walk away. You’ll never see me again. I won’t tell anyone about you, I swear! Please!” the desperation sets in, and it is all Mendez can do. She had nothing left.

“Hold still” he whispers as his answers, as the gun turns from 3 to 4.

“Please don’t do this! Please don’t this! Stop! Stop!!”

4 to 5.

“Please! Please!! PLEASE!!!”

The clock strikes 6. BANG!

The gunshot does not echo, and instead silences the room. Moments later, Doctor Garlin exits his office. He is as he said to Mendez, moving on. With his ledger held firmly in one hand, his overcoat wrapped around his forearm, and his latest trophy, a single ankle-strap high heel dangling from two fingers, he closes the door behind him and without looking back leaves with not a single shred of nerve or phase on his expression, leaving behind him the Uniforms Killers latest victim.