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Authors: T. S. Worthington
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hallway behind her but she was already unlocking the front door and making a bolt for it. The second she was outside she began to scream at the top of her lungs for help, running from apartment to apartment banging on the doors hoping that someone would hear her. Someone would have to be awake.
Finally after the fifth house she pounded on Mrs. Mccorkle, the crazy old lady in the neighborhood answered the door to see a somewhat bloody and fully naked Darla screaming for her life. As soon as she opened the door and saw that Darla needed some drastic help she let her inside and locked the door behind her.
Darla called the cops and told them everything. When they finally arrived thirty minutes later there was no sign of the man who had attacked her or any of his tools or accessories that he had brought with him.
And the strangest thing—there was no blood anywhere. Not a damn drop.
Chapter 7: Truth and Consequences
“So, you can’t remember anything else about him?” Brian asked for what must have been the twentieth time. He knew that Darla was getting annoyed with him for asking her to repeat herself, but that was an old interrogation trick. People could always remember just a little bit more if they were forced to recall and recall and it was also to keep things straight and to rule out any inconsistencies. Darla had been brutally attacked tonight and now after two hours of going over the same story repeatedly she was really starting to break. Brian figured that he could push her just a little bit more before she clammed up and refused to talk. Brian often wondered if these techniques did more harm than good. They seemed to be designed to make people not want to come forward and make reports. If they were going to have to repeat themselves a million times in a row then it was often better just to stay a victim. Brian knew that while it did help the victims remember what they saw; it also did wonders to break any chance of a bond between them and the victims. So it was anybody’s guess which method was more valid and which one was more harmful. Brian would have loved to conduct a sociological experiment on this sort of thing one day. Maybe he would do that if he ever wanted to retire to the world of academics. That was all a possibility.
“I’ve told you for the twentieth fucking time that there is nothing else to say about it. The guy was covered head to toe in some sort of lab quality radiation suit or some damn thing. I don’t know what you call it. I guess you will have to look it up. It was black and it was thick, heavy rubber. He also had this duct tape and ball gag wrapped around my face that tasted worse than the worse night of vomiting I can ever remember with the worst hangover I have ever had.”
Darla drank her third cup of coffee since they had offered it to her. The caffeine had also been shown to have a strong effect on memory and it really seemed to help people recall better the more they drank of the stuff. It was pretty much the opposite effect of alcohol that way. The caffeine also had the nice side effect of calming people down despite being a strong stimulant.
“Ok, Darla. We really appreciate this. I’ll just read it back to you so that you can verify that I got everything down correctly, ok? The man was about six feet to maybe six feet two, with a slender build, but still athletic and strong. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Darla replied.
“Now he had a set of knives with him that you said looked like some really expensive set of hunting knives. They were polished and carefully sharpened and he spent several minutes inspecting them to make sure that they were going to be good enough. Is that right?”
“You got it, detective.”
Brian loved it when people called him detective. He was not sure why it made him feel proud and embarrassed all at the same damn time. He was going to miss that when he started up his own security business. But there were sacrifices to be made no
Finally after the fifth house she pounded on Mrs. Mccorkle, the crazy old lady in the neighborhood answered the door to see a somewhat bloody and fully naked Darla screaming for her life. As soon as she opened the door and saw that Darla needed some drastic help she let her inside and locked the door behind her.
Darla called the cops and told them everything. When they finally arrived thirty minutes later there was no sign of the man who had attacked her or any of his tools or accessories that he had brought with him.
And the strangest thing—there was no blood anywhere. Not a damn drop.
Chapter 7: Truth and Consequences
“So, you can’t remember anything else about him?” Brian asked for what must have been the twentieth time. He knew that Darla was getting annoyed with him for asking her to repeat herself, but that was an old interrogation trick. People could always remember just a little bit more if they were forced to recall and recall and it was also to keep things straight and to rule out any inconsistencies. Darla had been brutally attacked tonight and now after two hours of going over the same story repeatedly she was really starting to break. Brian figured that he could push her just a little bit more before she clammed up and refused to talk. Brian often wondered if these techniques did more harm than good. They seemed to be designed to make people not want to come forward and make reports. If they were going to have to repeat themselves a million times in a row then it was often better just to stay a victim. Brian knew that while it did help the victims remember what they saw; it also did wonders to break any chance of a bond between them and the victims. So it was anybody’s guess which method was more valid and which one was more harmful. Brian would have loved to conduct a sociological experiment on this sort of thing one day. Maybe he would do that if he ever wanted to retire to the world of academics. That was all a possibility.
“I’ve told you for the twentieth fucking time that there is nothing else to say about it. The guy was covered head to toe in some sort of lab quality radiation suit or some damn thing. I don’t know what you call it. I guess you will have to look it up. It was black and it was thick, heavy rubber. He also had this duct tape and ball gag wrapped around my face that tasted worse than the worse night of vomiting I can ever remember with the worst hangover I have ever had.”
Darla drank her third cup of coffee since they had offered it to her. The caffeine had also been shown to have a strong effect on memory and it really seemed to help people recall better the more they drank of the stuff. It was pretty much the opposite effect of alcohol that way. The caffeine also had the nice side effect of calming people down despite being a strong stimulant.
“Ok, Darla. We really appreciate this. I’ll just read it back to you so that you can verify that I got everything down correctly, ok? The man was about six feet to maybe six feet two, with a slender build, but still athletic and strong. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Darla replied.
“Now he had a set of knives with him that you said looked like some really expensive set of hunting knives. They were polished and carefully sharpened and he spent several minutes inspecting them to make sure that they were going to be good enough. Is that right?”
“You got it, detective.”
Brian loved it when people called him detective. He was not sure why it made him feel proud and embarrassed all at the same damn time. He was going to miss that when he started up his own security business. But there were sacrifices to be made no
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