She had moved into a smaller apartment since her career change. It wasn't the money; she was actually making more money teaching than she could have ever made as a cop. It was more of a punishment. As if she didn't deserve an apartment you could walk around in. She didn't deserve a lot of things after what she had done.
She always wondered if someone else had taken the case, a fresh pair of eyes, maybe they would have seen something she overlooked. But now she'll never know, evidence was compromised. She'll regret cutting through the seal until the day that she dies. Not just for herself but for Regina Bowen who would never find justice and for Lillian Stanwick for whom justice would come too late.
The latter hit especially hard, if she had been able to put Pratt away the first time, or hell, even the second time, Lillian would still be alive. Part of her wished Don had never told her about the girl Pratt had murdered, he thought he was doing her a favor by keeping her in the loop. But all it did was pile on more weight to her already breaking back.
So now she spent her evenings in the silence that was New York at night. She sat at a card table in front of an open window, no lights on in her apartment, just the glow of the skyscrapers. She had boxers folded down around her hips and a wife beater clinging to her breasts. She was content to sit with her feet up on the table, sipping from a bottle of beer as the cars passed beneath her. It was a time she could just sit and make piece with the city.
She thought about her team and how she had let them down. She thought about Regina and Lillian and any other women that had been Pratt's victims. This was a time for confession, when the city would hear her thoughts; she could unburden her soul to the pavement and the steel. But this was only confession; her absolution wouldn't come until later.
It was a twisted take on something once so Holy to her. She remembered wearing all white, her parents brimming with pride as she made her first confession. She closed the door to the confessional, cleared her throat and began, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned." She remembered her Sunday school classes, first you confess, and then you will receive your repentance, and with your repentance comes absolution. She had confessed her darkest sins but at eight years old they only earned her five 'Our Father's.
She knelt at the pew, her hands folded, her head bowed in prayer, her mouth moved silently as she began to repent, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..." She often wondered how many Our Father's it would take her to earn God's forgiveness, or even her own.
It was usually late at night when he knocked on her door though she was never asleep, almost as if they'd been waiting for each other. At first they tried to make small talk, pretend he was just there for something far more pure. But that became tedious and after a few weeks it wasn't fooling anyone. She doubted it ever had.
Now he'd just come in silently, hang his long coat on the rack and wrap his arms around her waist. She made the same movements each time, running her arms up his until they brushed over his shoulders and around his neck. Her nails ran against the nape of his neck as he kissed her deeply. She could always tell how bad his day was by how violently he kissed her. Once his kiss had drawn blood, he explained to her later he had found the body of a small child, in several different pieces; he had arrested her mother only hours earlier.
Aiden thought they could have had something once upon a time. But now she had been reduced to little more than a trick. She supposed he would have taken her home with him had she allowed it. She couldn't imagine his father looking at her with accusing eyes; Don Flack Sr was somewhat famous around the precinct. As Don Jr later told her, she had become quite infamous. Despite the small alphabetical different she knew these words were nothing alike. She'd hate the thought of ruining that reputation that he had worked so hard for. Besides, she reminded herself, this was not about love, or even attraction, it was something far more instinctual.
His hand ran down her back and cupped her ass over the thin fabric of the boxers; he held her close as if he owned her. And in a way she supposed he did. Her hands slid from his neck down his chest and started to unbutton his shirt and she tugged it free from his slacks. When it fell away from his body she was careful to lay it over the back of her arm chair, Don liked everything neat.
His hips guided her backwards into the abyss of her bedroom consisting of little more than a mattress on the floor. Don had been stunned at first, to see how Aiden lived. But he had come to accept it, a self enforced vow of poverty. He tugged her wife beater over her head and her hair fell like wildfire down her bare back. Immediately her hands were on his belt, tugging the buckle open before pushing his pants to the floor. His fists would curl into her hair and he'd tug to angle her mouth up, closing his on top of it. When he had successfully stolen her breath his hands fell back down to her ass, this time sliding under the fabric and knocking it to the ground.
After she had been stripped of her minimal amount of clothing she knew what he wanted. She lay down against the sheets; her heels already planted into the mattress for the event she knew would be unfolding.
He'd pull a condom from his wallet and roll it on slowly; she was always amazed at his ability to be ready for action so quickly. If should could have breathed she may have laughed.
As soon as the thought left her head he was on top of her. He'd push inside of her sharply, caused her to hiss every damn time. She told herself this wasn't about her. Every time she found herself in the same situation. Her hands over her head, being pressed into the mattress. Her pussy aching from the assault, she was never ready, never felt prepared for his entrance.
When he would first start to move inside her she would shrink away, using her feet as leverage to push away from his body. But slowly she became accustomed to the movement and she began to relax underneath him. That's when he would stare down into her eyes, blue eyes burning something fierce. "Say it." he'd whisper.
She would swallow thickly and nod, her voice shaky due to the weight on her body and his cock thrusting inside of her, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..."
Her repentance, his salvation; this was her avenue to absolution.