A Descent into Darkness

Perceptions and Consequences

The maid stands in the doorway, taking in the scene, a look of shock on her face, a load of fresh towels under her arm. I realize I need to take advantage of this moment of shock. The telephone's useless as a weapon now, and she could flee before I grab anything else, maybe if I lunge straight at her and get her in a chokehold I could-

"Are you okay?"

She looks at me, not with suspicion or fear, but with concern. I'm confused for a split second before realizing what's probably going through her mind.

She thinks he was raping me.

Probably aiding her assumption is the look of panic I had on my face when she came in. Oh, and the general assumption that men are always the violent ones. While statistically true I suppose, I do find it a little sexist.

"I...I... What did I do?" I stutter, trying to sound as in shock as possible. I look down at Mark. "He...he was getting rough. I tried telling him to stop but he... he..."

"It's okay," she replies, closing the door and coming over to me, careful not to step on the body. "Here, sit down." She guides me to the bed and lays me down gently. "Did he manage to hurt you?"

"A bit." I'm trying to figure out if I should kill her too. On the surface, the obvious answer is yes. She saw me standing over the body of a man I just killed. If I had my equipment, she'd be on the ground with a slashed throat. But, as I have none of that, I'm starting to wonder if there might be a way to use her to help get me out of this mess. Though I haven't quite figured out that scenario yet.

"Let me look. I used to be a nurse in the Philippines." She peers down toward my pussy.

An immigrant, though that was obvious from her accent. I wonder if anyone would notice if she went missing.

Even I'm not totally comfortable thinking like that. It feels so racist, probably because it is. But I need to examine all angles in deciding the best course of action here, including any bias investigating authorities may have.

"I'm going to call you an ambulance," she says.

"No!" I grab her by the arm, maybe a little too violently, as she looks mildly unsettled. "If...if they come, the cops will too!"

"You can just tell them it's self-defence."

"I can't. I'm a sex worker. If I was committing a crime, I can't claim self defense."

At this point, I'm really hoping that this maid does not have much knowledge with the Canadian Criminal Code, because that legal argument is bullshit.

Sex work in Canada has something of a catch 22 status under the law. It is illegal to buy sex, yes, but not illegal to sell it. Legal scholars have been at each other for years over how constitutional that law is, and even I think it's bullshit, but the government seems in no rush to take up the issue. The point is, if I were a sex worker, I'm far from the worst legal position I could be in. But I'm not a sex worker. And if they performed an honest to goodness rape kit, they would find no evidence of an attack.

"Okay, this is what we'll do," the maid says. "You, grab everything you brought with you, and run. I'll call the police after you leave, tell them I saw a man dragging a screaming woman into this room. When they show up, they'll find this, and assume it was self-defence. I doubt they'd waste many resources trying to find you."

Now I look at her, surprised. This seems to be coming naturally to her. It makes me wonder just what may have happened in her past. Also, I've decided not to kill her. It's bad enough that Jenny saw Mark and I leaving the bar together, but I might be able to sell the rape story to her, especially given how drunk Mark was. And then, I just might be able to convince her to not tell the cops anything. That gets a whole lot harder if the cops are also asking about the death of the innocent maid.