Free Deja Who by MaryJanice Davidson

political turmoil at the time, and both times she was buried alive, which was the traditional reprimand for treason (trumped up or otherwise).
    As a result, she was a claustrophobic sex addict.
    â€œOh, Marcia,” she sighed. “Again?”
    â€œSwear to God, Ms. Nazir, the cops just
wait
for me.”
    â€œThey really don’t.”
    â€œThey do!”
    â€œThis is Chicago. The police have better things to do than follow you around and wait for you to indulge in acts of public lewdness.”
    â€œNope! They’ve got nothing better to do than spy on me and wait for me to—to be attacked by my own disease and do stuff they know I can’t help. Buncha pervs. With all the porn out there for anyone on the Internet, they’ve gotta lie in wait for me?”
    â€œMarcia.”
    â€œ
I’m
the victim!”
    â€œMarcia.”
    â€œAnd the poor guy I was with. He’s probably a victim, too. Mark, I wanna say? He looked like a Mark, right?”
    â€œMarcia, Marcia, Marcia! You were busted having carnal relations in the dugout at Wrigley Field. The police take a dim view of such things. And also the public, presumably.”
    â€œIt’s not like it was the World Series or anything.” Her patient sulked. “Not even the playoffs.”
    â€œStill.” Leah forced herself to soften her tone, though the urge to hit Marcia with her tape dispenser was strong. This wasnot her first arrest for sex alfresco
.
“I understand you have a disease—multiple diseases—”
    â€œThat’s right!”
    â€œâ€”but it is not and should never be a free pass.”
    â€œOh, here we go. You’re one to talk, Ms. Nazir.”
    â€œBeg pardon?”
    â€œInsighters get away with everything.”
    â€œThat is not true,” she said sharply, though an internal wriggling pricked her conscience. She hadn’t had to talk to a cop, post-stabbing. There had been no police report, and likely would not have been even if Archer had been inclined to press charges. Which, for some reason, he had not. “And if you have a problem with what I do for a living—which is strange, since you’re here of your own free will—I encourage you to seek help elsewhere.”
    â€œNo you don’t! You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
    â€œYes, well.” Leah, who had been prowling back and forth, sat behind her desk. “Worth an attempt. I have to write you up for this, Marcia, and I have to decide what to recommend to the DA. My inclination is to lock you up somewhere—”
    â€œHey!”
    â€œâ€”you can get help, somewhere good like Chicago-Read—”
    â€œGood? Really?” Marcia, who had the hips and butt of an anorexic teenager and the breasts of an artificially augmented porn star, spun so fast her chest took an extra second to catch up. “You’re gonna lock me up to be starved to death?”
    â€œThat was in 1901.”
Do not roll your eyes. And definitely don’t hit her with the tape dispenser.
    â€œAre they even accredited anymore?”
    â€œYour HMO takes them . . .” Not what she would call aringing endorsement. “Very well, I’ll send you somewhere else. The point is, you’ve proven you won’t take steps to manage your illness. You’re like a cancer patient who refuses treatment and then is astonished when the cancer progresses.”
    â€œOh, fuck me.”
    â€œYes, well. Part of the problem. Don’t you want to get better?” A rookie question, but she couldn’t help it. She honestly couldn’t tell. “Don’t you want to control your urges instead of the other way around?”
    â€œWhy? So I can be a better person in my next life?”
    â€œWell, yes, that
is
the general—”
    â€œI got screwed—hilarious, kind of, since I
didn’t
get screwed but was found guilty of treason and executed