Dirty Mouth's Evil Mind

I stand silently, watching the young girl sitting motionless on her bed, her vacant eyes fixed on the wall.

Princess.

The girl who once taught me how to read.

I remember her as the smartest kid in the neighborhood—quick-witted, ambitious, full of dreams. She was still that girl, until six months ago.

Then everything changed.

She never went back to school. She couldn't.

Sexual violence isn't rare in this district. It happens too often, too easily. Princess isn't the only victim—not in her school, not even in her own class.

But two things set her apart.

Other girls suffer in silence, forcing themselves to act as if nothing ever happened. Princess, however, fought back.

And unlike the others—her attacker wasn't just some faceless predator.

Princess was assaulted by a celebrity.

The media storm that followed made things worse. Every detail of her life was picked apart. But she didn't break. She stood in court, testified against her attacker, and faced him head-on.

She was prepared for that battle.

What she wasn't prepared for… was what came next.

Slim Joe's lawyers didn't just defend him. They destroyed her.

According to Mrs. Johnson, the defense presented a video.

It lasted for hours, but the courtroom only needed five minutes to make their decision.

A decision that shattered Princess's life.

Mrs. Johnson described it in painful detail.

The video showed Princess lying on a bed, disoriented, her movements unnatural. Then Slim Joe appeared—alongside one of his friends. In the footage, Princess seemed to be participating willingly, even responding to them.

To an outsider, the girl in the video didn't seem like a victim.

The jury didn't see a young girl who had been manipulated.

They saw consent.

And with that, her story fell apart.

As if that weren't enough, clips of the video were leaked online.

Within days, Slim Joe's case became a trending topic.

Some questioned how a teenager could force herself onto a powerful celebrity.

But even more people believed what they saw.

They called Princess a liar, an attention-seeker, a disgrace.

By the time the verdict was delivered, the world had already made its decision.

Slim Joe walked free.

And Princess?

She became the villain of the story.

That final betrayal shattered whatever was left of her.

Now, she sits in silence.

She doesn't speak.

She doesn't react.

She doesn't acknowledge anyone—except for Mrs. Johnson.

Princess would rage uncontrollably whenever a man came near her—even her own father.

Her trauma ran so deep that even the presence of someone she once trusted sent her into a blind panic.

Her family had no more money for therapy.

Her father, drowning in helplessness and fury, decided to take justice into his own hands.

He went to find Slim Joe—with one thing on his mind.

To kill him.

Mrs. Johnson, realizing what he was about to do, tried to stop him.

And that's how they ended up here.

I step away from Princess's door, facing them.

"Let me help," I say.

Jerome lets out a sharp scoff. "You mean you'll kill him for us?"

His words are mocking, but his eyes tell a different story.

I sigh. "I could. But I won't."

Mrs. Johnson exhales deeply, as if forcing herself to accept the answer.

She knows what I'm capable of.

She never asked me directly, but she figured it out.

The day she accidentally knocked over my guitar case while cleaning my room, she saw what was inside—a long-range sniper rifle.

She never said a word about it.

Neither did I.

A week later, I disappeared from her life.

"I don't do that anymore," I tell her now.

She looks at me for a long moment before forcing a small smile and nodding.

"Good for you," she murmurs.

"But I will make him pay for what he did," I continue.

Mrs. Johnson's smile fades.

"How?" Her voice is laced with bitterness. "He's too powerful… and we have nothing left."

I meet her gaze, my voice steady.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

I pause, making sure she believes me before I say the one thing that matters.

"I promise."

-

As I step into the hotel lobby, a voice calls out.

"Where the hell have you been? Slim Joe's been looking for you."

One of his bodyguards stands near the entrance, watching me closely.

"Is he in?" I ask instead, ignoring his question.

"Yeah, he's in his room."

I give him a nod before heading upstairs.

At Slim Joe's door, I press the bell for the third time before the door finally swings open.

O'Brien, his personal assistant, eyes me suspiciously.

"It's him," he calls over his shoulder.

"Let him in," Slim Joe's voice drifts from inside.

As I step in, I find him sprawled sideways on the couch, a silk bathrobe draped loosely over his body. He barely glances at me as he shifts into a sitting position.

"Did you get rid of them?" he asks, rubbing his face as if bored.

"As ordered," I reply smoothly.

His gaze sharpens. "You look too calm."

I shrug. "It's not my first time."

Deliberately, I let my cold, detached demeanor settle over me—just enough to convince him.

"You made sure there were no loose ends?" he presses.

I exhale, acting slightly annoyed. "Why do you think I took this long? I had people clean up the mess. I'll send the bill your way."

He barely reacts, uninterested in whatever extra cost I decide to charge him.

Instead, he studies me with a calculating look.

"Why'd you do it?"

I frown slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You volunteered," he says, voice tinged with suspicion. "I didn't ask you to handle it. You stepped in on your own."

Before I can respond, O'Brien moves.

His hand grabs my jacket collar and shoves me back.

I let him.

My hip slams against a cupboard before my back crashes into the wall.

"You're just a damn dog handler," he hisses. "What the hell made you think you should get involved?"

I widen my eyes, playing the part. "I—I'm sorry, sir… I usually guard people, not dogs. It was just… instinct. I saw them threatening my employer, and I acted."

My voice trembles slightly as I slip a hand into my pocket.

O'Brien glares at me for another second before tightening his grip.

But then—

"Leave him, Tony," Slim Joe interrupts lazily.

O'Brien turns, looking ready to argue. "But, Joe—"

A dismissive wave from the rapper shuts him up.

As O'Brien releases me, I cough lightly, rubbing my neck—but my fingers have already done their job.

A tiny micro eavesdropper now sits, carefully placed behind the cupboard.

"The old lady seemed to know you," O'Brien says, still scrutinizing me.

I shrug. "I lived in the same block as her years ago." I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. "She's an annoying old hag."

Then I turn to Slim Joe. "Do you need me for anything else today?"

For a long moment, he just stares at me.

Finally, he exhales. "No. You're dismissed."

I nod. Ignoring O'Brien's lingering glare, I make my way out of the penthouse.

The moment I step outside, I slip the micro speaker into my ear.

"He's suspicious," O'Brien's voice crackles through.

"Weren't you the one who picked him?" Slim Joe counters.

"I know. His background checks out. But still, something about him—"

"It could just be a coincidence," Slim Joe mutters. "We're leaving Monday anyway. Just have the boys keep an eye on him tomorrow. Make sure he doesn't try anything."

O'Brien sighs. "Fine."

There's a long pause.

Then—

A loud yawn from Slim Joe.

"I need girls."

The words make my grip tighten on the handlebars of my motorcycle.

I slow my speed, focusing harder on their conversation.

"It's harder to get girls now," O'Brien says, his tone cautious. "Ever since that damn girl incident, people are watching you more closely. You need to be careful."

Slim Joe groans in frustration. "That stupid bitch!" he snaps. "Other girls don't mind! Hell, they're proud to say they've slept with me! But she had to act all high and mighty—had to drag me to court."

O'Brien just chuckles darkly.

"I don't care, Tony. Tell Malcom to provide us some girls. Make sure they're untouched or at least still tight. I need to satisfy myself before I go back to that old loose woman."

I grit my teeth.

That old woman—he's referring to the CEO of his record label.

She's twice his age and the reason he still has a career.

If she heard what he just said, Slim Joe's reputation would be buried faster than he could open his mouth to apologize.

And now—

I have exactly what I need.