“No.” Anne crinkles up her forehead.

“And where were you on the evening of Sunday, October 15th?”

“Like I said, I was having drinks with Sarah Morgan until around midnight.” Anne stares intently at Sheriff Stevens.

“She knew about Adam’s affair in the weeks leading up to the murder, and she didn’t say anything. Maybe if she would have told me, this wouldn’t have happened. Kelly would still be alive. I would have confronted Adam. We’d either be working toward reconciliation, or I’d be prepping divorce papers, but either way, he wouldn’t be on trial for murder.” I turn to look at Matthew for a moment.

He nods his head. “What’s done is done.”

I let out a sigh and redirect my attention back at Anne, glaring at her through the glass. I can’t believe she didn’t fucking tell me. A piece of my brain is telling me to erupt at Anne and before I can quiet it, I’m bursting through the door of the interrogation room.

“Sarah please…” but Anne’s words are cut short as I dive headlong across the table and tackle her to the ground. I start pummeling her face, pretending she is the manifestation of everyone who has fucked me over in my life. My knuckles and rings gouge into her skin. Sheriff Stevens tries to pull me off, but I elbow him in the nose and send him reeling. As Anne slowly climbs back to her feet, she tries to cry for help, but her mouth is so full of blood all that comes out is a weak gurgle and pink mist. I run over, grab her by the hair, begin to spin her around in circles, and then I release her straight through the one-way mirror. Pieces of glass rain everywhere, and I pick up a particularly jagged piece as I continue my rampage toward Anne…

I blink repeatedly bringing my mind back to reality. I see Anne and Sheriff Stevens sitting in the interrogation room. I need a break from this shit. My head is in the clouds right about now. Everyone I thought I could trust, I’ve learned I can’t. I don’t even know which emotion to pick, and I decide that getting some fresh air is my best course of action. I quickly get up.

Matthew asks if I’m all right. I nod and walk down the hall to find Marge still with her nose in her paperwork.

“Excuse me. Marge, is it? I’m heading outside for some air if that’s okay?”

“This isn’t kindergarten, ma’am. You don’t need my permission to walk in and out of a building,” Marge replies, still without looking up from her work.

“I just thought you would… Never mind.” I walk out the door. “Bitch,” I say under my breath.