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¨Take a seat.¨ The detective who´s badge says, RUTHERFORD gestures toward the white folding chair across the table. I fold my arms over the back of my dress as I sit, gulping at Rutherford´s stern expression across the table.
¨There is no reason to be nervous¨ He states coldly. He glances at me and raises his eyebrow as my left leg begins to tremble under the table. He´s right. There is no reason to be nervous. But yet I still am. How can I not? I am sitting in an interrogation room across the table from a man who has no intention of believing anything I say. And how can I blame him? All the evidence points towards me. I wouldn´t believe me either. He is glaring at me now and I become aware that he was talking while I stared into space stupidly and this only makes me seem more guilty. I mentally slap myself. ¨What?¨ I ask dumbly. He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. ¨Are you guilty of something Miss?¨ I struggle to keep my eyes focused on his face. They cannot wander. My eyes only wander when I lie. And I am not lying. ¨No. I did not do anything.¨ He gives me a look. One of those looks. That say, Stop wasting my time and just tell me the truth so I can put you under the cell where we both know you belong. He slides his chair closer to the table and opens a beige colored file. ¨I have to tell you,¨ he says as his eyes skim the page. ¨It is going to be very hard to convince the judge of that when there´s motivation, your prints, a hate letter, the list just goes on. Is there any way you can prove that you did not commit this murder?¨