Where were we again?

“All right, all right, just stop!” yelled the officer, slamming his fist on the table.  “Get to the point, Ms. Sharkey.”
“I told you, officer…I’m getting there.” I said, sparking up a Marlboro Menthol.

He snatched the cigarette out of my hand and put it out on the hardwood table of the interrogration room without so much as blinking an eye.

“Do you have any idea what the charges are against you, Ms. Sharkey?  You had better get to the point because I don’t give a shit about your love life.”
“You said you wanted to know how I came to be in the apartment and I’m telling you.” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Look Ms. Sharkey,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes, “you seem like a nice kid and I want to help you but you’ve got to give me something.  You’re looking at breaking and entering, assault in the first degree, resisting arrest and harassment.  If you don’t start talking, there won’t be much I can do for you.”

I looked to the double-glass mirror and turned back to the officer, “She took everything from me.” I cried.  “Everything.”
“Is that why you were in the apartment tonight?  To hurt her?”
“I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“Then why were you there?”

“Like I said, officer, I’m getting there.  You can’t possibly understand how I came to be in that room unless you know what I lost…”
“So you were there to get back at her?”
“I was there to tell him the truth…”
“And what was that, Ms. Sharkey?” the officer asked, leaning in close to me.
“That we were made for each other.”

“All right, Ms. Sharkey…I’m giving you one last chance to get your story straight.” he said, passing me a lighter.

I smiled and took a menthol from the table, “Like all good stories, officer, it all began with a boy…”

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