Page 110 of Collateral Damage

“No.” I whisper, recalling the bickers eight months ago and even then, she wouldn’t lay a hand on me. Even when I put my hands on her with anguish.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No…”

“Then I’d say you’re pretty safe, wouldn’t you?”

Her voice haunts me as I cling to her melody in my head, her deep, throaty engine, replaying it like a broken exhaust as I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m so tired, alone, scared.I’m terrified.Being in this room is making me so claustrophobic and I want to hurl being this close to a man right now, flinching at the thought of their hands on me as they dragged me off her lifeless body, unresponsive and pale. How they dragged her away like she was a bit of dirt.

I’m mourning for someone who was dead the moment this started and her face is a permanent picture in my head, lookingright back at me. Smiling, but all I feel is an unbearable ache that's crippling me from sitting up straight.

She wouldn’t even tell me she loved me until her last dying breath. A wave of insufferable anger washes over me, hating that those were her last words to me, gripping the seat either side of my feet as I dig my nails into the flimsy plastic.

“Did Miss Moore touch you inappropriately?” I swallow the truth down my throat as I spit out another lie, trying not to think about the way her hands felt against my skin, crushing my soul every passing second I think about the fact I’ll never be able to feel it again. I won’t be able to hold her again, or kiss every inch of her skin like I promised, as I graze my lips, realising her soft, sweaty skin is probably erased from my mouth by now and it's destroying me.

“No.” He lets out an irritated huff, placing the papers down on the desk as he interlocks his fingers, feeling his fragile, sympathetic gaze on me as he leans into the table.

“You can be honest.”

I know I can. But I won’t. Channelling my inner rage, trying to find the strength in hating her as I dig for more lies, trying to cover up what really happened and I’m vibrating with an ache worse than my own end as I snap back, and I can’t tell who I’m trying to lie to. Me or him.

“She never touched me.” I hiss, nearly choking on my dishonesty as I finally look at him looking back at me like I am a compulsive liar. Water and painkillers sit perfectly in front of me and I’m refusing to take them. I almost didn’t take my insulin but I was ordered by a nurse who was fairly kind to me, helping me as I couldn’t even hold it steady but my food has already come up and I’ve not slept for almost 48 hours, terrified to let myself drift off into more nightmares. Terrified to see her dead eyes glaring back at me. Every time I close my eyes it's all I see.

“Did you share any sort of relationship with Miss Moore?” He asks confidently and I’m milliseconds from puking as the last few months of our lives replays on a agonising loop in my head like a happy movie which I thought would make me feel better but it only makes this worse and I can taste bile in my throat. I want to hate her. I want to scream, belt, throw this god damn fucking table across this room!It should have been me!

“No…” I contain my internal burning as he glares at me with visible annoyance, grinding his teeth in his pristine uniform and I used to feel so safe in the eyes of the law but I’ve never felt more unsafe. More repulsed by them, trying to get my head around the fact they were going to open fire on an innocent girl. How they opened fire when they know it's against the law unless it's self-defence.Self-defence.I squint at the words, realising the route of all of this.This system. These people.They are all frauds.

“Are you aware she killed your parents?” he bites, clearly trying to hit a nerve and it does. It's been almost a year and I’d nearly forgotten but their faces suddenly appear, screaming at me. Telling me how I betrayed them and guilt smothers my body.

“Yes.” I did. And I don’t know what will happen if I confess I was ever romantically involved with her. I myself may end up behind bars for willingly letting this go unnoticed. She gave me more than one opportunity to run away but I stayed.

“How does that make you feel?”

I don’t know. I don’t know how it makes me feel. I’m in no fit state to be answering questions right now, all I can think about is her and it makes me want to die, I’m frightened to live. The cameras, the press, the questions, the knife rammed into my chest, it’s all too fucking much. I told her my heart would stop beating when hers did but I’m still breathing and I don’t deserve to be.

I don’t answer, glaring back at the invisible faces behind the glass that I know are watching me. Watching every move I make.

“Miss Blackthorne. It states here that you intervened during the time of breach. Can you tell me why?” If I told them why, I’d be in so much trouble. But If I lie they will be able to tell.

You are a terrible liar.

“I'm not sure.” I chew the cuff ofherhoodie, having ripped apart my lips and wipe my face dry of my grieving.

“Did you have feelings for Miss Moore?” My airways jam. Finally hit with reality, my feelings begin to suffocate me. I was inLovewith the woman who ruined my entire life, not once but twice and my jaw locks as stray tears push over my lashes. Was it evenLove? Infatuation? A bond by trauma? Did I just think I was because I had no one else?

“No…” He pulls a device from his pocket, placing it on the table. A recorder of sorts. But not the one we are already using to document this conversation. He presses play and her last moments begin playing out the crackly speaker, finding it hard to see as I hear the fear rip through my throat and her voice tears through my core like alcohol.

“Please! Listen to me!”

“Alora. Let. Go. You need to let me go.”

“You need to listen to me! She doesn’t deserve this! You need to hear her out! Please!”

“I need her! Please don’t take her away from me!”

“Alora, baby. Let me go. Just trust me.”

He glares at me, cocking his head slightly as his eyes narrow and my heart stops.

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