“My name’s Deborah,” I said, my voice shaking a little. I was trying my best to appear calm but I knew my face was betraying me, “my friends call me Debbie, you can call me Debbie, if you want.” God, why was this happening to me? I’m a good woman! “I have two kids,” the tears were coming down, “a girl and a boy. Grant, he loves soccer, and my little Harper. She does dance, she wants to be a ballerina when she grows up,” my voice was cracking now, tears rolling down my cheeks and I took a deep, staggering breath, “want to be a ballerina as a little girl is so cliché but she’s really good, I swear. What do you want? I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t kill me please.” I’ve devolved to pleading for my life, sobbing. I know my eyes were rimmed with red now and I could barely get in a good breath, panic overwhelming my thought process. “I work, I work at an office as a secretary, my husband and I… we’re… we’re trying for a third kid! I’m hoping for a little boy, a little brother to Harper and Grant. I want to name him Harley, I think that would be so cute, Harper and Harley, but I don’t know how Grant fits…” I was rambling, I knew I was, but I couldn’t stop.