“He did it, he did it,” Emma moaned, burying her face in her hands to hide her tears, though it was obvious that they were there.

The walls of the station were wolf gray, the exact shade of his shirt before it soaked with blood… but it wasn’t his blood. This just made her even more hysterical.

“Who did it, Miss?” An officer questioned, and it was obvious he was starting to lose patience.

“He did…” she continued to sob. She just couldn’t believe that he had.

“Miss Pritchett, so far this has been a 2-hour long murder trial, you’re the only witness, and the only information we’ve managed to get out of you so far is that the culprit is male,” a police officer with a long ponytail and a stony expression said exasperatedly.

“I’m sorry…” Emma continued, choking on a sob. “I… I can’t say.”

“Why is this, Miss Pritchett? Has he threatened you in any sort of way? We really need to know.” The police officer with the ponytail whipped out a notepad and pen with such force one would think it was a weapon.

“No… not exactly,” Emma said, swiping her nose. She looked around self consciously and adjusted herself on the small metal chair.

“What do you mean by not exactly? Miss Pritchett, if you don’t start giving up information more willingly, we will have no choice but to force it out of you. You are the only acclaimed witness to the murder of Isabella Stanton, and if you don’t start telling us what you saw, we will resort to assuming you are indeed a suspect,” the male police officer said.

“Uhm… I didn’t see much,” Emma confessed, “the guy.. uhm, his name’s Mark… he, he took me to an alley and.. told me to wait there for him…”

“Okay, and who is Mark? What’s his last name and what is he in relation to you?”

“Mark… uhh, I don’t really remember,” Emma said, “I’ve only known him for a week.”

“Miss Pritchett, why did he take you to an alley?”

“I don’t know, okay? I met him at a… at a party about a week ago, like I said. He was coming on to me, so I left, but he’d been following me and wouldn’t leave me alone,” Emma lied.

Mark wasn’t a stalker. He was her boyfriend. Mark wasn’t even his name. She well knew his full name. And she well knew that she was lying to a policeman. But she just couldn’t tell them. She was ashamed — ashamed that she loved him for him, or, who she thought he was.

But once the lies started rolling out of her mouth, she couldn’t stop them.

“He told me to wait in that alley, and so I did, and about fifteen minutes later he came back with… with…” her words dissolved back into tears.

“Isabella?” The officer with the ponytail asked gently, sensing Emma’s grief.

“Bella,” she moaned, just the thought of her best friend sending a spike of sadness through her body, striking her in the heart. She had to keep going. Had to keep feeding them the lies. What was wrong with her? Mark had killed her best friend… he killed Bella… yet, she still couldn’t force the words out of her that so wanted to come out.

“Bella was… she was tied up… gagged, and she was fighting his grip, she was fighting so hard.” Emma sniffled.

“And did you try to help her at all?”

“Of course I did,” Emma said — truthfully this time. She didn’t try to hurt Mark deliberately, but she did try to pull her best friend out of his grasp.

It was a moment of weakness. Looking back, she knew she should’ve — she could’ve — fought tooth and nail for Bella. She should’ve known Mark was messed up like that after two years. But she couldn’t seem to do it.

Scratching notes in the pad, the officer said, “Thank you, Miss Pritchett. Now we just need to know the details of death. We already have a general idea, but we’d like to confirm it with you.”

Emma breathed in heavily. Here came the hard part.