“What happened that night?” The policeman asked.

Ginger bit her lip, looking at her mother. “Well… my boyfriend, Jake, he uhm… he… he shot me.”

Her mother, Mrs. Kline, gaped at her daughter. “He shot you?!”

The policeman’s eyebrows were raised but he maintained his calm demeanor. “And where exactly did he shoot you, Miss Kline?”

Ginger raised a shaking finger and pointed it at her heart.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Jake… shot you. In the heart?”

Ginger let out a sob. “Yes! And I fell over and he kept pummeling me with these painful bullets… and I couldn’t take it anymore!” She buried her face in her hands.

“Well, Miss Kline. It seems we might need to bring Jake in.” The policeman beckoned with his hand to the policeman standing at the door who looked absolutely petrified. But he obeyed his superior and opened the door, letting two other policemen lead in a scraggly teenager in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs.

“Mr. Cane… Miss Kline seems to think you shot her in the heart. Is this statement true?” The sitting policeman asked him, an amused glint in his eye.

Jake widened his eyes. “Shot her?” He let out a raspy laugh. “No, officer. I never have a gun on me, much less know how to use one. All I did was break up with her.”

Everyone looked at Ginger, who emerged from her turtle shell. “What,” she whispered, her wide glassy eyes blinking slowly, “that’s what it felt like.”