The cold, sterile room with fluorescent lights overhead is stark reminder to what had happened 2 months ago. Why would I do that to someone I love? No. I'd never do such a thing. I try and piece together that night... last night. Was it hours ago...? A day ago. Minutes ago?
"Mrs Blue? I am so sorry for your loss," a gruff voice said. Was it me? No. It's not me, someone else. "I am Detective Wolfe working on your case. Could you please tell me what happened?"
I shifted in the seat—eyes darting everywhere and then to my hands. Dark, red stained them. Or at least that's how they seemed. Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes. "It's okay,.. take your time..."
My breath came in ragged, slow—and then it picked up speed. Did I really kill him? No. No. NO. I slam my palms onto the table—eyes downcast. Only an insane person will do such a thing.
 "Yanna? Mrs Blue?"
I look at the detective—glaring at him like he might do something to me. I didn't speak, only stared at him like he was the insane person. My hands grow numb—vision narrows.
Eyes roll back. Darkness consumes me whole.
———
I stir awake and look around. Is this where I think it is? Am I arrested? "Oh... you.,. Who are you?"
"As I said, I'm Detective Kane."
Leaning forward on the table—cold metal, dark green. "You do this often Detective?"
His eyes study me. "Sorry?"
"Interrogate people?" I ask, motioning my hand around the room. Stale air—harsh lighting. The faint hum of ac overhead. Everything—suffocating. "Or is this part of the Job?"
He didn't answer me right away—weighing his options. Sizing me up, his gaze lingers on me. "I've done it long enough to know when they're hiding something," he finally says, loosening his tie.
I laugh—short, dry sound. "Hiding something? You think I'm hiding something?"
Hugging my knees close to my chest, I smirk. His expression hardens—a flicker of something passes in them. "Your not making this easy, Mrs Blue"
"You're not making this quite difficult," I retort, staring at him.
He lets out a huff of air. I see now. He's accusing me, isn't he? "You think I killed them?"
"I don't make assumptions based on mere speculation. I do them based on evidence."
"Evidence? Are you kidding?"
I start chuckling and clapping. He adjusts his tie several more times. As I keep laughing I black out again.
——-
"Detective? What happened? What were we talking about?" I ask when I comeback to reality. How long was I passed out?
He cleared his throat and asked, "Are you okay? Do you need some water?"
"No I'm fine," I say, even though my throats a little dry.
"Okay let's begin... I'm gonna read you your rights. Are you okay with that ma'am?"
"Miranda...right?"
"That's right."
He chuckles a little, grabbing the papers inside a folder—black, and not too visible. I take a deep breath. Cleaning his throat once again, he begins to read me my rights. Miranda rights.
"You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you at no cost. If at any point you wish to... not speak you may do so...."
Calmly he reads the rest of it out loud to me, eyes on the white papers—on the black letters. I just stare at the detective in front me as he drones on for a few minutes until. "Do you understand the rights as I've read them to you?"
"Yes," I reply, a lump in my throat. A small recording device—sleek, silver is placed onto the table.
"This is state issued recording device. I'm not allowed to use my phone here. Not admissible in court... plus it might get lost cause kids,.."
I nod along. "Right so..."
He presses a button it, springing the device to life. The red light blinks a couple times.