"You know why you're here, right?"

Lana closed her eyes, as if to block out the officer's intense stare. "You think I killed April Hadley," was her response.

Her old highschool friend was dead and it was all her fault. But they had it wrong. All of it.

Officer Blake leaned back in his chair, giving an appearance of being comfortable, while his partner Officer Johnson stood against the wall of the interrogation room, arms crossed and a heavy frown on his face. It was easy for Lana to see who was playing good and bad cop, although she knew Officer Blake was only pretending to be on her side.

Even still, she wanted to trust him. She wanted to talk to him - needed to talk to him. The past twelve hours had been the worst of her life; she was exhausted, needed food, stunk from a long summer day, and was emotionally raw. Lana wanted her mommy. She was a twenty-two year old woman who hadn't been back home in almost three years, and she wanted her mom.

Officer Blake pushed forward her untouched cup of water while Officer Johnson continued talking. "And did you?"

"I hadn't seen April since highschool - I haven't seen anyone since graduation."

"So what was she doing twenty thousand miles away from her home - in your apartment?"

"I. Don't. Know."

Of course Lana really did, but she knew they wouldn't believe the answer she would give them.

Officer Blake sighed, like she had disappointed him. "We found the pillow, Lana. The one you used to suffocate her with."

Lana's heart lurched - there was no way she was getting out of this now. Except by maybe telling the truth, but April made her promise she wouldn't.

If it wasn't for her nosy neighbor, the police wouldn't have been called, and Lana wouldn't be the prime suspect in a murder investigation. She'd had arrangements for the body to be removed discreetly - no one would have known what had gone on that night. Well, two people would know, but the one had been silenced forever.

Lana gripped the armrest of her cold metal chair, wanting to reach for the offered water but restraining herself because she knew it’d be seen as a sign of weakness. That after four hours of being held in this room, she was ready to talk.

Lana silently cursed April for doing this to her. Lana hadn’t even known why she’d agreed to it; she hadn’t seen her since highschool. Sure, they had been close, but wasn’t three years and twenty thousand miles enough to break any bond they might have had?

It wasn’t like Lana had been running away from something when she’d left so long ago, she’d just wanted a chance to make something of herself.

Officer Johnson smacked a hand on the table in front of her, making her jump. “Don’t you see we’re trying to help you here?”

Officer Blake gave her what Lana could only describe as a beseeching look, before he glanced down at her thin file. “No priors, not even a parking ticket? Cases like this could take months to get to trial - maybe even years. How long do you think you’re gonna last, locked up while you wait?”

I hate you. I hate you, April.

Lana wanted to scream the truth, but she forced herself to bite her lip hard and leaned back in her chair.

With a sigh, Officer Blake stood up. Both the officers left the room without another word, leaving Lana to imagine scenarios involving handcuffs and prison bars.

But almost an hour passed and nothing happened. Lana took in the deepest breath she'd had for a while, but the small measure of calm popped like an overinflated bubble when the door creaked open once again.

It was Officer Blake, for once without his stoic partner, his expression softer than she'd ever seen it.

She told herself it was just another trick, but a small voice deep inside of her hoped foolishly that he had discovered the truth on his own. So Lana wouldn't have to confess and break the promise of a dying woman.

His mouth opened and Lana tensed.

But all he said was, “She was sick, wasn’t she?”

Lana refused to say anything, because she knew the moment her mouth opened the truth would come spilling out.

But Officer Blake wasn’t finished. “Stage four cancer, nasty stuff. She only had, what, six months to live?”

“Four,” Lana found herself saying.

“Must have been a complete change in her life, right? Because of how active she was. You followed her on Instagram, so surely you saw all those half-marathons she often ran."

Lana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block memories of all those posts that held April's smiling face. She'd always been so full of life - even back in highschool, she'd never succumbed to the depression and melodrama that seemed to infect their school.

"Must have been one of the biggest shocks of her life, huh, knowing she couldn't do anything she used to do anymore. She was practically bedridden, right? Could've caused even the best people to snap."

"Please stop," Lana whispered.

"She canceled all her credit cards," he continued, almost like he hadn't even heard her, "paid off all her debit, gave her dog to her parents, even put her home up for sale." He paused. "Almost like she knew she was going to die a lot quicker than what the doctors had said."

"Stop," Lana said louder.

"But what really had me confused was, why you? She hadn't seen you in person for over three years and it wasn't like you guys kept in touch all the time." He finally sat down in the seat across from Lana. "But you owed her, didn't you? Saved you from committing suicide, almost five years ago, and you'd been in her debt ever since." He grimaced. "Terrible thing to do to a person; save their life so they could take yours." He finally looked her in the eye. "And yet you still did it."

"No," Lana tried to protest. "No, I-"

But he wasn't done. "The pillow we found didn't match any in your apartment. But it did match ones we found in hers." He'd laid down on the pieces, now it was time to fit them together. "She came to your apartment - with the pillow she'd brought from home - and asked you to kill her. A mercy killing, no doubt, but still something that would make even the most hardest criminal stumble. Did you agree right away? Or did she have to convince you - maybe even remind you of what she had done for you? I suppose it doesn't really matter, you still killed her in the end. I wonder how it would have been, if the neighbor hadn't heard noise and called it in. Would you have kept on living your life like nothing had happened?" His stare was intense. "Do you even feel remorse for what you did? Or were you simply grant-"

"Does it matter?" were the words that scrapped out of Lana's dry mouth. "She's dead and it's my fault."

Officer Blake stood up, feeling a measure of disgust at Lana's lack of emotion. "She is, isn't she," was all he said. He walked out of the room then, and it was only as the door was shutting that he heard the sounds of sobs, coming out of the interrogation room. Officer Blake just shook his head, as he walked down the hallway that had never seemed so bleak and forlorn before.

Sometimes he wished he had never pinned his badge on.

"I killed them, because they invited me in. They practiclly asked me to." The white male in his early thrities looked back at me with a serene face. You would think he was sitting in a park enjoying the spring weather instead of chained to the table in the California State Police Department. The detective looked the young man in the eyes, but turned away, unable to stomach the peacefulness of his demeanor, "Please explain how somebody thinks an unlocked door is a death sentence?"

"You see, Detective, if someone keeps their door unlocked, it means you're allowed to come in and do as you like. If a door is locked, it means they are busy and shouldn't be bothered. Eevryone knows that." The detective adjusted uncomfortably in his chair, "You think an open door gives you the right to murder a pregnant woman with two children and then eat them?" The young man shrugged with the attitude as if I had asked him how his day had been, "Not necessarily."

The detective slammed his fist down on the table, "Then why do it!?" The young man was unflinching, "Alright, I'll admit it. I was in the neighborhood and saw them coming inside after going to the grocery store. I was pretty sure I had known her in high school. I just wanted to say hello." The detective spit, losing his professionalism, "So, how did they all end up dead?"

The young man brought up his chained hands to tap his chin in thought, "I knocked, but no one answered. And since the front door was unlocked, I just went inside. She got really angry for some reason, and threateend to call the police," he continued casually like he was commenting about the weather, "I really didn't want to go back to the Ward, so I shot her. And then her kids wouldn't stop crying, so I shot them, too."

The detective picked up a manila envelope from the corner of the table. Opening it, he revealed crime scene photos depicting the blood-soaked victims. On their necks and bellies were teeth marks and knife wounds that resembled cutting into a turkey. The young man reached out and stroked the photos lovingly, "Oh, I remember now. The little ones were so tasty. And she was so lovely. She was all grown up from that awkward teenager I knew in school."

The detective snatched away the photos in disgust, "They are DEAD, you bastard. You murdered them in cold blood, descrated their bodies, and now you don't even show a shred of remorse! You are a sickening criminal, and I'm going to do everything to make sure you're punished to the full extent of the law. You'll never see the light of day, again." The young man cocked his head in confusion at the detective, "But... the door was unlocked."

***Note: On the 8th of May 1980, the jury found Richard Chase guilty of six counts of first degree murder after entering the premises when the door was unlocked. Rejecting the argument that he was not guilty by reason of insanity, sentenced him to die in the gas chamber. His fellow inmates, aware of the extremely violent nature of Chase's crimes, feared him, and according to prison officials, often tried to persuade Chase to commit suicide.

On December 26, 1980, Chase was found in his cell, dead. An autopsy found that he committed suicide with an overdose of prescribed antidepressants that he had saved over several weeks.

In a small town precinct, two officers whooshed their words in each other’s ears so tight, both of their ear hair inappropriately stood at attention. Intimate spit wasn’t meant to be a part of their questioning, and was only a minor distraction compared to the body seated behind the partition of the makeshift interrogation room.

“Is she saying what I think she’s saying?”

“I think she is.”

“Guilty of murder and innocent of a crime? Do you think there is a precedent for this particular type of justifiable homicide?”

“Don’t know Guy. Damn. Hell if I know.”

“Ask her to explain what happened again. Maybe she left something out and it will make sense on her second go around.”

Five steps later, they tried hard to keep their eyes everywhere else but on the suspect, ceiling tiles, posters, gun racks, unsure if they would have the balls to chase her should she make a run for it.

“Ah, excuse me Miss Drake. Would you mind repeating what you just explained to Officer Flannery and me, and please be sure to take your time and use your memory to the best of your ability.”

“So, like I said. He had it bad for me, if you know what I mean.” Still not looking at her, neither of them saw the cute way she cupped her slender fingers over her mouth. “His parents were away for the weekend. Acapulco I think. Mexico. Or was it Vegas. Does that matter? He asked me to come over at 8 p.m. It was a Friday, no maybe Saturday. I forgot. Does that matter? It was a long time ago. He put on Back to the Future, cause I told him that was my favorite movie and he even made popcorn, buttered, I think. Does that matter?”

The suspect paused long enough for Officer Flannery to say, “Just continue please and let us do the worrying about what matters, OK?”

“OK, OK. I just want to get things right. So where was I. Popcorn. Maybe it was the kind that goes in the microwave. We were watching the part where George McFly falls out of the tree. I like that part, and I laughed real hard, so did he, and maybe our laughter was what broke up our obvious tension, cause it was then that he got up the nerve to make a move. Second base. Ya know?” Still they had no idea how cute she looked when she was being coy. What would their wives think if they were in the room was looming over both of their minds.

“And then one thing lead to another, and then it happened.”

“That’s it. The “IT” that happened. Please make us understand. You said you admit to leaving him unresponsive, and that you didn’t mean for him to die, so how could second base be responsible for his death?”

“OK. OK. Let me explain. Have you seen these girls?”

And this time they had to look at them as she pointed to the gorilla in the room. 40 DDD’s. They were doing their job. Collecting evidence.

“He told me it was his biggest fantasy to stick his face in there,” she pointed at them again, “So I let him stick his head under my blouse and I just continued on with watching McFly. Next thing I know, Johnny is not moving at all and I say, hey Johnny, wake up, sort of insulted and all because no guy ever falls asleep when they are around me, and it was then that I wiggled myself away from him to see a shade a gray to his skin that weren’t there before he dove in, so that’s when I figured I better run. I put a pillow over his face before I left to make it look like an accident or suicide, and really Mr., I mean Officer, it was an accident. Not my fault. And I’ve been keeping this secret for so long I almost forgot about it. In a way I’m glad to get it off my chest, oops, wrong word, conscience. My conscience. No one ever even knew I was at his house, except for Julie. I told my parents I was at her house. And really we could have just let this be if it wasn’t for Julie opening up her damn mouth after all these years. She’s the only one that knew I was seeing Johnny that night. I wonder what made her talk after all these years?”

It wasn’t as if she didn’t invite the two men to look at her two skin covered pillows, aka murder weapons during her explanation.

″Beat me…..,” Flannery blurted, thinking with the little head instead of his bald brain. With a slight pause, still staring, he was poked by his partner, and snapped out of his hypnotic knocker trance, both of them moving their eyes back up to the ceiling. Could Flannery say it was the drool sliding off his hanging tongue that caused him to drop a defining “s”?

“I mean beats me?” adding an important "s", correcting himself, turning 50 Shades of red.

“Officer, all I can say is I snapped. I just couldn’t take it anymore.” The uniformed man, slightly overweight, looked at me inquiringly.

I continue, “Let me give you a little bit of background. I took Maura Cunnigham under my wing. I introduced her to my core friend group when she knew nobody. I tried to make her feel welcome when she was new to the school.”

I breathe in, an angry shuddering breath.

“And what does she do? She alienates me from said friend group. She makes sure I am excluded from get togethers. She badmouths me until others believe her and take her side.”

I stand up, hands on my hips, my voice shaking in anger.

“You know why? Because instead of giving her the name of my crush, who I knew deep down was unattainable anyway, I make up a name. Because of that she called me a liar.” I continue, “And I try to be an optimist. Maybe I wasn’t sympathetic enough to her problems, because back then I was a dumb kid who didn’t know any better. I didn’t have a chronic illness, or a sick parent. I just did the best I could with the limited knowledge I had.”

I wipe away a stray tear. “Does this make me a bad person? And my blog that you asked me about? I needed some place to vent my frustration since I felt I had no friends. But does that make me a bully as she accused?”

The officer speaks softly but deliberately, “So, what happened?”

“I ran into her at the mall and she just gives me a look. I should have walked away but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I follow her out to her car and say to Maura, ’I’m sorry if I hurt you. I feel bad about that but do you have to go around smearing my name? She just smirks and taunts, 'What a bully.'” My voice is shaking, “You take that back.

She shakes her head and just gives me this accusing look. Then she shoves me, ‘Admit you are a bully. Everything I said about you and worse is true. You’ve lied about everything and I don’t know who you are. You want all your friends to die. I heard it with my own ears. You couldn’t even admit you liked Max and when he started dating Jenny you were mad with jealousy. When Jenny had mono, you wished she would die.’”

I shake my head as I explain to the officer, “That’s not what happened at all. It was Maura who brought it up in a way that I interpreted as sarcastic. And believing such, I laughed it off. I have never wished anyone dead in my life.”

The officer gave me a pointed look. “The thing with Maura was an accident. I was so mad at what she said and I had enough of her accussations. Without thinking, it was almost as if I was another person, I wrapped my hands around her neck. I started shaking her and screaming ‘You take it all back.’ I just kept yelling, screaming, and shaking her, my hands getting tighter around her neck and then she went limp in my arms. Officer, I never meant to kill her. I never wanted any of my friends dead. Would never even wish that on Maura even though she was a classless b*tch. I just had enough. Looking at those cold blue eyes just made me snap.”

“It was me.” She snarled, reaching across the cold metal table with her pointy sharp fingernails. It made a clink! sound as it hit the edge of the table, and the officer sitting in front of her jolted a bit, alarmed by the level of aggression coming from the small woman. The room was a dark, muted, ugly gray, and whereas the woman had just fit in, suddenly her long black hair and big brown eyes did not seem so innocent, and the ferocious form of her features made him want to grab a pair of handcuffs.

“That bitch stole my boyfriend right from me in the 10th grade. He was in love with me!” Her voice raised, turned into a screech at this point, and her voice boomed in the hollow room. The shrill made her sound much older, like a haggard old witch cursing a young woman for her choices. “He loved me, and that stupid two-timing bitch stole him from right under.”

“Ma’am, it was ten years ago.” The officer sighed, his hand clicking uncomfortable on the desk. He had his confession, he had every right to walk out of the door, but something about the woman made him fearful to leave. He was being ridiculous, he was the one with a gun hanging on his hip, but he was suddenly very nervous about what would happen if he left before the witch finished her story.

“He was my soulmate, you absolute fool! I loved everything about him. He was perfect for me and I was perfect for him, except when she came along he was blind! Blind I tell you! It was those ruby red lips I tell you, there were shining with cocaine!.”

The officer remembered the rep lips, oddly, of the dead woman they were mentioning. She worked in corporate now, her office representing a shiny future with sparkling windows and a strong mahogany desk - although the red lip had never changed. In all of the photos on her desk, and even lingering on the remains of her dead body, a stark red lip had painted her plump form, and she had died with the color playing perfectly in.

Never mind that it wasn’t laced with cocaine (the forensic scientist had it tested), but the woman had been a serious homewrecker, and he had interviewed four other women about the relationships of their significant other.

One had not even known her wife had been sleeping with another woman, and when the officer had mentioned the rosy red lips, she had collapsed into a puddle of tears, seeping into his favorite blue dress shirt and onto his white undershirt. Her snot had been a mucus green, and after two and a half showers it still made his stomach clench to look down at his chest.

Now, however, the case was closed, and he could rest easy this weekend, maybe catch the new romance movie playing at the theater.

“But my stupid ex-boyfriend had it coming, leaving me for her.”

The police lights lit up the night and one of the officers were talking to a small child.

"There, there little one. We're taking your sister's friend into custody where she can't hurt anyone anymore. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Julie." Sobbed the little girl, whose sister had just been stabbed to death.

"I didn't do anything!! I didn't kill my friend! Let me go!" I shouted.

"Keep her quiet! She's done enough for one night!" Yelled the commanding officer, before turning back to Julie. "Everything will be alright, we're here to help."

They locked me in the back of the car where my screams and pleads were muffled.

Then the parrot spoke up. At first it screeched as if it were screaming, getting the attention of those around it. And then it began to beg: "Please don't stab me Julie!!"