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‘Did you have any concerns for her safety before you blew it off and went to bed?’
‘How did you sleep?’
‘When was the last time you spoke to Gigi?’
‘Did she ever say anything to you that might suggest she’d wanna hurt herself?’
Blow my fucking brains out already.
It’s torture.
And she can’t muster it within herself to give answers anymore. Not after the first half-dozen round of questions.
She just hums. Nods. Shakes her head. Grunts.
She’s sat opposite Deputy Wade at the table—he has a coffee for himself. Didn’t bring her one, only brought her some water, asshole.
And between them, there’s that one piece of paper in the beige folder on the table. She peeked a glance at it earlier. Just some notes on Gigi, how they found her, who found her, all that stuff.
Billie’s bony arms are folded over her chest and her head drooped; the point of her chin nearly rests against her forearm as the boredom and post-cry sets in. It’s all she can do to just keep her eyes open.
Wade can’t get much out of her. She just mumbles the same words over and over.
‘Gigi’s face, it’s blue, it’s twisted.’
That’s all. It’s all she sees when she dares close her eyes.
And all she really hears, even behind the muffled voice of the Deputy, is Tonya’s savage scream as she fell to her knees and Billie had slipped down the wall, stunned.
It’s another hour of this before Deputy Wade leaves.
She’s alone again in the cold room.
Hugging her arms around her bare, prickled arms, she brings up her knees and tucks her chin to rest on them. Still in Grace’s cotton shorts and t-shirt, but with the black boots on that she wore to her shift at the Rest, Billie’s not feelin’ too comfortable, too warm.
Curled up in the seat, she stares ahead.
She just stares.
Right at the glass on the wall opposite, but she only sees herself: The red smeared across her eyes from all the rubbing and weeping; the swell of her mouth; the tangled clumps of her hair she must have been pulling at.
She shuts her eyes.
Time passes. Too much time. So much time.
Until—
The door opens and, expecting the Deputy again, she only throws a weary glance at the man in the doorway.
But she blinks, then looks back at the door again, eyes wider.
Her heart clenches in her chest. Her face twists with a fresh wave of tears. And her heart falls to her bum.
Billie scrambles off the chair and runs at him, runs right into his solid chest.
And his arms come around her. Safety.
I’m safe here.
