Abby
I’m sitting in the sterile confines of the police station, the room buzzing with the noise of ringing phones and chatter. I can’t help but fidget in my seat as the detective shifts across from me, jotting notes down on a clipboard.
“So, you’re absolutely sure you can’t think of anyone who might want to harm you?” the detective, an older man with a receding hairline asks, eyeing me over a stack of papers.
“Detective, if I had enemies, I’d be the first to tell you. I swear, I really can’t think of anyone.”
He nods, scribbling something down. “Alright. But keep your eyes open. This may just be a random targeting, but it’s certainly not an accident. Call us if you think of something, or someone, who might shed some light on this situation.”
“I will, thank you,” I say, standing up to
