FIORELLA BIANCHI
I am still in the interrogation room, making my statement to both the police and the press at the same time. I did not want any cameras, hence I am only being voice recorded. I did not think that it could take this long, and I am already tired of all the questions. I just want to leave.
“So, you thought it was good to blame someone else for what Marcus did to you? How do we even know that you are telling the truth now? Do you have any proof to support your statement now?” The detective asks.
“I am telling you. Why don’t you believe what I am telling you?”
“Because you lied at first. Why would anyone want to believe you now?”
“Because it is the truth!” I scream.
The door opens, and a very tall mean-looking lady walks in, wearing formal clothes and holding a brief
