AVERY’S POV:
The fluorescent light overhead buzzed faintly as I sat on the edge of the stiff, beige cot, clutching the scratchy blanket draped over my lap. My skin felt cold despite the room being slightly stuffy. The noise outside reminded me I wasn’t alone. Yet, somehow, I had never felt lonelier.
The door creaked open, and a detective stepped in. He looked so bored and skeptical, like he would rather be having a drink with the boys than dealing with me. He carried a leather notebook in one hand, and his badge clipped to his belt.
The man—Detective Harrington, as he had introduced himself—had already questioned me for hours, his patience wearing thin with each answer I gave. Initially, he was fully engaged as I began my statement. However, his attention waned the moment I started d
