Stones and clods of dirt rained down on me once again, hitting my head, shoulders, and back. I curled over in pain, too weak to even dodge the blows.
"I didn't do it. I really didn't kill anyone." My voice was so faint it could barely be heard.
My lips trembled as I struggled to speak, yet no clear words came out. I knew every piece of evidence at the scene pointed straight to me as the killer.
I stared down at my own hands, my mind going completely blank.
Everyone said I'd murdered those men, but I truly couldn't remember a single thing that had happened.
Just then, an old, furious voice cut through the crowd from outside. "Megan, stop this at once."
Roderick was covered in fresh wounds, his clothes torn to rags. Two aides held him back, yet he fought with all his strength to break
