ELEVEN
I’m so tired; this terrible day feels like it’s gone on forever. When I think back to waking up this morning in the park, it’s like a distant memory, sometime weeks ago. I know it was only this morning. My eyes are stinging, and the lids are heavy. I want to close them, to rest, to sleep even, but I can’t. Whenever I try to shut them, I visualise the scene of Reggie lying dead on the ground, her body cold, her lipstick smudged. I cringe at the thought, even with my eyes open. It’s unbearable.
I’m back in the interview room, sitting at the table with my hands clasped over my face. Mr Giannisi is sitting next to me. He’s very kind. He’s been trying to make small talk. I realise he wants to keep my spirits up. But it’s pointless, I can’t concentrate on minutiae. This waiting seems en
