22
Hannah had never in her life been in a police station but its severe impersonality, she thought with that new, not-part-of-all-this feeling, made it an appropriate place to tell her bleak story, unemotionally and without passion. That story which had been leading up to this point for years, if she had but realised it, but she had only known it with certainty after she’d fired that first shot.
She had, since being arrested, discovered qualities in herself, a courage she hadn’t dreamed she could possess, that made her ready to accept the consequences of what she’d done. She was afraid of breaking down, however, of letting her defences crumble in front of these accusing strangers. No – she quelled the trembling within – she would not do that: she’d learned the hard way how to keep a rein
