Celeste gulped down a hard lump of anxiety down her throat, finally coming up with the conclusion, to whether tell the truth or not.
She finally sighed in frustration and looked straight ahead at the men in front of her.
“Well... where should I begin with?” she smiled at them, trying to sound as positive about her life as possible.
“You see... when I was five years old, my Mom killed my Dad, right in front of my own eyes...” she sighed, making everyone’s eyes go wide but the compose and poise that Celeste maintained was quite hysterically unbelievable.
“... and then she chloroformed the s**t out me, shoved me in a suitcase and carried me on a God knows how many hours trip back down to the States...”
“That still doesn’t answer my question...”
Before Charlie could’ve said another word
