Thirty-sixAs they brought the body down from the bandstand, Marilyn found it difficult to keep her temper. The media swooped like vultures, eager for the tiniest of morsels. Camera shutters snapped, voices gaggled, everyone pushing and shoving to get the best shots. The ambulance personnel did their best to ward them off, zipping the body bag up to the top of the head as fast as they could, but that didn't stop the journalists and photographers trying to get the merest glimpse of who it was that had destroyed the lives of so many.
Marilyn surrendered to it and stepped away, watching the mad scramble as the body was put into the back of the ambulance. Questions, questions. The voices barked, but she didn't hear any of them. She was elsewhere, far away, the blood on her hands. Nothing else
