“I-it’s not wh-hat it looks like!” She stammered, allowing tears to flow down her soft cheeks.

She could feel them there, every eye watching her. She’d dealt with their kind before, but this was different. Never had it been this soon. They whispered to one another, she couldn’t tell what they were saying, but she knew it wasn’t good.

Her hands were covered with blood. “I came home from work, and there he was!” She glanced up at the woman standing right across from her, trying to will a look of desperation into her eyes. All that she could think of was the blood on her hands. Again and again she told herself, ‘you can’t taste it, not with all of them watching…’ Instead she looked down at the mess, choking out another sob. “Who did this to him? How could this happen?”

It was starting to work, she could hear the sympathy in their voices. To them she was a victim, a woman who lost her husband. A quiet voice told her it would be alright, not to leave town.

She nodded, stepping away from the mirror.