The living room was in disarray. The mirror shattered, couch cushions thrown on the floor, end tables flipped over, lamps broken and drops of blood embedded into the carpet. The fireplace heated up the room as the fire's blaze gave the room a tint of light. A body laid faced down, motionless in the center as a pool of blood began surrounding his form.

A woman is hunched over the body, breathing heavily as sirens could be heard in the near distance. The pinned up hair on her head falls flat around her sweaty face. She uses her free hand to wipe the wet strands of hair off of her face, as she rises to her feet. Her feet are planted firmly on the ground, as her occupied hand tightly squeezes around the blade of the knife. Eventually, her breathing rate increases as she's breathing uncontrollably. The sharp blade is drawing more blood as her grip tightens. She can barely see what she's done through her teary vision, and as she takes in the sight of the living room, she realizes that it's completely destroyed. Her feet begin to take small steps towards the front door, but the overpowering sense of fear creep over her body and force her to abruptly stop walking.

Vibrations of sobs swell within her body, and she falls to her knees. Her dress and her face are covered in blood; either belonging to her or the man lying down across the room. She's out of breath. She wants to run, but her body is ready to give up. She wants to hide, but she's over it…she's over everything. The woman is ready to throw the towel in and wave her metaphorical white flag. The knife cuts her hand deeper to the point where it starts to leak blood, and she feels nothing. The adrenaline pumping through her petite frame masks the pain.

The sound of sirens draw in closer and immediately she realizes that it's over. She's done. Her life, everything…it's over. Through the opened window, she could see few officers surrounding the house. She wants to make a run for it, but she knows that it'll be a fruitless effort. The front door breaks off the hinges as officers' raid in. She's hiccupping tears as they surround her, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it!" Her head is low and she avoids eye contacts as her wails fill the house.

Shouts of orders and commands overwhelm her as their drawn weapons aim at her body. When she tries to look up, she sees the dark barrel of the gun, "No." She can see the red laser from different guns aim towards different parts of her body, "I can explain!" She wants to stand up, but the moment she makes an attempt to rise to her feet, they shoot a warning shot towards the roof, "Drop the knife! Stand up, with your hands in the air, turn around and back your way towards us slowly!"

Before the woman could oblige, she sees the town's paramedics' race in. They share a sympathetic look with her as they race over to the body, "Is he dead?" The woman starts to panic as she watches them check his pulse, "Please don't tell me he's dead!" CPR is immediately applied and the cops are a forgotten occurrence. She forgets their presence as she hopes and prays that the man is still breathing. The paramedic checked his pulse again, and within seconds, the paramedics place the dying man onto a gurney and rush him out of the house. That's always a good sign. If he were dead, he would be left, and the coroner would have to come pick him up.

Her stomach relaxes, but immediately tightens up again. The guns were still drawn. She begins breathing heavily as another warning shot flies past her head, "Next time, we won't miss! Now drop the knife!" She does as she's told. The knife falls to the ground and drops of blood from her hand follows. Her hands fly into the air, "I want to speak to my lawyer!" The blood from her injured hand begins gushing out of the wound and slowly dripping down her arm, "I need to speak to my lawyer! Please! I can explain!" Her eyes plead with the three officers surrounding her.

An officer step forward, handcuffs in hand. He holsters his weapon, as he pulls her arms behind her back, "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say-"

"Wait!" His partner shouts, interrupting the Miranda rights process, "Wait."

The officer locks one of her wrists in the handcuff, "What?" He continues to hold her free arm.

"We have to follow orders. She has rights that we have to read. Let me finish."

The woman starts to cry harder, "Wait! I can't be arrested! No-"

"We have orders to shoot to kill." The older officer reminds his fellow co-workers. The three officers in the living room surround the woman as she sobs quietly. The arresting officer unhooks her handcuff, "I'm sorry, but they're right."

"Who ordered that? Wait!" She extends her good hand, as her injured hand remained resting against her chest, "Please, let me explain myself! I can tell you what happened to Royce Sr. I can tell you everything. I can give you money. I won't say anything…just let me leave!"

Each officer aims their weapon, and brushes their finger over the trigger, "No can do."

"Please," she looks up and notices the barrel of the gun aimed at the space between her eyebrows, "Please don't do this." She closes her eyes and begins reciting a prayer.

"Just breathe, and count to three," another officer kindly instructs, "it'll all be over soon."

-Tiffany.