She sat on the cold, cement floor. Three walls made of cinder blocks surrounded her, the fourth made of glass. She glared at the officer who sat in front of her cell. "Can you loosen my jacket? It makes me feel like a prisoner in my own home!" She yelled. Then she let out a giggle followed my a snort.
"You are a prisoner you idiot." The officer said as he tightened her straight jacket. "You wanna tell me how you got here anyway?"
"Heh. Well lookie here! He wants to know how I ended up in the slammer, huh?" She asked. "Well should we tell em, or should he go turn on a damn television!"
"I want to hear it from the murderer herself. Besides the news castors always water the story down. Tell me all the juicy details!" He said with a smirk.
"Alright. Loosen my stylish jacket and you'll hear it all! Might wanna take out a recorder while you're at it pal." She said with a wink.
The young, naive man got into her cell, locked the door, and loosened her jacket slightly. "Whats your name? I've never gotten the chance to ask anyone."
"It's Abigail, but please call me Abby. Whats yours?"
"Jake." He said smiling.
Jake took a seat across from Abby. They both sat on the ground, and Jake was sharing his lunch, a blueberry muffin, with Abby.
"So, it all began on November 30, 1992."
