A Harper's Worth

"I said, did you steal the other glass slipper?"
I stopped sweeping the floor and clasped the handle of the broom tightly with my hand. I was too frozen on the spot to move.
"I—"
"Stop!" Chris slammed his hand on the wooden table, making me jump. "I asked you a question, damn you. Don't pretend like you're that stupid to avoid it. You're not as pitiful as that clown you fake with your friends." He took a few steps forward, his face a breathless mask of anger. "ANSWER ME!"
I had prepared a lot of times for this moment. There were a lot of reasons—a lot of words—to explain my motive, but being in the present only made me realize how reality made them useless. For all my good intentions, I had nothing truthful to say. The truth would only make it worse. So I went with the only thing that came close to it.
"Yes."