Chapter 2 - The Interrogation
An hour later, the ER room was quiet. My leg was in a temporary cast, and my shoulder had been painfully, but securely, popped back into its socket.
A woman in a sharp gray pantsuit walked in. Her badge read Detective Miller, Special Victims Unit. Alongside her was a CPS caseworker named Elena.
"Clara," Detective Miller said gently, pulling up a chair. "I know you're in pain. But I need you to tell me exactly what happened tonight. And I need to know about your jaw."
The dam broke.
I told them everything. I told them about the New York writing fellowship, and how Vanessa had found the letter. I described the look in my sister’s eyes when she grabbed my sweater and hurled me toward the stairs.
Then, Elena asked the question I had dreaded. "Your parents said Vanessa is just 'passionate' and that she has a temper. Has this temper put you in the hospital before?"
"No," I whispered. "Because they never took me to the hospital."
I told them about the jaw fracture when I was thirteen. Vanessa had hit me in the face with a heavy hardback textbook because I wouldn't do her geometry homework. My jaw had swollen to the size of a grapefruit. My parents had told me to put ice on it and forced me to wear a scarf for two weeks, claiming I had a severe tooth infection. They refused to take me to the dentist for fear the X-rays would show the trauma.
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Detective Miller stopped writing. She looked at Elena. A silent, grim communication passed between them.
"Clara," Detective Miller said, her voice thick with suppressed anger. "You are not going back to that house tonight. Or ever again, if I have anything to say about it."
