“Guilty!” the judge declares.
I lose all feeling in my legs.
My sister helps me up, and I watch, through tears, the bailiff handcuff Michael and guide him to the door left of the defendant’s bench.
He doesn’t take one glace back at me.
“This can’t be happening,” I say breathlessly. “I can’t let him go to prison for something I did.”
“Shut up!” she snaps. “What’s done is done. Let’s go.”
But I can’t move. Because the man in my freezer isn’t the first. And with Michael locked away, what will happen to me when the next one dies?
© Nortina Simmons