Not long after the nurse left, the officer made his way into my room. As he opened the door, I caught an awkward smile on his face, which briefly set me at ease. That feeling was swiftly replaced with a sinking feeling in my gut when he opened his mouth. "Good day, ma'am," he uttered with a regretful tone, "I'm Sheriff Charles Stark and I, erm, I hate to start introductions this way, but I have to read you your rights."
As he rattled off the miranda warning - rather melodically I might add - I fell deeper into an already abysmal malaise. Since waking only minutes earlier, my world had been turned upside down and relief seemed no where in sight. I could feel myself lethargically drifting away as his words began to jumble into nonsensical chatter. That is until a brief silence was interrupted by a surprisingly strident statement. "MA'AM, do you understand your rights?"
"Yes I do," I added, "But can you please explain what the hell is going on?!" He quickly replied, "I'll ask the questions from here on out, thank you." Without missing a beat, his inquiry began. "What is the last thing you remember, Ms. Blayne?", he inquired. 'You reading me my rights", I chimed in.
"Do you think this is a game, Ms. Blayne?", he retaliated, "because I can go ahead and tell you this is serious business. At that point, I knew I was just going to have to play his game in order to get any further information. I'd seen these types of scenes play out on television, but never expected in my life to be immersed in such an intense moment.
"Sir, I mean, Sheriff", I acknowledged, "I apologize, but I don't remember anything and I don't know why I am here." As he looked at his notepad, pondering what to say next, visions began to run through my head. Did I fall asleep at the wheel and cause a car accident? Did I leave the gas on and blow up my apartment complex?
As my thoughts continued to churn, the Sheriff finally broke his silence. "Ma'am, lets just cut to the chase," he uttered, "you sustained your injuries in a single car accident, in which you ran off the road and hit a tree." While frightening to discover the root of my pain, I was relieved to hear the words single car accident. "Was anyone else injured in the wreck?", I inquired.
"No one else was injured in the accident", he added, "but, erm, that does not explain the blood soaked trunk of your car." "Blood soaked trunk," I inquired? "Ms. Blayne," he acknowledged, "you are under arrest for the murder of Jacob Stone."