Confessions of a Victim

That took Brody back, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable in this dark room, where moonlight shone dimly through the cell bar windows. In fact, he was beginning to struggle to comprehend how he had gotten to the station; he didn’t remember walking in. Maybe he was just so nervous he was forgetting things. He was tired, though, and felt lightheaded, as if he were recovering from a rough night of drinking.

He started shivering again. Judy pushed the coffee toward him. "Maybe you should drink this, it'll help warm you. He did as he was bid, and took hold of the cup with both hands, and sipped it. 'Damn, that tastes pretty good, actually' he thought. "Feel a little better now?" Judy said, smiling. Brody nodded, so Judy pressed on. "Tell me, why did you like to bully--or liked to watch people bully--him?"

"I dunno, like, it made me feel strong, like, I guess."

"How did you feel when you saw him with that machete and handgun?"

"Pretty darn scared, I guess." Brody began to shake uncontrollably, slightly going into a panic attack, something he had never experienced before.

"Hush now, drink some more coffee," said Judy, and he did. His nerves calmed a little. "Tell me about the massacre, if you can, please."

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