Red RumA Story by Brinleigh BaileyMicky Abbott must choose between admitting to a crime she didn't commit, or running from those who believe she did.This is what I remember. May 15, 2015 There was a knock on the door. "Margaret Abbott?" More banging. I sat up in bed, mumbling to myself. "Margaret Abbott? LAPD." I rolled off the bed, stumbling to my feet. "Coming," I croaked, turning the corner out of my bedroom. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I walked directly into the coffee table, stubbing my toe on the wooden edge. "Damn it," I mumbled, hopping on one leg as I cradled my foot. More banging on the door. "Alright, alright!" I limped over to the front door, tucking my bedhead behind my ears before flinging the front door open. "What's this about? It's like three in the morning-" Two guns were clocked simultaneously before being shoved in my face. "Margaret Abbott. We have reason to believe you are guilty of the murder of Peter Crowell. You have the right to remain silent," the first officer grabbed my wrist, jerking me towards him and slapping a cuff on my arm. "If you do decide to say anything, it can and will be used against you in a court of law." The second cuff. "You have the right to a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire." The sudden pull towards the police car snapped me out of shock. "Wait-What? What are you talking about? Murder of who? I don't even know a Peter! Hey! Get your hands off me!" The officer flung open the door to the police car, shoving me in. I braced myself on the side, resisting. "Please," I begged. "Tell me what's happening." The officer, whose nametag read Will, narrowed his eyes. "You're being convicted of first degree murder." The day before...
© 2015 Brinleigh BaileyAuthor's Note
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Added on June 6, 2015Last Updated on June 6, 2015 Tags: police, conviction, guilty, innocent Author
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