“Do you, uh, want some water or something?” she asks him.
“No. Thank you, though.”
She settles onto one of the seats in the awkwardly laid out space. Her breath catches, and even this far away, I can tell she’s trying to steady herself.
She’s nervous, for obvious reasons.
“I’d like to talk about what happened the other night, if that’s okay?” The officer has a friendly, casual tone, despite the gravity of the situation.
“Sure.”
I concentrate hard on sending Claire all of my strength to get her through this conversation. I’m sure it’s meaningless, but it’s the best I can do given the circumstances.
“Can you walk me through the events?” He clicks a pen and waits for her response.
"I was heading to my place when Griffin showed up out of nowhere.”
“And this Griffin, how do you two know each other?”
“We dated, for a while, back home. But we recently broke up.”
“I see…so you weren’t aware of his visit?”
“No, not at all. It was a shock, really.”
“What happened next?”
“Um, he…” Claire’s voice trails off as she recalls the traumatic experience.
“Miss Cooper, I understand these types of things can be difficult to discuss.” His words are followed by the sound of a shuffling of paper. “I’d like to show you something.”
She must be looking the document over because there’s nothing but silence.
Finally, she says, “I had no idea.”
“But tell me, does this surprise you?”
She sighs. “No.”
“This man has a history of violence littering his past. You weren’t his first victim, but my hope is that you’re his last. And with your help, I might be able to make that happen.”
Rage builds inside of me at the idea of how much time Claire had spent under Griffin’s thumb. It’s a miracle he hadn’t done something much worse.
“What do you mean, my help?” Claire seems confused.
“Your statement of what transpired. The state would like to build a case to prosecute Mr. Thomas.” The officer adds, “You’re not in trouble for defending yourself, Miss Cooper.”
Only, it wasn’t Claire that shoved Griffin down the stairs, it was me. I’m the one who should be being questioned right now, not her. Claire’s hands are clean, and I’m sitting in here letting her take the heat for something she didn’t do.
Her voice cracks. “He, um…he grabbed me. He was really mad. Madder than I’ve ever seen him. He just kept…shaking me.” She lets out a breath. “He had been drinking, I could smell it on him.”
The officer mumbles something of an acknowledgment for her to continue.
“He kept guiding me toward the steps, just out there.”
I imagine her pointing toward the spot outside her door.
“His fingers—he gripped my arms tighter and tighter until we were right on the edge. I begged him to let me go, I really did.” She remains calm, despite the storm I know is raging inside of her. “It all happened so fast…one second he was screaming at me, the next he was tumbling down the stairs. I think he slipped or something. He must have misjudged his footing. I ran down after him and called for help immediately.”