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A lump in the back of her throat made it hard to breathe. Tears burning in the corners of her eyes made it hard to see.
It couldn't be true.
She could vaguely hear the officer in front of her talking, but it was difficult because of the ringing in her ears.
"I-"
"Ma'am?"
Her chest jumped and her breath hitched. She couldn't breathe.
The world warped around her while sounds became muffled and dark. She couldn't breathe.
"No."
She could feel her knees give way. She could feel the harsh, cracking, crash of her knees against the hardwood floor.
She could feel the scratch of a scream against the back of her throat. She couldn't hear it. She couldn't breathe.
She didn't know how much time had passed, tears streaming down her face, screaming, her front door open, and a New York Police Officer standing on her doorstep. Time was irrelevant, it didn't matter, because she couldn't breathe.
Finally she stopped screaming. Finally the tears slowed. Finally she stood up, not caring about the damage to her nylons.
She felt like a robot, being controlled by someone else, but she grabbed her coat, and she grabbed her purse.
She looked the Officer in the eye, not caring about how disheveled she must appear, not caring at all.
"Take me to them."
She wasn't even sure how the man had heard her, but he nodded and immediately stepped back, and gestured to his vehicle.
Taking her sunglasses from the little pocket on the side of her bag, she stepped out of the house, and closed the door firmly behind her.
She gave the officer another look, and he hurried down the few steps and opened the passenger side door.
She slid her sunglasses on, not caring that it was eleven at night: not caring about anything else but proving the Officer wrong.
It couldn't be true. It couldn't be who he said it was. She couldn't breathe.
She didn't know if she'd ever be able to breathe again.