Maybe I'm a Lion

The death surrounding Steven Greene were still as of yet a mystery. His body had been found with a gaping whole in his chest. He was the first victim that night, and Cornelia had been the only witness. It was the only murder to which Cornelia didn't take the blame for. She continuously repeated a fellow student responsible; a student whose name was never filed in any of the school's records. However, just a few hours into interrogation she changed her story.

To her interrogators all that had occurred that night remained a mystery. A padlocked secret kept hidden to all those absent from the event. The only key being a simple girl whose fragile state of mind prevented any truth. To Cornelia, that night was nothing but a living nightmare that still continued to haunt her every time she closed her eyes. The events of the night were so ingrained in her mind she was forced to relive every second of it with detailed precision. However, the most crucial part of that night - Sarabi's actions - had yet to escape her lips.

Cornelia couldn't understand why. If it was fear of what Sarabi would do in retaliation, she didn't know. She had mentioned Sarabi just once that night, but according to the countless psychologists; Sarabi had never existed. A student like that never attended Ascalon. So they came to the conclusion that perhaps, just maybe, she had created Sarabi in her mind. That Sarabi was a way to escape the many responsibilities instilled in such a fragile girl. Maybe, on the night of the prom, Cornelia and Sarabi had become one, and in a moment of lunacy and utter frustration, had so heartlessly slayed her fellow students and set the Hall of Ithaca ablaze.

This was told to Cornelia so many times; over and over again, repeated to her as the only explanation for her being the only survivor of the incident while her friends lay dead. After being told this explanation repeatedly Cornelia had began to believe it. So when it came time to the initial interrogation, after her psyche evaluations, she had a firm belief that she had killed everyone - much to the chagrin of the steadily maddening Riley. That all that had happened that night was nothing but a dream, created to rid herself of reality.

So here were these people before her, asking to hear what they wanted; that she was innocent, that her horrible dream was real. She knew in her heart, that anyone could loose their mind. Especially one with so much stress in their life. But if they wanted to hear about her dream, then she was more than happy to comply.

"Then? What exactly are you waiting for?" Asked an impatient Riley who just wanted to get home knowing that an innocent girl didn't have to suffer. Now nervous, the other interrogator's cool demeanor began to fade as he leaned closer to the table where the girl was just about to begin her story.

"Well, I guess it started. . . ." Cornelia paused trying to remember how exactly her dream began, or when she even fell asleep. "With this girl. She was new -"

"That's enough for tonight!" quickly interjected the other interrogator slamming frantic palms onto the metal of the table. A shocked Riley could only stare. This was the only breakthrough they could possibly get, yet this man was so willing to throw it away. It was here that he began to question his superior's motives in pairing him with such a useless officer. "She's tired, lets let her have a nights rest to refresh her memory." he suggested.

It did seem like good sense. Cornelia hadn't been allowed sleep in two days. Obviously the weariness would deter her reasoning, so Riley had no choice to comply with his partner's wishes and allow Cornelia to be taken away to her holding cell.

Riley wouldn't sleep that night. He would have to get some coffee and try to figure out more about the case before he could once again approach Cornelia. The more he looked at the files, the less sense it made.

The only weapon found after the murders couldn't have possibly been the weapon used for all the murders. It contained many of Cornelia's finger prints - along with all the other students who had played with it - thus dooming the only survivor to be a primary suspect, however, to Riley, Cornelia didn't fit the profile of someone who would just hack away at her classmates. It just didn't make sense. Though an axe was the only weapon seized on the site, there were many other dead whose wounds came from unknown means.

The media wouldn't see the other causes of death as mysterious as Riley did, and he knew this. He would need much, much more to free Cornelia. Putting all the papers down, Riley stared out the window of his office. The sun was coming up, and soon he would have to meet Cornelia one last time before her trial. Sighing, he stood up and got more coffee.

In the holding cell, Cornelia hardly had a good night's sleep as her prom night was relived once again as a dream. Her hand began to ache with renewed pain each time she relieved that dream. A terrible nightmare, but a dream none the less. A dream of lies.