“What did you see?”

When would she stop asking me this? Claire thought, irritated. She’d been interviewed multiple times and she’d told the truth at the beginning. She hadn’t changed her answers because nothing had changed. No matter how hard the policewoman would force her to think, she could not and would not remember anything else. She’d told her what she’d seen; she saw her husband. The last time she saw her husband.

“He got out of the car, went round the corner and then I heard a bang. Three.” She repeated. “I rushed outside, and Yongguk was on the floor, face down. I remember seeing two other people on the ground but I couldn’t concentrate on them because my husband was on the floor. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Nothing else was important other than making sure my husband was alright. Which he wasn’t. He was dead.” Claire’s eyes didn’t tear up; she’d cried more than she’d ever cried in her lifetime since the accident, but after the funeral a few weeks ago it was as if the switch had been turned off and no tears would fall. She hadn’t cried since her husband was buried. It was as if her tears were buried with him.

Nothing was worth crying for anymore. Nothing would hurt as much as losing Yongguk did. She didn’t cry, but she had nightmares every night. The bang replayed itself in her head continuously. Her stomach tightened every time it was mentioned or and her face set in place like concrete. And it hurt. Everything hurt. She just didn’t show it.

She didn’t want to let anyone into her emotions. They were hers.

“Is that all you saw?” The policewoman pressed on. Claire sighed.

“Yes, all I saw, as I have said the past twenty times.”

The policewoman nodded. “I know this interview process is difficult, Claire, but it’s something we have to do. We need to find out as much as we can about the shooting, and anything, absolutely anything, that you remember, any miniscule detail, could help to piece together what happened that night. Everyone has to go through this, every witness, it’s just what we have to do.”
Claire nodded. “I know.”
“Have you spoken to the families of the other people that were killed?” She asked gently.

Claire shook her head. “No. Their funerals were before Yongguk’s. I would’ve gone but I was too absorbed in my own grief and getting the funeral sorted, I couldn’t focus on anybody else’s death, as bad as that sounds.”

“That’s understandable. Maybe meeting with the people who were with Minah and Jimin, the other victims, would help you? Just talking about it could help you with your grief or piece together what happened. In crimes like this the widows or widowers or friends and family often find meeting others suffering the same thing that they are beneficial.”

Claire frowned. She was fine, thank you very much. She wasn’t healed, she doubted she ever would be, but she didn’t think that meeting the others who had been affected by this like she was and reliving the traumas of that night was ‘beneficial’. She’d have to relive is again. She relived it every day in her head, and that was enough. Why would talking to someone about it make her feel better?

“No thanks.”

“Do you want their numbers so you can contact them if you ever feel you want to?”

“No.”

“Ok, that’s fine.” The policewoman sighed. Her methods weren’t working with Claire. “Interview ended at 1:17pm.” The button clicked and the policewoman stood.

“Thank you for your time, Claire.”

Claire shook her hand. “Bye.” She walked out of the door and out of the station briskly. She was always relieved to get out but she always knew in the pit of her stomach she’d be back soon enough to do it all again.