ABIGAIL

The door jars open wide as my right leg flicks my heel to and fro above the ground. Flashes of light burst against my face, almost blinding me. I extend my hand, waiting for another to clasp it and guide me down. With a light jump, I step out of the car just as the door shuts behind me. Four men in black close ranks around me, like a living barricade.

Though they form a wall, the relentless flashes still pierce through, taunting me.

As they move, I move with them, my gaze sharp, as reporters shove recorders, microphones, and their cheap plastic phones through the gaps, desperate for...