دانلود رمان انگلیسی “خواهر خاموش”

Everything was too bright. Too Loud. The police cruiser’s lights bathed the backseat in flashing blues and reds. The crackling disembodied voices coming from the officers, combined with the voices of the other officers on the scene and members of the media shouting questions, were like a million insects buzzing in my ears. The harsh smell of disinfectant didn’t quite mask the pungent smell of urine and vomit. The handcuffs were too tight and cut into my thin wrists. The officer hadn’t been gentle and my shoulders ached from where my arms had been yanked up behind my back, and my left cheek was sore from being pressed into the carpet as I was being cuffed. Dizziness made me lie my head back against the seat as sweat trickled down my back. I needed to get out because I was trapped… again. For a week I’d desperately wanted out of that house. But not like this. Because I still wasn’t free, and wondered if I ever would be. Once I was at the station, I was searched, fingerprinted, photographed and my bloody clothes were taken into evidence. I was given a clean pair of bright orange jailhouse scrubs, socks, and matching canvas slip-on shoes to wear. They brought me into an interrogation room and an older black woman stood up as I entered. I immediately recognized her as the detective who came to my house asking questions about the day my husband died. What had her name been? Her lanyard identified her as Detective Laurel King. King gestured for one of the officers to uncuff me. After which I sat down at the table and rubbed my sore wrists. King sat opposite me. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was high-pitched and breathy. Instead of responding, she read me my Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…” As I listened to her in disbelief, there were questions flashing in my head like blinking neon signs. How did this happen? Why was I under arrest? I was the victim here. Wasn’t I?