Tom:
Did you call the police?
Emma:
He trashed my phone.
Tom:
Okay, we got time to get our story straight.
Emma:
What story? He killed himself.
Tom:
You wash your face?
Emma:
Yeah, I rinsed my dead husband's blood and brains off. Why? Do you think that I did this?
Tom:
Of course not, but a cop is going to ask you that question.
Emma:
Okay, so let a cop ask that question. I'll tell the fucking truth.
Tom:
You gotta understand, the truth is not necessarily your friend right now. Trust me, I do this for a living.
Emma:
So what do I do? I lie to the police?
Tom:
No, we manage the truth. This doesn't look good for either of us.
Emma:
I don't give a shit about looking good right now!
Tom:
You gave a shit five minutes ago when you washed the evidence off your face!
Emma:
Call the fucking police!
Tom:
Listen...
Emma:
Have you stopped to think about why Mark sent you that message? Because I woke up handcuffed to my dead husband whose carcass I have been dragging around the entire house. He siphoned all of the gas out of the car. He thought to remove every sharp object. I have been chained to this nightmare all day. Do you really think that he sent you that text so you could come here and you could *save* me? Call the police!
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05/03/2025 alle ore 09:38
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