Amelia Jane Foster could hear her heart beat against her chest as she made her way up to the Witness Box of the courtroom. Thud, thud.
Her best friend, Iris, stood on the platform across from her. Iris, with her soft brown hair and green eyes. Iris, with her billowing laugh and sweet voice.
Iris, with her secrets and shadows.
Iris, who was charged with cold blooded, first degree murder.
Amelia couldn’t believe that Iris could do such a thing. She refused to believe it. She didn’t believe it. But she was there when it happened. She had seen it. She knew. And she had cold, hard evidence. Evidence that proved that Iris was the murderer, evidence that she would be forced to use against her best friend of more than a decade. She was the evidence. Because she was there. She had seen it. Thud, thud.
She hated herself for it.
She didn’t have a choice.
It was either her or Iris.
And she’d rather push her best friend of more than a decade in the line of fire than rightfully accept the blame of the murder she had committed.