My hands will not stop shaking.

I sit in the cold silver chair at the police station and I press my palms down on my thighs to try and make them still, but it's not working.

Everything inside me feels like it is vibrating with a scared, angry energy.

Zara sits next to me. She hasn’t said a word for the last five minutes. Something about her face makes me want to laugh.

She just keeps looking from my face to the busy police officers walking around, and then back to my face.

I ...