The police station wasn't what either of them expected. It wasn't loud or messy like the movies. It was… quiet. Too quiet.
Or maybe it was just because they came here as witnesses, not criminals.
Terrence and Effie sat on a metal bench.
Boring gray walls surrounded them, and a vending machine hummed in the corner filled with colas.
Few officers in uniform passed by now and then, most of them not even looking their way.
A clock ticked above the front desk, slow and steady, making the wait feel longer than it was.
Effie leaned back in her seat. Her knee bounced while her fingers tugged at the edge of her sleeve.
At least they got a chance to change clothes before coming here. They picked a jacket since it was already late.
While waiting, she stayed silent. So did he. Neither of them brought up the kiss that happened between them in the heat of the moment.
They had bigger things to deal with than feelings
Eventually, a female officer walked over with a clipboard. Her uniform was neat, and she looked tired.
She skimmed the page. "Effie Crawford?"
The officer used her maiden name. She was married, but chose not to change her last name.
Effie stood slowly. "That's me."
Terrence gave her a small nod, and she followed the officer through a hallway.
'To think that my uncle was hiding something like that…' He leaned forward after she left, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped .
His mind kept flashing back to what happened—Tyler's rage, the fight, the video, the screaming.
It wasn't just a bad night. It changed everything.
Just thinking about it made him feel sick and disgusted. If they weren't family, he might have done worse than just knocking him down.
He had seen plenty of evil in his life, but some kinds were simply unforgivable.
A different officer showed up ten minutes later.
This one was a tall man in his forties with a trimmed beard and a serious look. "Terrence Marshal?"
"Yes," he stood and followed.
The room was small . One table. Two chairs. A camera in the top corner of the wall, blinking red.
There was a recorder on the table, already running.
"Have a seat,"
Terrence nodded, and the officer sat across from him and opened a folder. "Alright. This is just a formal statement. Tell me everything you remember—from the start."
"It started outside. Uncle Tyler was yelling, saying Aunt Effie ruined his life. He seemed off—like he wasn't himself. I tried to calm him down, but he didn't listen. He just got angrier."
"You responded with force?"
"I didn't want to do it. But he kept hurting his wife and wouldn't calm down. I had to choke him out—just enough to knock him out. I just didn't want the neighbors calling the cops over some fight without knowing what was really going on."
The officer made a few notes. "What did you do after that?"
"I dragged him back inside. Aunt Effie came with me. She looked shaken, so I gave her some water. Then I put uncle Tyler down on the sofa and asked her what was going on."
"Did she answer?"
"Yeah, that's when I saw the video."
The questioning went on for a while. Terrence answered every question as honestly as he could.
He knew they were just trying to piece together what really happened. It wasn't like they were being treated like criminals.
Luckily, the police also took the CCTV footage from outside the house.
That video could back up everything. It showed the fight, his uncle outburst, and the domestic violence that happened.
Besides that, the evidence they found on his uncle's laptop was enough to prosecute him.
"That's it. Your story matches her. You two are free to go. As for your uncle, he will be facing multiple charges." The officer paused. "Kid, you did the right thing. You don't have to feel guilty."
'Guilty? Why would I be guilty?'
He was actually relieved knowing his uncle would be behind bars.
There was no excuse for what he did—not during peaceful times like this.
He had everything: money, a good career, a stable life, a loving and caring wife.
And still, he chose that path. He was worse than the people who lost control during the apocalypse. At least they had a reason.
After it was over, Terrence stepped out into the station lobby.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. He spotted Effie sitting on one of the chairs near the wall, arms wrapped around herself.
Her eyes were red. She didn't look up right away, but he could tell—she broke down during the interrogation.
And who wouldn't?
Her own husband was going to be charged and taken away for a long time. Even if she hated what he did, that kind of weight didn't disappear just because justice was served.
She wiped her face and glanced up as he approached.
"You okay?" he asked, sitting beside her.
She gave a small nod, though it wasn't convincing.
"They asked a lot," she said quietly. "Kept going back over things. Wanted to make sure I wasn't hiding anything."
Terrence leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "Same here. They're just being thorough."
"I know…But it still hurt. Saying it all out loud."
He didn't press. Just sat with her, letting the silence do the work for a minute.
"I keep thinking about what he said," she admitted. "About how we used him. How we betrayed him."
Terrence looked at her. "We didn't betray him. He did that to himself."