The Kiss of Death

Eleanor gestured inside with a slight nod. "You should go and change your clothes."

Wiping away my tears, I went to my room and changed into a black dress with a black jacket over it. There are plenty of black clothes in my wardrobe, and black seemed to match the tone of my life over the past few years.

When I came out, Eleanor was leading several officers as they examined and photographed my home. Meanwhile, I glanced around blankly, looking dazed and grief-stricken.

She pointed to the long row of medicine bottles on top of the dresser. "Whose medication is this?"

"The ones on the left are mine. The ones on the right belong to my husband."

She leaned in to take a closer look. "Carbamazepine… Do you have bipolar disorder?"

"Something like that," I replied weakly.

"How long has it been?"

"Three years. My mother-in-law's sister is a doctor. Every two or three months, my husband would take me to see her. The medical records are in the drawer below."

She pulled out a thick stack of my medical records from the drawer and handed them to her assistant. Meanwhile, my husband's side held various types of vitamins.

There was also a small white plastic bottle in the middle with its label torn off. Eleanor, now wearing gloves, unscrewed the cap and found it half-filled with small white pills.

"Whose is this?"

I glanced at the bottle in her hand.

"Mine," I said, pausing before explaining, "Last week, I spilled some makeup remover on it, which ruined the label, so I tore it off."

My makeup was stored on the same dresser, close to the row of medicine bottles. The bottle of makeup remover was nearly full and barely used.

She placed the entire row of bottles into a clear evidence bag, and the unlabeled white plastic bottle was sealed separately in its own bag.

Eleanor scanned the room one more time before turning back to me. "Do you sleep in the guest bedroom?"

I nervously tugged at my hair and answered quietly, "Yes, my husband said I snore in my sleep. He usually has to wake up early for work, which can be disruptive.

After finishing the photographs, we left the house together. I was then brought to an interrogation room, where cameras were everywhere.

Sitting at the table, I let my thoughts wander back to the early days of my relationship with Chester. Overcome with sadness, I rested my head on the table and quietly sobbed.

A long time passed before Eleanor returned, and her expression was unusually stern.

"Did your husband have trouble sleeping or a habit of taking sleeping pills?"

I shook my head while fidgeting nervously with my fingers, "No, he didn't."

She forcefully pulled out a chair, slammed the small white bottle onto the table, and then produced a pair of handcuffs.

With a sharp click, she fastened them around my wrists.