Claire had never meant for the knowledge to slip out but truth had a funny way of revealing itself and by its character it was never at the ideal time. The suspect papers fluttered like strange rabbit ears around the bed, on the bed, on the pillows, on the bedside cedar cabinet, on the single chair she had propped against the door as a barricade. And in the unrest of all that chittering, gossiping paper, she yelled it out for fear holding the truth inside would break her. Solemnly, with her eyes closed, she yelled it out. Truth, from a whisper to a scream.

I DID IT!

She dared not wait for the barricade to be made asunder or the violent footfalls that would storm the staircase up to her floor. Without a second thought, she made for the window and with her body as a projectile, flesh and fear, she crashed through the curtains and glass and fell to the street below.