“When I took your case, I thought you were innocent, her attorney said.  You said you were innocent and I believed you.  But do you want to know what I think now?”
    She looked at him, waiting to hear what his answer would be.
    “It looks to me like you’re guilty of killing Patrick Devon.  You’ve heard all the evidence.  What does it look like to you?”
    “It looks to me like I’m guilty, too.  Do you think I really could be guilty?” she replied.

    The incredulous look on the attorney's face told her that that was not the answer he had expected.
    “What is going on here?” he asked.
    “Truthfully, I don’t know what’s going on.” 
    “Are you telling me that you don’t know if you killed Patrick?”
    “I don’t have any memory of killing him.”
    He came and sat down next to her, scrutinizing her as if he had telepathic powers.  Then, slowly, the skepticism seemed to drain from his face.  
    Sage got up from her chair and walked over to a window that looked out onto the front patio of the courthouse where Dara was being tried for Patrick's murder.  Her attorney came and stood behind her.
    “People are walking up and down the street looking perfectly normal,” she said.  “I bet at least half of them are screwed up.  People are experts at hiding things.  Secret infidelities, physical pain, mental torture, heads that feel heavy as rocks, adrenalin flowing through their veins.  They just go on acting as if they were perfectly normal.  And that can become exhausting.”
    She took in a deep breath, looking out the window as she spoke.  “Doctors are kind enough to give me painkillers for the intractable pain I’ve been covering up from everyone.  And sleeping pills as well.  I always think that after a good night’s sleep everything will be okay.  But, lately, it never is.

     I do something one day, and then the next day I can’t remember what I did the day before.  It seems I’ve been living a straight up and down lie.  I’m not one of the normal people walking down the street.  I’m one of the others.”