Day and night were indistinguishable; hours were bunched together and blurred, punctuated with catnaps and the occasional intake of flavourless food that tasted wooden in her mouth. Words were somehow distorted, colours muted and sound muffled. She felt something akin to weightlessness. Of the throng of people that peered in her direction, only Lydia and Dominic stood out, distinct and recognisable. Their faces pinched through grief, expressions blank, numbed by their ordeal.As she listened to the droning voices dissecting and analysing the most minute aspects of her life, it felt as if they were talking about a stranger. She felt disconnected from the proceedings, unable to fully grasp the process. People she recognised sometimes stood in the dock; she was vaguely aware of Judith sneering at her as she placed her fat hand on a Bible.To Kathryn, the facts were straightforward. Mark had hurt her for a long time and one day, under extreme provocation, she had enough and killed him. No more, no less.
