All of it. None of it was true. She lived in a three bedroom suburban house with a husband called Charles and a blonde headed daughter with dimples. C...cily wasn't a spy! She'd never been to a war zone. She was a psychologist like it said on the door. She was a fake and a plant and it was a test: an interview. Everything about her was an invention.That's what he told himself as he pushed her against the tree and scooped up the hammer, and immediately he saw the terror in her eyes and knew he was. I’m not sure how I spent the next two hours. Perhaps I entered my own little fugue state. Then suddenly, I felt a new bolt of fear shoot through me. I was terrified for Chris. I had an image of Chris with a gun in his hand and grabbed my cell phone and again went to voice mail. I tried not to let my fear show in my voice, but I couldn’t help it. I was sobbing and begging Chris. I was trying to make him understand that what I’d done, what I was, didn’t change who he was. Finally, I said. More

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