She fell asleep as soon as she got into the van. Her dreams were filled with screaming and smoke and him. She woke up suddenly, a cold sweat coating the back of her neck. She traced her fingers up and down her tattoo, it was a nervous/uncomfortable gesture she made often. She checked under her eyes for makeup, nothing. Guess I didn't cry this time she thought, faking enthusiasm, intentionally lying to herself. It was easier to fake it if you believed what you were faking was true. No matter what they said, I didn't start that fire, I didn't kill him. The van stopped.
(sorry for the triple post, I wanted to get the transport out of the way, so I could, well, get it over with lol)