After dropping the photo on the ground in complete and utter disbelief, I couldn't help but collapse onto the ground.

"What the actual fuck is going on here?" I whispered to myself. I had no time to keep processing the shocking discovery I had just come across as I could hear "Lauren" coming down the basement stairs. Standing up as quick as I could I immediately headed towards her. This devil took MY wife away from me and was trying to steal MY wife's life? Oh hell no!

I got to the bottom of the stairs just before Hannah the succubus did and I couldn't contain the rage pumping through every copper wire in my being.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" I wailed at the absolute top of my lungs, shaking my vocal cords. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO WITH LAUREN?" This put a look of complete disbelief on her face. It actually seemed pretty genuine but I knew what type of game she was playing. There was no chance I was going to fall for it, there needed to be justice and revenge for Lauren.

"I know who you are you psychopath! You think you can get away with this shit?" Before I knew it I was grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her violently.

"Mark what the hell are you doing? What are you talking about?" Hannah was fighting back, yet still trying to maintain her innocence. "Babe get off me why are y-." Her plea was cut short due to the state of both my hands clasping as tight as I could around her throat.

"You stupid bitch, coming into my life and fucking it up. Huh? Nothing to say now huh?" I continued to squeeze for the next 10 to 15 seconds at the same intensity, staring as deep as I could into the eyes of the woman who had murdered my wife. As her eyes started to close I released her. She went into a horrible coughing fit, covering the wall in her filth.

"You won't feel the sweet release of death tonight Hannah, I'm going to make sure you rot in jail for the rest of your miserable life." I said adamantly. I quickly headed up the stairs and grabbed the house phone to call the police. While dialing 911 I walked back to the top of the basement stairs to check on Hannah. I had revealed I knew her true identity and didn't want to take the chance of her escaping. As I saw she was still laying there, coughing more softly now, the 911 operator picked up.

"911 what is your emergency?"

"Hi, yes, I believe I have information on a murder case. I have the killer in my house right now and I need a unit here immediately!"

"Ok sir tell me your address and we'll have some officers down there right away." The operator said in a very composed manner. After relaying that I lived at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane Hannah decided to speak up again.

"Mark, honey, why are you doing this?" She was struggling to get the words out of her crushed trachea.

"Shut your mouth and stay right there, the police will be here any moment." I quickly answered. I wasn't going to stand for her deceptive ways. The woman laying on the stairs was being of pure evil, one that needed to be treated as such.

After a few more moments of Hannah's desperate pleading I heard a knock on the front door.

"Get ready for your twisted little sick life to get a lot worse demon." I said to Hannah before heading to answer the door.

Outside were three cop cars, an ambulance, and four officers crowded onto my porch.

"Hello sir we got a call about a possible domestic dispute. Can you tell me what's been going on tonight?" The officer closest to the door asked. He seemed to be the Lieutenant or Sergeant as he wore a different badge than the other officers. This was the man I needed to be talking to. Before I could even get a word out, something happened I never could have expected.

Hannah came walking down the stairs from the second floor. She was in much worse shape than I had left her in on the stairs. There were multiple cuts on her face, her nose seemed to be broken, and there was a massive purple bruise on her left cheekbone. While keeping her distance from me and after giving me a frightened look the officers could surely see, she began to speak.

"Oh thank God you're here officers! He's been beating on me and I couldn't take it anymore!" I almost believed her for a split second too. She sounded so innocent and heartbroken, like she's been battling with inner turmoil for a lifetime and finally decided to take action. She even had tears streaming down her face for dramatic effect.

"Is this true sir?" The officer in charge asked. I couldn't believe what the hell was happening. First she appeared upstairs, then the bruises and cuts appeared, and now she was feeding a bullshit story to the officers with the delivery of a seasoned Broadway actress.

"Hell no this isn't true!" I said with confidence, finally managing to get a word out. "This woman here is a killer! She murdered my wife Lauren and is trying to steal her life! You have to believe me!" My words seemed to have little to no effect on the officers.

"Ma'am?" The officer said inquisitively to Hannah.

"I don't know what he's talking about officer, he's gone crazy or something!" Hannah said innocently.

Looking back at me the officer sighed and pulled his handcuffs out. "Please turn around and put your hands behind your back sir."

"What? No way I didn't do anything!" I said defiantly.

"Sir, turn around and put your hands behind your back NOW!" The officer wasn't playing around now. I tried to think of what to do next and the officers took that as a sign of resistance. Within only a moment I had two sets of hands, one on each arm, turning me around and hand cuffing me.

"You can't do this to me! She's a killer! A KILLER!" I screamed as the officers dragged me away from my house. How did she do it? How did she get upstairs? How did she get those marks on her face? What the hell was happening right now? So much had happened in the last 10 minutes my head was spinning and I was beginning to feel sick. The officers read me my Miranda rights and threw me in the back of one of the squad cars. I could see Hannah spreading her lies to one of the officers who stayed to talk with her. He was writing down notes and probably believing every word she was saying.

The officers who had detained me started to leave in their cars so I was forced to sit and watch Hannah give the rest of her statement. Once they finished talking and the officers started walking back towards their cars, Hannah stayed in the doorway to watch. She locked eyes with me and I could swear, was even smiling a little. Whoever that was, it wasn't Lauren.

The officers drove me to the police station without saying a word. Once at the station I was processed and booked. My mug shot was taken, my fingerprint was filed, I was charged with first degree assault, and I was also charged with first degree battery. I thought, this can't be real. I had definitely choked her, but that was besides the point. The woman living in my home wasn't the woman I married. She had murdered my wife and was now trying to steal her life.

Once processed I was given an orange Albuquerque prisoner jump suit and thrown into a tiny cell. The five foot by five foot "room" consisted of a piss stained cot and shit stained toilet.

"Fuck." I said quietly to myself. "How did I end up here?" I spent the next hour or so trying to process what my next steps would be. The charges against me weren't going to be dropped and there was no way that I could fight them after what happened at the house. All of the officers had seen a beat up, cut, and bruised woman cry before them about how she couldn't be abused anymore. Still though, I would eventually have a chance to seek out justice for Lauren. They couldn't lock me up forever because of this.

After sitting in my cell for another hour or so my chance came sooner than I thought. An officer opened my cell door and told me a detective wanted to speak with me. I was escorted out of the cell block and taken to a private interrogation room. I waited for only a short time before a man walked in carrying a huge binder. He didn't wear a blue uniform like the rest of the cops, but instead khakis with a button shirt and a tie. His badge hung down from a lanyard covering part of his tie. He seemed to be about forty five to fifty years old, probably an experienced, grizzled cop who had seen a lot of shit in his day. He pulled his chair real close to mine, pinning me in the corner.

"Hi Mark I'm detective Gary Fring, I've heard a lot about what's happened tonight so I just need to understand what happened from your side. Tell me your version of events from tonight at the house." Detective Fring seemed to be reasonable and willing to listen.