The scent of blood wouldn’t leave me. It clung to my skin, my hair, my thoughts—drenching me in something heavier than grief. My parents’ clothes had been soaked in it, their presence erased with cruel efficiency. No bodies. No final words. Just bloodstained fabric and the hollow realization that I was alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
The bedroom felt suffocating, though the walls had not moved. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that would hold me together, but the weight pressing on my chest was relentless. I tried to breathe through it, but every inhale felt shallow, weak.
They were gone.
Nothing could change that.
And yet, behind me, his presence remained. Steady. Unshakable.
Luca.
He hadn’t left my side since dragging me away from the sight of my parents’ bloodied clothes.
