Even after Izaak's series of rushed knocks, Este didn’t come to the door.
“I’m terrified,” Margarita cried. “I have a bad feeling. Oh god!”
Izaak took two steps back, kicked the door open with one violent strike, and charged into the bedroom. He found Este sitting on the floor, paralyzed in the corner, holding a blood-stained fruit knife in her hand.
Margarita screamed when she saw her half-dead daughter. Blood dripped from Este's wrist, and her white arm lay lifelessly on the walnut-colored floor.
“Este!” Izaak bellowed in fear.
He looked around to find something he could use to cover her wound. His mind was cluttered and frantic, and he couldn’t think straight.
Until he looked down at his own clothes. He untangled his necktie and wrapped it around Este’s wrist to stop
