Luna sat in the interrogation room at the police station, staring out of the small window as the sun dipped below the horizon. The golden light cast long shadows on the walls, but the warmth of the setting sun did little to comfort her. Her heart was pounding, the events of the day replaying in her mind like a relentless, haunting reel. The blood on her hands, the lifeless eyes of the man she had killed, and Carla’s unconscious form—they all blurred together into a suffocating storm of guilt and dread.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her knuckles white from the pressure. The weight of her actions pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought that she had taken a life, even in self-defense, felt like an unshakable stain on her soul. She knew she would carry th
