In a bout of panic, Milan jerked backward. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this sight. His parents. Dead before him.

  He pulled up his phone, about to slip out of his hand. His vision blackened, and his arm reached out, searching for anything nearby to maintain his balance.

  He called the police. How he managed to do that, he had no idea. The phone was shaking. No, not the phone. His hands were shaking.

  He didn’t know what he told them. A deafening silence spread in his ears. He couldn’t hear himself. Or anything anymore. Not the screeching ringing of the alarm clock or his own heartbeat or breathing. One moment he was on the phone. The next, his insides flipped, and he threw up. He clung to the thick wall at the doorway, his fluttering fingers gliding across. He had to get out of here. For a second, he thought if he should check if they were really dead, but thinking about it made his stomach churn. Besides, it was obvious they had been dead for a while. Patches of purple and gray all over their bodies, their clothes drenched in dark blood, and their eyes. Their eyes were devoid of light. Plain dead.

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  Milan flumped on the floor, his arms swathing around his knees. His legs felt like lead. He tried to calm his breathing, but they came out short and heavy. His mind went blank as he waited. What was he waiting for?

  The thoughts in his mind collapsed, plunging into the void one after another. The world whirled around. What should he do now? What could he do?

  He couldn’t make out a single thing. He’d lost his perception of everything.

  “Police, coming through!” A voice from the outside hit his ears. How long had he been sitting here for? The front door cracked open, and they pushed in.

  Milan tried to move, but his body felt numb. His vision faded, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, falling unconscious.