The living room was a storm of chaos. Officers moved briskly, their boots clomping heavily against the blood-streaked floor as they snapped photos and bagged evidence. Their faces were etched with a mix of revulsion and professionalism, the gruesome scene testing even the most seasoned among them.
Near the center of the room, David lay sprawled, his body trembling faintly with shallow breaths. His blood-soaked clothes clung to him like a second skin, the metallic tang of blood overpowering the air. When one officer noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest, his shout shattered the tense murmurs.
“He’s alive! Get a stretcher here, now!”
Two paramedics rushed in, their hands steady despite the urgency. They loaded David onto the stretcher, his head lolling weakly to the side as his eyes flickered open and shut. The wail of the ambulance siren outside cut through the oppressive silence, signaling their hasty departure.
***
By the time the officers led me out of the house, the street was a mass of bodies. Neighbors craned their necks from behind the police tape, their faces pale in the flickering red and blue lights. Some whispered in hushed voices; others hurled accusations with venomous fervor.
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a wedding day? I saw Sarah this morning, so happy as she picked up groceries! And now, this? Blood everywhere?”
“What kind of monster murders the people who raised her? She killed them in cold blood! Do you think her parents died the same way?”
The weight of their words pressed down on me like iron chains, but my expression remained neutral. My gaze swept across their horrified faces, lingering momentarily on an elderly woman clutching a rosary, her lips moving in a silent prayer.
The murmurs shifted to a crescendo as I was handcuffed and escorted into a patrol car. The officer’s grip on my arm was firm, his fingers digging into my skin as though he feared I’d slip away.
***
The interrogation room was cold, the lights casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. I sat slumped in the metal chair, my wrists bound tightly, the handcuffs biting into my skin. The air smelled faintly of sweat and the faint hum of a ceiling fan did little to break the suffocating tension.
Across the table, the captain leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Do you think this is a game?” he hissed, his voice low but cutting. “What was your motive? Why did you do it?”
A sharp pain twisted in my abdomen, sharp enough to make me wince. My body curled reflexively and cold sweat drenched my back. I tried to steady my breathing, but each inhale came in shallow, shaky gasps.
The officer’s glare hardened. “Don’t even think about playing sick,” he growled. “We’ve seen that trick too many times. Answer me!”
A weak smile tugged at my lips, though it felt more like a grimace. “Do I need a motive to kill?” I rasped, my voice strained but steady. “If you want an explanation, I can give you one—but I want to see my brother first.”
The younger officer standing in the corner bristled, his temper flaring. “Who do you think you are?” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table. “You’re in no position to make demands! We’ll get the truth out of you, whether you like it or not!”
Just as his outburst filled the room, a knock at the door interrupted him. Another officer entered, a thick file clutched in his hands. He whispered something to the captain, whose stern expression shifted into something more solemn as he read the report.
“Her parents died years ago,” he muttered, his voice low enough that I could barely hear. “She was adopted by the Collins. No records of conflict. But something feels... off.”
He exchanged a glance with his colleague, then straightened up, addressing the room. “We’ll follow her request,” he declared reluctantly. “Let's go to the hospital, maybe her brother knows something.”
***
As the officers filed out, their glares burned into me, each step echoing with unspoken accusations. Left alone in the cold, sterile room, the pain in my abdomen intensified. My body shook uncontrollably, tears mingling with the sweat that dampened my face.
The world blurred, and in that haze, a vision of my mother appeared. Her face was streaked with tears, her voice choked with anger and despair as she argued with my father.
“I told you not to interfere!” she sobbed, her hands trembling. “Now look at us—ruined! Why did this happen? What did we do wrong?”
My father stood silent, his face lined with sorrow. His shoulders sagged under the weight of her words, his sighs heavy with regret.
The memory shifted, dissolving into the day of their funeral. I saw David’s face, pale but resolute, as he gripped my hand tightly. “Bianca,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “From now on, it’s just the two of us. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.”
Anne’s warmth enveloped me next. Her arms wrapped around me in a gentle embrace, her voice soft and soothing. “You’re my sister now,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “My home is your home. My parents are your parents.”
***
The sharp sound of a door slamming open jolted me back to reality. A group of officers stormed in, their faces grim. Without a word, they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out of the room.
When my vision cleared, I found myself outside a hospital room. An officer stood beside me, his voice filled with righteous fury.
“Look at what you’ve done to your brother!” he barked, gesturing toward the window. Inside, David lay motionless on the bed, his body hooked up to an array of monitors. “How are we supposed to question him now? Confess! Why did you do this?”
I ignored his words, my gaze fixed on the monitor displaying David’s vitals. The steady beeping was almost soothing. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, echoing in the sterile hallway.
“He’ll live,” I said, my voice calm and detached. “He’s always been so stubborn. If I wanted him dead, I would’ve struck harder.” I paused, a cold smile curving my lips. “Oh, by the way, can you confirm he’s permanently paralyzed now?”
