Marco

The door slammed shut behind us, and for a long second, I held my breath, drowning in my own thoughts.

I started pacing before I even realized I was moving, from one end of the room to the other. The soles of my shoes dragged against the dust-covered floor, my ragged breathing loud in my ears, my hands trembling. I couldn't stop shaking. Every time I stopped, it hit me again like a wave—Bianca was gone. My sister. She was dead. Killed. And by my own hands.

I let out a sound. I don't know if it was a laugh or a sob. Maybe it was both because tears...