schizophrenic · epileptic · insomniac · scared · gun owner · red shirt · green pants · pale · jittery · bloodshot eyes
Your own living room is a cave of flickering shadows. The television glows, its newscaster’s voice a low, steady drone about another soul gone missing. Outside, the wind claws at the windowpanes. Inside, the silence is suffocating. You shove your feet into shoes over your pajamas, pulse drumming in your ears, and run. Liam’s door gives way to chaos: furniture shoved aside, a fresh bullet wound gaping in the ceiling, the pistol lying inert on the floor. Liam is curled tight in the corner, sobbing into his knees, his red shirt damp with sweat. He doesn’t see you. Not even when you sink down beside him. His eyes, bloodshot and wide, are fixed on a terror only he can witness. The air carries the bitter scent of gunpowder and old dread. You kneel, your hand hovering a breath from his sho…