I didn't know how long it took. Time felt like a blur—a cruel trick that stretched moments into hours, hours into days. All I knew was that at some point, Jay stopped breathing. His chest, once rising and falling in weak, shallow gasps, had stilled. His lips turned blue, his skin pallid and clammy.
And me?
I felt nothing.
Not relief. Not anger. Not even satisfaction. Just… hollow.
I sat there for what felt like an eternity, staring at his lifeless body slumped in the chair. The bloodied tools, the scorch marks, the damp concrete—they were all part of a tableau that seemed to belong to someone else. Like I was watching it all unfold from outside my own body.
Eventually, I stood. There was no point staying here anymore.
