“Fuck.” I climb the stairs two at a time and stop in front of her door. Images from the last time I heard the cello slip into my head, and all of them end with a haunting smile, a scream, and a fuckload of blood. One, two, three… It’s under control. Four, five, six… She doesn’t remember. Seven, eight, nine… At ten, I open the door and stop at the entrance.
Omg... What happened?!
