Hirvan's mind buzzed like a broken radio, loud and scrambled. His ears rang. His thoughts wouldn't come together. Time wasn't moving. Everything around him was still, frozen in place.
His hands were red.
His palms trembled, stained with thick, sticky warmth. His fingers curled and uncurled, trying to make sense of what he was feeling, but the truth wouldn't come. The weight on his lap was heavy and hot. His eyes slowly dragged downward, then widened.
Irama.
The body on top of him... It was Irama.
Blood soaked through his clothes, thick and warm. It stuck to Hirvan's shirt, to his skin, to his soul. His heart thudded in his chest, hard enough that it hurt. The sound of it echoed in his ears, louder than anything else.
He was in a trance. 'What just happened? Wasn't I in front of the gun? Why? That was meant for me… why?'
