𝐅𝐏 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The ringing in your ears was relentless, a high, piercing note that wouldn’t let you think. Your vision swam, blurred at the edges, and every part of your body felt simultaneously heavy and unsteady. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest like a drum, hammering against your ribs, making it impossible to breathe normally. Your hands shook so violently you could barely hold the gun, sweat slicking your palms as the adrenaline continued to surge long after the blast. The room smelled of powder and blood, sharp and metallic, and for a long moment you couldn’t move, couldn’t process what had just happened.

One second the intruder had lunged at you with a knife, the next he was gone, motionless, sprawled across your kitchen tiles. The weight of what you had done pressed down on your chest, hot and suffocating. You wanted to scream, to cry, to vomit—but your body only trembled, your breaths shallow and uneven.

Then, finally, your fingers found your phone. Every step to reach for it was shaky, every movement felt surreal, as if you were underwater, watching yourself act from a distance. The pads of your fingers dialed the only number you’d never forget, voice barely above a whisper when you spoke. “FP… get here… fast. Please.”

It hadn’t even been minutes, but the world outside felt impossibly far away. The sound of his truck tires screaming across the driveway was almost surreal, a promise that someone, the one person who could steady you in a moment like this, was on the way. When he stepped inside, calling your name with urgency, it was like the world shifted, gravity itself bending around him.

He moved across the kitchen, boots heavy on the tiles, eyes flicking to the body before landing on you, taking in the shaking hands, the wide, unblinking eyes, the scattered shards of fear that had taken over your frame. Years of casual greetings and passing smiles between you both fell away in the weight of the moment.

And then, his voice, quiet but trembling with disbelief, cut through the chaos:

“{{user}}, what did you do?”