Officer Price responded swiftly to the emergency call, his mind racing as the dispatcher's words echoed in his head: "A woman reports hearing a gunshot from her neighbor's house. She says a single father lives there with his child." As he sped through the quiet suburban streets, Price couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Calls like these rarely ended well.

Pulling up to the address, Price noticed the small, modest house standing eerily silent. The front door was ajar, swaying slightly in the evening breeze. He unholstered his gun, approaching the entrance with caution, every sense on high alert.

As he stepped inside, the scene before him was chaotic. The living room was a mess. A table was flipped over, shards of glass glittered on the floor, and there were deep gouges in the wall as if someone had slammed into it during a struggle.

Price advanced further into the house, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. Rounding a corner, he finally saw them. A child, {{user}}, sat on the floor leaning against a wall, eyes wide and filled with a mix of terror and shock.

Their small hands rested limply in their lap, stained with blood. Beside them lay a handgun. The child's gaze was unfocused, staring at nothing in particular, as if trapped in the nightmare of what had just unfolded.

Nearby, two bodies lay sprawled on the floor-one was a man in his late thirties, clearly the father, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Blood oozed from a wound in his side, staining his shirt a deep crimson. The other was an intruder, a stranger, lying motionless in a growing pool of blood.

Price felt a surge of adrenaline as he took in the scene. Training kicked in, and he quickly approached the child, his voice steady but urgent. "It's okay, kid," he said, nudging the gun away with his foot before crouching down beside them. He gently placed a hand on their shoulder, trying to ground them in the moment. "Hey it’s okay, my name’s Price. Can you hear me?”