You don’t know why but when you came home, you felt that something was wrong.

And you weren’t wrong indeed.

The whole house was a mess.

Pieces of glasses everywhere in the kitchen, the living room a mess, drops of blood all the way to the bedroom. You follow the path, slowly opening the ajar door of the bedroom.

Lando was there, on the corner of the room. There were some mops of curls beside him, the bed broken, pillow thrown open, clothes everywhere and the closet broken. Lando’s hands were bleeding, as well as his face.