GRAYSON'S HANDS INSTANTLY SUBMERGED THEM INTO HIS DARK HAIR, grabbing it at the roots as he pulled at them. Panic bounced in challenging waves, his breathing becoming rugged.
Panic switched off his higher brain. Why did this constantly happen to him? His legs were weak, shakey as he walked into the house. The once white walls stained in that vivid red had everyone stir crazy with panic inside, always leading them to conclude the most irrational outcome. In this case, all Grayson had in mind was, is it hers? Did that red stain belong to her?
The metallic scent intoxicated his acute sense; it was intense, fresh. Each footstep Grayson takes tore through him. The sudden realisation something might have happened to her was very much present within his conscious mind, but his mind couldn't beg to ask the question of what happened here?
