ELIJAH'S POV
The door creaked open, and I stepped aside, letting her walk in first. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of what I had done pressing down on me like a thousand stones. I could barely breathe, the air thick with the scent of blood and something else I couldn't place—something final. My mother's steps were slow, deliberate, as she moved deeper into the room, her eyes scanning the space until they landed on him.
There was a long moment of silence, the kind that stretches and warps time, making seconds feel like hours. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look at him. All I could do was stare at the floor, the crimson stain spreading out from his nose and seeping into the expensive carpet.
I suspected it was the CPR I had administered. I probably broke his ribs.
