The room fell into an oppressive silence as the group processed the brutal reality before them. Michael's lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, a dark reminder of the violence that had shattered the evening. Rachael and Henry exchanged a glance—no words, just the heavy weight of a shared understanding. They had to stick to their story. No matter how convincing the truth seemed, it wasn't an option.
Anabella broke the silence, her voice shaky but firm. "We need to call the police. Now."
"No, no, no!" Rachael's voice trembled, and she shook her head frantically. "Please, don't call them. Please."
Peace rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her. "It'll be okay, sweetie. Don't be scared. We've got you," she whispered soothingly, though her own uncertainty seeped through her words.
"I'm going to get arrested," Rachael sobbed, her voice cracking. "I don't want to go to prison. Please… I can't."
