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... t hum of the clock a soft pulse cutting through the silence.
The wrecked room lay in disarray—shattered lamp fragments glinting in the dim red glow at 9:28 PM.
Empty cans littered the floor, faint blood smears crusting the tiles, remnants of past breakdowns staining the space.
He slumped on his bed—sheets wrinkled, sour with sweat—his skinny frame hunched in a thin, damp tee.
His denim jacket lay tossed aside, cracked glasses perched crooked on his nose, fogging f ...
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