I gritted my teeth and limped. Step by step. Carrying the person I loved the most.
I pushed past the rotting wooden fence, wading through knee-high weeds to reach the house. The fragile floorboards of the porch creaked under my weight. The heavy wooden door groaned open.
The stench of mold and dust burned my nose. I set Yurin down on an old velvet sofa in the living room. A cloud of dust puffed into the air as he sank into the cushions.
Cough... Cough... I hacked, choking on the dust. My hand was clamped over my wound. Blood seeped, spreading into a dark stain across my black t-shirt.
Yurin remained perfectly still, staring straight ahead. He didn't blink. He didn't react to the dust, the stench, or my visible agony. He was like a mechanical doll whose batteries had been ripped out.
"Wait here..." I rasped, my chest heaving.
"I'll go flip the breaker and check the bedroom."
