Lola stood by the window, trying to break it open. The chair she had thrown against the glass was lying on the floor, and her knuckles were red from beating against the impenetrable glass.

Her hair lay messy, and her cheeks stained crimson from the blood on her hands when she dragged them over her face in despair.

Her foggy mind was still trying to comprehend everything from the last hours, but only bits and pieces were forming in her memory.

She remembered her apartment ...