“Okay,” the girl said softly.
Within seconds, a patrol unit was sent to the address.
When officers arrived at the small wooden chalet on the edge of town, the scene felt wrong from the start.
Sofia was sitting barefoot on the cold ground, her knees pulled to her chest. She clutched a worn stuffed animal so tightly its ear was bent out of shape. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she wasn’t crying.
That stillness unsettled the officers more than tears would have.
As they approached the front door, the smell hit them.
Gas.
Sharp and unmistakable, mixed with something metallic that lingered in the air. Officer Morales didn’t hesitate. He radioed for the fire department immediately.
The girl spoke quietly as they waited.
“A few days ago,” she said, staring at the grass, “Mom said the boiler was making strange noises.”
“Did anyone come to fix it?” Morales asked.
She shook her head.
“No. Dad said it was fine.”
Firefighters arrived quickly. Masks went on. The house was cleared for entry.
Inside the bedroom, the sight was worse than anyone expected.
Sofia’s parents lay side by side on the bed. No signs of struggle. No visible injuries. Just two still bodies, breathing shallowly, barely.
The air was thick with gas.
A smoke detector hung uselessly on the wall. Its battery compartment was empty.
They were moved out immediately. Paramedics worked fast, loading them into the ambulance as sirens cut through the night.
From the garden, Sofia reached out toward her mother, her small hand trembling.
“Are they going to wake up?” she asked.
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