It was a fateful summer afternoon when the tragedy struck. The village's idyllic charm was disrupted as an air of melancholy settled upon its streets.
Max was playing with his friends, the rays of the sun dancing upon their faces, when a neighbor rushed towards him with an expression of distress on her face. As she said, Sofia, his ever-smiling mother, was in trouble. Max's heart pounded in his chest as he ran towards his home, not knowing the storm that awaited him.
As he approached the familiar white fence that enclosed his home, his heart was filling with terror. He rushed through the front door, only to find chaos and despair that would forever haunt him. Sofia, his lovely mother, lay motionless on the bedroom floor, her eyes fixed on an unseen to anyone horizon.
Max's world shattered into a million pieces, and his cries of anguish pierced the heavy silence, replacing laughter that used to be a frequent guest in their house. He could not comprehend the tragedy that had befallen him, and a profound sense of loss consumed his young soul.
Daniel, Max's father, stood at the centre of the bedroom. He was acting as normally and rationally not showing up any emotions, unlike his son. Without any changes in his voice or face, he called the police.
When police arrived, they investigated the crime scene, but hadn't found any significant.
The circumstances of Sofia's death remained shrouded in mystery, adding to the pain and confusion that engulfed Max's young heart.
As the news spread, the once cheerful village was veiled in sorrow. The village was a tight-knit community, where secrets were rarely kept, but this tragedy seemed to break that rule.
The days that followed were a blur of heartache and tears for Max. The boy withdrew from the world around him, building an impenetrable fortress around his wounded soul. He sought solace within the pages of books, escaping into the world of imagination to find comfort from the harsh reality.
Even though Daniel seemed to be emotionless, something definitely was happening inside of him. However, it was too late to take with him, when another day Max found him hanging in the centre of kitchen, with the tight loop around his neck and rolled-over chair under his feet.
With both of his parents gone, and all of his relatives living overseas, Max found himself in the care of the village's orphanage. Its walls were meant to provide shelter and care, but to Max, they felt like a prison.
Within the orphanage, Max's once-vibrant spirit dimmed. He became closed in himself, desiring for loneliness and finding it difficult to connect with the other children who did not understand the depths of his loss. The world outside seemed distant, and Max felt like a mere observer, detached from the life he once knew.
The village that had once embraced him with open arms now felt like a distant memory. The laughter that once echoed through the streets became a faint echo, as Max's own laughter seemed to have vanished with his parents.
Inside of the orphanage, Max was feeling comfortable only in the company of books. They became his sanctuary, offering him an escape from the pain that gripped his heart.
The villagers watched with heavy hearts as the young boy they had known so well retreated further into his sorrow. They tried to reach out to him, offering their love and support, but Max had become a lonely soul, rejecting any care.
And so, the village was going through not only the loss of Sofia and Daniel, but also the loss of the lively boy who had once brightened their lives. Time passed, and the echoes of tragedy continued to reverberate through the village, leaving Max to navigate the shadowy corridors of his inner world alone.
