Now looking back I think it was my curiosity that pushed me over the brink and forced me to step into the living room, like some kind of zombie. I imagine it that way when I think back, my face a ghastly white, my movements slow and almost rigid.

As I stepped onto the hard-wood my shoes made scuffing sounds and my heart leapt into overdrive. What if something had happened to Cicil? Murdered, perhaps? What if the murderer were still in here? I began to tip-toe towards our shared bedroom, but as I turned the corner to the hallway I saw her lying face down halfway between the kitchen and the living room. I froze. I couldn’t scream, it just lodged in my throat like a dry piece of toast you could almost choke on.

I wanted to touch her, see if she was ok, but the thought of touching her limp body, possibly dead, rotting body made me want to run far, far away. And that smell.. It seemed so alive, as if it wanted to suffocate me; surrounding me so thick I thought I would pass out.

Then I did scream.