The coffee and my tablet both crashed to the floor as I stumbled back a step, bumping into the doorframe as horror washed over me. Mr. Moss was on the floor beside his desk with a knife sticking out of his chest and dark red blood on the white rug beneath him.
“No,” I murmured, stumbling forward. “No, no, no.” My throat tightened, and I fell to my knees beside him. His skin was ashy, and he was unnaturally still.
“Mr. Moss!” I shouted, grabbing his stiff shoulders and shaking him. “Please wake up. Henry!”
Nothing. No response.
A part of me knew it was insane to hope for one. He wasn’t breathing and his skin was cold as ice when I touched his cheek.
“Oh God!” I cried out, panic pumping through my veins with each frantic beat of my heart.
This was so wrong. It couldn’t be true.
My boss was dead. Murdered, right there in his office.