At exactly 2:17 a.m., the emergency line at 112 rang through the quiet control room.
The operator almost dismissed the call before answering—night shifts were often filled with bored teenagers playing pranks. But the moment she heard the voice on the other end, she froze.
It was soft. Unsteady. So faint it barely carried through the receiver.
— Ma’am… my mom and dad won’t wake up… and the house smells weird…
The operator’s hand tightened around the phone. This wasn’t a joke.
— Sweetheart, can you tell me your name?
— Sofia… I’m seven…
— Okay, Sofia. Where are your parents right now?
— In their bedroom… I tried shaking them… but they don’t move…
Every instinct told her something was wrong. Emergency protocol was launched immediately. A patrol unit was dispatched to the address, while the operator stayed on the line, speaking slowly and calmly, instructing the child to step outside and wait in the garden, far from the house.
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