Antonis Raptis, a seventeen-year-old boy, bloodied Chrisodendri: he entered the single-room school class with a stolen machine gun, killed the teacher and almost all his friends, and then set himself on fire. The massacre rocked the border hamlet, but police closed the file in haste. What happened was light lantern: another tweaked piece of shit who, on the occasion of a love disappointment, made his jealousy a murder weapon. But the wind of guilt still shakes the trees of the village. The shooter's mother knows the killer and her son weren't the same person. The only victim of the attack still conscious is struggling to articulate the truth. And the souls of the dead students are shouting, being dog-eaten, keeping their secret well. Filippos Sextos, a collector of testimonies and aspiring artist, travels to the carved Chrisodendri. Something about the whole thing doesn't leave him alone: He must talk to the parents, the brothers, Maro, the most tragic of the mothers. When a child kills other children is still a child? And when blood is spilled unjustly, what is the first injustice, the root of evil? A mystery story, a chase for the truth. Who killed first and who was forgotten? A dark tale that steals your breath.
