The creaky door swung open to reveal a saddened sight. This spooky house would give anyone a fright. To my right, a large wooden chest. It had dark images of death, destruction sketched into it. As I went up the stairs, they screamed, cried, begging for me to fall over the edge where the banister should of been. I made my way slowly in the bathroom only to be hit by a wall of disaster. Blood, still fresh, dripping down the walls. Pooling in the bathtub as well as the sink. Telling a story of manipulation to massacre.
As I ran down the stairs I froze. Where the large wooden chest had been was now empty. A trail of blood lead down the front stairs to the boot of my car.