Every part of him was on fire, but Travis still walked. He fumbled with the doorhandle to Cody’s room and pushed the door open.
Stumbling in, he half-dropped Amy onto the bed. Hated himself for not being more careful. She didn’t deserve that.
He closed her eyes. Started backing out of the room.
Something occurred to him. He hesitated, flipping on the light.
There was blood everywhere. The sheets, the walls, the floor.
Across the ceiling, ‘WE WILL FUCKING KILL YOU’.
They had run out of blood to write it with. They finished it with paint.
Travis barely avoided vomiting.
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Travis Redgrave is not having a good morning.
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