�����Blood was everywhere.
�����I sat up. My white blouse was stained red, wet and heavy. My pants were soaked; I was surrounded by large puddles of blood. The walls were streaked red with splashes and finger-
prints.
�����I was closed in a strange room, alone. There was no furniture; only a small television in one corner. I could not recall where I was, or how I got there. I didn't know what was happening. I didn�t even know who I was, or where I came from.
�����I heard faint screaming and eerie music: a horror movie playing in another room, I presumed.
�����My head ached with questions, and my heart raced with fear. I noticed a rusty butcher knife to the left of me; the edge was dotted with blood. My hands were also stained red. I hurriedly checked myself for wounds; I wasn't hurt. Shaking, almost convulsing, I grasped the knife beside me by its wooden handle and wearily rose to my feet.
�����Tears began streaming down my face. My whole body trembled. I inched toward the door of the room, clutching the weapon in my right hand, both arms outstretched. Several strands of hair fell in my face--hair that appeared to be dark mahogany--and I tucked them behind my ear. Holding the knife tightly enough to turn my hand white, I fumbled for the doorknob with my left hand, turned it slowly, and pushed. The door opened with a quiet creek.
�����I entered a dimly lit hallway. The place was still unfamiliar. There were handprints in blood on the walls, still dripping. Step by step, I crept silently down the hall, seeing there were two rooms at its end: one to the right, one to the left. My pulse had grown faster now. My fear increased with my every step as I approached the end of the hall. I struggled to prevent frightened cries from escaping my trembling lips. I gripped the knife tighter. The suspense was almost unbearable. I was beginning to consider strangling myself; but I moved onward.
�����In front of the two doorways now, I quickly peered into both rooms, on either side of me. The light was faint, but I saw no apparent movement. Directly in front of me was a closed door: an exit, I assumed. Although I wanted desperately to escape, I felt the need to explore both rooms. I entered the one to my left.
�����Trembling, I fumbled for the light switch on the right wall. I found it at last, and I flipped it on.
�����A gasp escaped my lips; my left hand seemed to rise all by itself to cover my mouth in shock, rubbing foreign blood onto my face. I lowered my hand, leaned forward, and heaved violently, spewing up clear, sour vomit.
�����The walls were completely coated in blood, as well as the tiled floor. In one corner, a television showed a gory horror movie, accompanied by eerie music. In the opposite corner was a mutilated corpse, missing a head and several limbs, barely distinguishable. The human was obviously killed recently; its remaining foot was still twitching, as if to make a sickening last attempt at life.
�����I spit repeatedly in a final attempt to rid my mouth of the sour taste of vomit, then stood upright.
��:��� I shut my eyes, trying desperately to rid them of the horror they had witnessed. But somehow I knew there was more; the nightmare was not over, if so, it may be called.
����� I looked around, studying the slaughterhouse that surrounded me. And finally, a terrifying realization swept over me in an awesome wave: upon the gore-smothered walls, there was a message in a blood, traced with what must have been a human finger. I took a step back.
����� The message read......