As Toby entered the bedroom with his eyes gazing at the floor, he reached out for the knob to close the door. It wasn't there. There were torn-off fingernails, blood and marks of desperate scratching on the door. He took a few steps backwards. The whole room was covered with blood patterns of all kind: squirts, puddles, splattered shapes everywhere. And that smell ...
The door silently closed. This room had no other exits. He backed up to the wall, where he stepped into something wet. He was shocked and terrified, but he looked down. He saw himself, and suddenly spotted a bloody face reaching out for him from above with dark and empty eyeholes and a mute, yet horrifying scream.
Toby screamed in fear and wet his pants, as he tried to run to the door and slipped on his way. He turned back, and saw his father's dismembered, blood-covered torso. His neck was grotesquely twitched. His fingers were bloody, and had no nails on them. It was his own father! And in another corner, sat his mother with a pale skin and her head hanging down as though she was unconscious. She was bloody. However, she seemed alright apart from that.
Toby ran to her in shock and panic. He kneeled and grabbed her shoulders crying:
He held his mother's head and raised it. HER face was peeled to bone, yet, her eyes were in place, gazing into the emptiness without lids.
Toby screamed once again, and did just as her mother: he backed into the opposite corner and grabbed his hair and tore it; he tore it so hard, holding so much hair that he tore off his own headskin. He cried and scremed hysterically, and tore his hair more and more, which came off with less and less difficulty.
Then, he looked at his bloody hands, and suddely recognized the pain and the tickling streams of blood, the hair stuck to his crimson palms ... He started laughing. First silently, then, with more and more enthusiasm. He grinned insanely, stood up, and ran to his mother. He grebbed her arm, and started chewing her hand. He tasted the blood, the human flesh and felt the fingers move as he tried to pull out the sinew. At last, the hand fell off, and he went to the door. He forcefully tore the hand apart by the fingers, and started pushing the bloody and slippery pieces through the lock, shouting:
When he finished, he sat back, and waited a few seconds. Then a few more. He lost his patience:
He turned back with the fire of anger in his eyes, and leaped to the corpse in the corner. He started hitting her. The eyes rolled out of their place and hung on their nerves, jumping to the rhythm of punches.
Then he grabbed the woman's throat and started beating her head into the wall.
The neck cracked. Toby suddenly stopped. He found a different hold on his mother, and dragged the corpse to the door, then continued the banging there.
And the door opened ...
It was his older sister, Jill:
Jill tripped, and they fell right off the stairs. Jill's back cracked once, then twice as they were rolling. And just as they landed, her head met the floor and twisted right under her body which fell right on top of it. Jill's head was torn off from the trauma, spilling a long stream blood on the carpet. Toby's head opened up and the squiggy red brain-matter covered his sister's lifeless body.
Later, Joan, the youngest sister came home. She noticed the tragic accident, then ran upthe stairs. She was horrified by the sight in the room. She rushed back to call the police or the ambulance or anyone, but she slipped on the stairs where Toby's head cracked. She fell right on top of the other two, and her eyes met Toby's fragmented skull's pointed, sharp edge which the impact drove right through Joan's brain.
They were found that afternoon by the neighbor, Mrs. Sanders, who - being a tender-, but ill-hearted old lady, died that very moment ...
