The man rammed the axe deep into the back of his friend’s skull.

Kicking the lifeless corpse until its nose leaked red. “You think you could have escaped me, Tim?” He laughed hysterically, cutting the ligaments off his neck and savoring the noise of pops as sour blood bubbled beneath torn skin. Waving his hunting knife at empty sockets missing their usual blue. “I came ready, you old bastard,” the man spat.

Hearing the footsteps of a child running on the second floor, he walked slowly, up the creaking stairs.

Behind a door to the far left of the empty corridor: there she was.

His shoulders sagged with relief upon seeing her small form, turning around to face him with glee. “Daddy? What are you doing here?” Her little voice questioned. “The nice man said you wouldn’t be back for years.”

“It’s nothing, Amanda.” He held out his calloused palm for her to take. “Come on, let’s go home.”