A surprising amount of red liquid that defied the physics of kitchenware shot from the cup to the ceiling. Samantha dropped the cup on the floor, screaming. She hurried out of the kitchen, her nightgown, face, and hair drenched in red that felt like blood.
The rerun of Totally Spies in the living room's television was gone, replaced by an image of a decaying face. Samantha stepped back and slipped on a puddle she brought to the living room herself. The owner of the grotesque face crawled, on all fours, out of the television towards her. I reaped Samantha next.