You enter the room. The back wall is stacked to about waist-height with gold, and as your gaze comes down, you notice scratch marks on the floor.
Your gaze sweeps right, towards the figure of Battler, holding the rifle limply at his side.
Next to him, George, on his knees, covering his face with his hands, sobbing grossly.
In front of him, Jessica sits with her back to the wall, legs outstretched. The left side of her face has been completely smashed in, and just a little distance away is a bloodied metal pipe, covered with grey matter. You crouch closer to investigate. The corpse is deathly cold, the blood black, and clotted. The facial wound is the only one you can see.
As you reel backwards, Battler's eyes drift away, to the door. His mouth agape, he manages to get out a few words, before staggering backwards.
His gun falls from his hands, and you hear the footsteps of someone entering the room. You spin, and as your head turns, the world crumbles away. George is gone. Battler is gone.
The witch of the painting stands before you, in all her glory.
Message too long. Click here
to view the full text.