Hailie quickly dropped the bag, which then spilled its contents onto the concrete floor. Blood oozed out of the bag and the eyeballs rolled through the puddle of thick blood and stopped, both of them coming to rest staring up directly at her. Now Hailie did scream and she frantically tried to stand up, but kept slipping in the growing pool of blood.

"Oh, god, help me!" she cried, then began to crawl as quickly as she could away from that staring horror. "Hel...hel...help!" she kept whimpering as she reached the kitchen and slammed the door shut, quickly locking it.

Sitting on the floor, her back to the closed and locked door, Hailie tried to catch her breath and think this thing through. "It must have been my dad," she gasped, aloud. "He's the killer," she said, even though she couldn't believe it. "God, he must have flipped out or something."

She looked down at herself and discovered that she was covered in blood. Nauseated and nearing panic, she asked herself, "What should I do? Call the cops, or what?"

Not knowing what else to do, she stumbled over to the phone and began dialing 911, but then stopped. "What if he really didn't do it?" she asked herself. She decided to dial his cell phone number, first and try to talk to him. Maybe, just maybe, he had some sort of explanation for all of this madness.

She quickly dialed his cell number and then nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard a cell phone ringing--in the house! She whirled around as the phone rang again. Was he here, in the house, maybe sleeping, maybe hiding? She had no idea.

The cell phone kept ringing, so she decided to follow the sound and try to find the phone. The monotonous rings led her right to the living room closet.

"Is he in the closet?" she asked herself in a hoarse whisper. Maybe he was hurt, she thought and slowly opened the door. What she saw horrified her beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

Her father was lying in a mangled heap on the closet floor, in a huge pool of blood. His throat had been slashed and his eyes had been roughly gouged out. The bloody, blackened holes seemed to stare accusingly at her and right between the empty eye sockets, the handle of the missingkitchen knife protruded from his skull.