Awakening from a trace, the young woman shook her head to clear away the mental cobwebs, then opened her eyes and found herself, astonishingly, in the same room she had been in moments before; only now it was different somehow. Glancing around the room, she was amazed by the amount of absolute destruction that surrounded her. Eliza stared at the crimson fluid covering the walls, dripping from the ceiling, and puddling on the floor; wondering where everyone else was and what had caused such blood shed. Standing up, she realized she was holding something cold and heavy in her right hand; not knowing, and in light of her current situation, not caring what it was she numbly released the object and allowed it to fall to the floor. Suddenly a metallic clang rang out through the deserted room, echoing off the slimy walls. Startled by this loudness of the noise after the complete silence, Eliza jumped. Looking down, she saw the object she had been holding lying at her feet and was shocked to find a long, blood stained knife. Unsure what to think of the weapon, Eliza put it out of her mind and tried to solve the mystery of what had happened.

“Hello?” she called out, hoping for an answer, but at the same time afraid someone would. “Is anyone here?”

Met with only unbroken silence, Eliza slowly began exploring the room she stood in. On the surface, it was the same room she had been standing in before she had lapsed into the stupor. The convention room’s hardwood floor was the same, the tables, chairs and paper decorations from the reunion party all the same. The only difference was the blood covering every surface and the missing people. Shaking, uncontrollably, and unable to remain standing in the sight of such carnage any longer, she moved toward an overturned chair and setting it upright, Eliza wearily sat down.

Silently weeping she leaned forward and cradled her face in the palms of her hands. When her fingers touched her face, she was startled to feel something warm and sticky. Jerking her hands down, she began screaming when they came away smeared with congealing blood. Frantically rubbing her hands against the frilly skirt of her too tight, pink taffeta dress, in an attempt to clean them, she noticed that her clothing was drenched in blood.

Panicking she jumped to her feet, knocking over the chair and raced to the buffet table. Knocking aside platters of hors d'oeuvres and over turning a soup tureen, Eliza snatched up a serving tray, turned it over and stared at her reflection on the silver surface. A single gasp escaped her lips at the sight before her; the woman reflected was covered from head to toe in a thick red fluid that was slowly drying to a hideous, shiny black. Raising a single, trembling finger to her cheek, Eliza moved it over her skin, displacing the layer of blood and causing it to sluggishly slide downward. It formed a single drop that clung to her chin before dripping onto the buffet table, where it landed with a splash in a crystal flute of bubbling champagne. Mesmerized, Eliza watched as the single crimson droplet swirled in the pool, wafting outward and diluting, turning the wine a pale pink.