"Is this animal abuse or human abuse?" The cruelty and savagery that the pictures portrayed made the drunkard uncomfortable. He shoved the pictures back into the drawer without looking through all of them. As he pulled his hands back, he suddenly felt something wet and sticky on his palm. Using the phone to see, the drunkard's eyes jumped. His palms were wet with reddish-black blood.
"But I haven't touched anything other than the pictures? Could the blood have seeped out from the pictures?" Standing alone in the strange room, with things scurrying in the corridor, the wind chime singing, and a mop-like monster blocking the front door… even if the drunkard had one hundred times his courage, he would not have left the room.
