The doors were locked.
Windows were broken with the glasses having stains of blood.
Most of the chairs were either broken or had been thrown away, sitting upside down.
And, there were broken glasses all over the floor.
Lifeless bodies were lying everywhere. Fresh bodies that had just been slaughtered and dismembered. Everything looked ghastly like something from a horror view, and the once bubbly place that was filled with laughter, sex, smoke, and fun was now as quiet as a graveyard.
In the middle of everything, Alastair was sitting on the bar shelf with his head between his hands. He was rubbing his chest, grunting louder and louder by the second with so much frustration and anger.
He was on the verge of running insane.
And Killing was not helping matters at all.
On a normal day, a bit of blood on his hands was enough to calm him down.
