Abigail
The blood on the floor stopped me cold.
There were dark, fresh smears staining the hardwood right inside the doorway of our old apartment.
My heart leapt to my throat, and I shoved the door open quickly, stepping in while it creaked behind me.
"Annette?" My voice cracked. "Annie?!"
I was met with silence. My bag slipped from my hand to the floor at the sight before me.
The living room was destroyed.
The cushions were slashed open, drawers yanked out and emptied, papers scattered everywhere as though a storm had torn through the building. That wasn't the worst of it all.
"No," I whispered, my eyes following the trail of blood. It was a gruesome path leading toward the kitchen, ending at the fridge where a knife pinned a note to it.
"You know where to find me or say goodbye to your bestie. I'll advise you come alone, make a wrong move, and I'll gut her."
