Marissa sat in the middle of her kitchen surrounded by those she loved - the only three people in the world who mattered to her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her long light brown hair fell over her face and stuck to her cheeks. She was glued to the spot. What was she supposed to do?
    She was vaguely aware of the sun setting, the wind blowing through the trees in the backyard and the distant sounds of thunder signaling the approaching storm. The blue sky was streaked with brilliant shades of orange, pink, and an odd light purple color. The evening storm moved toward the house, finally cooling the sun’s rays which had punished anyone who dared step into the heat all day. Thunder crashed louder, closer. She barely heard the thunder, focused solely on the red in front of her.
    She ran her index finger through the sea of red covering the white, tile floor. She couldn’t look up. If she didn’t see the source of the red maybe, just maybe, she could convince herself it was only paint. Paint. Yeah, that was it. Paint. Red paint. Lots of red paint. Maybe she could convince herself the flood of red wasn’t coming from those she loved so dearly.
    Her cream pants darkened from the flood of red. She couldn’t bring herself to move away from the sensation of wetness against her knees. She should. She should call for help, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind froze and her body paralyzed.
    Lifting her head brought her loved ones into focus. They lay side by side on the floor. The red oozed from their bodies. She looked to her side and picked up the bloodstained knife. Possibly, she should join her family. Yes, that’s what she should do. She lay back feeling the red dye her ivory camisole. Her hand wound around the knife. She barely felt its cold hard steel cut through the skin on her palm. She closed her eyes.
    The tip of the knife cut through her pants and separated the skin on her leg. She continued the slow, precise movement without so much as a change of expression. Blood began to seep from the wound in her leg and the gash on her hand.
A sudden, large crash of thunder and a flash of lightning interrupted the ominous quiet. The rain had yet to come. Marissa shuddered still focused on the encroaching red.
    Minutes passed.
    She suddenly sat up and stared at the motionless bodies spread neatly across her kitchen. She dropped the knife. Her eyes traveled from one lifeless body to the next. From the small girl to the even smaller boy to the man. Who were these people? Why was she sitting in this room with them? Where was she? Did they mean something to her? How did they get here? How did she get here?
    She looked around, pushing her hair back from her face. Her green eyes met the eyes of a stranger in her reflection in the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. The door stood slightly open and the wind whipped through the space, whistling a barely audible whine. Or was that sound stuck in her throat trying to get out?
She turned her head toward strangely familiar sounds in the next room. Tom chased Jerry on the television. Between her and the television lay familiar, lifeless bodies surrounded by a sea of red. Her body shook violently as she struggled to bring the bodies in focus.
    She clutched her head in her hands. Who the hell were these people? She pulled her hair. How had they gotten here? What had happened to them? She beat her hands against her blood-covered face. Who the hell were they? The thoughts kept coming. She couldn’t stop them.
    Rain banged against the sliding glass door and the kitchen window, matching the banging inside her head. Marissa never moved.
    She heard sirens in the distance. Help was on the way….

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