TRIGGER WARNING
In the private lounge, Karen lingered in the bathroom, the faint hum of the building around her a muted backdrop.
She let the cool water run over her hands, feeling it wash away the heat of the moment. Lifting her hands to her face, she wiped at the dark streak of blood that had smeared along her lips, dragging it clean with careful precision.
She reached for the compact mirror and subtly redid her makeup, smoothing the line of her lipstick, a practiced calm in her movements.
She used the towel in her hand to dry her hands slowly, as if each motion were a small performance of control.
She back into the bedroom.
Her eyes flicked down. Mr. Frederick's body lay sprawled across the bed, the scene grotesque yet almost clinical in its horror.
His face was ripped and torn, clawed at in ways that seemed almost inhuman, streaks of blood tracing the contours of his features.
