Matt felt his stomach do a crazy flip-flop as his horrid eyes scanned his sitting room.
The warm tones of the room were drowned in chaos and violence.
The sun filtered through the ripped curtains in thin, broken streams, casting uneven shafts of light across the chaotic surroundings.
His luxury television had been plucked from its mount, with the delicate screen trashed beyond recognition and wires dangling like veins.
The branded velvet couches were ripped and ravaged – their plush surface slashed with jagged tears running across the deep fabric and stuffing spilling out like wounds left by knives.
Family photos were overturned and broken. The bookshelf was toppled, spilling its contents like a collapsed wall of memories.
Shattered glasses littered the floor from his trashed coffee table like spiky glistening ice.
But this wasn't the only sight that made the blood completely drain from Matt's face, leaving behind a paled and terrified being.
