The house across the street is quiet and dark. The door to the kitchen has been knocked down entirely. Upstairs, a door can be pulled from the hall ceiling with a ladder to access the roof. Broken glass lies on many of the surfaces, as well as slick, sticky patches that, in this light, could be blood or just something else.

On the kitchen counter lies a full knife rack, cleaning ingredients and dishes. Extinguished candles and a lighter rest on the dining hall table.

Somewhere in the guest bedroom, something sniffs and lies in wait.