You sit there, worried. Your parents haven’t come home in ages, and you're starting to get nervous. Where were they when you needed them, dammit. You swore you heard moving in the kitchen… God, not now, of all times… You get up, slightly shaken. Nobody’s in the kitchen. You're home alone.
You walk over, scared. Its pitch within the boundaries of the door, like a gaping maw waiting for you. Calling. By now, you're quite regretting having gotten up in the first place, but you walk in anyways. You hold your hand on the switch (which was slightly sticky) and take a deep breath.
You flick on the light.
Your dog and sister are laid out on the kitchen island, butchered. Bloody. Massacred. You sigh in relief. Thank fuck the neighbors hadn't heard the screaming. You were actually worried for a second there. Chuckling, you head back to the lounge, place the machete back on your lap, and wait for your parents to come back.
Any time now.