Half got left behind

What went on here...

Why was there blood on the sheets?!

Now, as I said before, Alice makes up creepy things from stuff. And sometimes, she does it without meaning to.

Which that sometimes is also now.

Alice had creepy things racing through her mind.

Maybe....maybe someone was killed here!!!

No, no way. Come on Alice, its just a drop. Really now, one drop doesn't mean anything, it could be for any reason!

Alice went over in a stiff walk and began furiously flipping the sheets over, searching for more, but only to find two more drops.

So its settled. It wasn't murder...right?

She ran downstairs and into the living room. Her mom looked over at her, "Oh hey Alice, are you done setting up your room already?"

"U-uh, um no mom, not yet." She went and started looking through all the past owners furniture, for something, ANYTHING!

But she herself wasn't even sure what...

"Alice, have you even started?!" Her mom stood up and gave her the mother eye.

Alice let out a huff and turned around and slapped her hands to her side.

"No, mom, i haven't! God, I'm busy ok, lay the hell off of me!" She turned around and began looking again, stunned at what she had just said.

She never talked like that to her family.

Her mom stood in awe, but then looked like she was thinking.

"Alice...have you been feeling ok?"

"No, mom. My head is pounding like a god dam hammer, and my sides ache!!!!", Alice yelled, now looking at a bookshelf.

Her mom, nodding slowly, said, "Alice what are you doing?"

"NOTHING!" Alice shouted. She gapped at her own words.

"Alice if you start really feeling pain, come to me." And with that, she turned and went upstairs.

Alice stood confused for a second, then opened a drawer to the bookshelf.

She looked inside. Sticky notes, pencil.....

She slowly reached inside and pulled out a picture.

This must be the past family she thought.

She looked at the picture closely.

It was a family of four. There was a woman and a man, seemingly the parents. They looked happy, and kind.

Then there was a son, 15, maybe older perhaps. He looked happy as well, dirty blonde hair, green eyes, her age.

Then there was a kid in the middle. He had blue eyes, brown hair like the mom. He looked very happy, 13 maybe, and the picture was taken right in front of the house, now held in a dark ember wood frame.

She tucked the picture in her hoodie and ran to her room, thrusting it under her bed.

That boy in the middle, that picture dated a while ago, he must be like, her age now.

There was Something about him, something off.

Something that just screamed bad things to come.