"What the fuck," I muttered when we came out into the living room. Or what was supposed to be the living room. There was no furniture, but every available surface—walls, floor, windows, even the ceiling—was covered in text. Jagged, often illegible handwriting. Random words and sentence fragments, but over and over... Darling. On one wall, from floor to ceiling, the Darling logo that Zed had designed was painted. On closer inspection, though, I got a chilling feeling that it wasn't paint.
