I looked in the living room and spotted my dad lying on the couch. He seemed to be sleeping, but the large dark stain on his white shirt drew me closer. I flicked on the lamp and a scream ripped its way up my throat. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming out. Tears filled my eyes as I took in my dad’s butchered, prone body. His eyes were open, vacant depths. His arm was hanging off the side of the couch, fingers lying limp on the carpet. His entire stomach had been ripped open and his insides were pulled out.
