“Catalina,” a voice whispered her name, the sound slithering around her, making her shiver, “Cataliiinnaaa,” it sings, repeating itself again and again, it was not a sound that was welcoming, but one that intended to frighten. And she was terrified. But she had no control over her body, the soft malevolent chant of her name drew her to her parents’ room, her feet moving of their own accord. She stretches out her hand, finger tips meeting the cool, rough wooden panel, tentatively pushing it open inch by inch. And there, on the bed, are her parents.

They lay splayed out on their pallet, blood soaking the straw and cloth used for blankets. Their eyes are wide and glazed in a frozen expression of horror and death. Their necks are severed, barely attached to their bodies which have been mauled by something. Her face is a mask of sheer horror as she looks upon her beloved family, massacred in their own home. A deep horrendous laugh echoes from the corner of the room, her eyes drawn to the form.