She turned when the lights went out. Her heart jumped in her chest. Scaredy-cat. Such a bad thrill-seeker.

Then the yelp. Lights on. The joke - self-admonishment - was forgotten.

Mitsuki stared. Akira was bleeding. Blood dripped. Slowly. 

And she turned to the painting. Rips and tears. Paint, or blood, or paint that was blood. Douglas was dead.

She turned back.

She opened her mouth but could not speak. There was a buzzing in her ears.

She tried again.

"No shit."