I woke up with a handprint on my chest and back after a night of good sleep, and I have no idea how it got there. I was home alone for the night, and the handprints were bigger than mine.

She placed her hands on her hips, posing while the blood dripped down her ivory lace dress. She was proud of herself.

Ryan Murphy is dangerously close to catching these hands.

Guy who was my lab partner in high school wrote me a note (complete with picture) that said, “I will kill you and make a sofa out of your skin.” With no context. I still have the note. A few years later he murdered a coworker.

“Abby is in a better place now.”

I was wrong.

“Well. A person. Which is all the more lively as I’m upstairs in my house.”

“There are doors there the likes of you and me don’t know how to open, not on purpose.”

Most people who don’t wear tinfoil hats don’t believe in vast government conspiracies, however, they probably haven’t heard of these ones.

Sometimes, real-life murders are so startling and so brutally terrifying that they inspire entire movie franchises.

Oh, what, you’re a white, cis man and you can’t navigate the world made for you? Walk into the river, you’re useless.