What happened?

Marshall took a few moments to stabilize himself. Those moments in which he was panicked felt like a cross between seconds and hours. In reality, only five or so minutes had passed.

The sloshing of his soiled pants was dampened by his grunts as he walked towards the door. While looking at the wood, Marshall noticed there were striations in the moldings.

'These weren't there before,' he thought while sucking in a cold breath. A sibilant crack occurred as saliva returned to his mouth.

'I was drooling over myself?'

The lack of control Marshall exhibited, as a young man, perturbed him. He wondered if his entire life had made him a coward. From the depths of his loins a fire began to rage. Either it was from the urine or his unstable emotion, but Marshall dared to open the door.

Cre~eaak!

The door called out as he opened it. It hadn't the problem of a whining noise before what ever monstrous creature assailed it.

Ee~ark.

The door whined as it settled into place. Marshall had managed to open the door just enough where he could peer around it less a mishap occur.

"What," the young man started, "the fuck?"

His question rest in the air as he looked down at the carcass of what used to be an animal. It's body was badly lacerated, mottled with fur that seemed to sloth off, and reeking of a smell that couldn't be described.

A smear of colors, white, brown and red, dye the wall perpendicular to where the creatures head should have been. Fragments of grey bones awash the floor completed a ghastly painting. The only identification for the creature lay by its neck, still pooling a lake of blood on the hard wood, in the form of a collar.

'This fucking thing was a dog,' Marshall asked himself knowing full well the answer. He dared not to speak in case any other pet was grossly mutated.

Curiosity pulled him to walk further out the room. He took gentle steps over the body of the "dog" while staring at its headless nub.

Looking to the opposite side of the corpse, Marshall recognized the vantage from where the dog had been shot. Across the way, where the T.V. was placed, there was an overlooking building. The window that faced the building gave a clear view to the door to Marshall's bathroom. It was only this window that shattered.

Luckily the sound of the gunshot seemed to drive any other mutated creatures towards its sound. However, Marshall's steps couldn't always remain quiet. There were still the sharp sounds of old wooden joints in the floor aching under his weight. All the curses in the world couldn't begin to describe Marshall's anger when the floor made the noise. Especially now that it truly mattered.

A strong urge to yell began to form in Marshall's mind. The desire to simply resist the confusion and reject the present was almost intoxicating. A moment of pleasure, for an eternity of pain, there were no words truer for the occasion.

'Cool,' he thought to himself. His copper hands had found their way into a fist. 'Stay cool.'

It would be easy for Marshall to end his worries himself. Walk to the shattered window and leap off. Yet, a sense of responsibility grew in his developed mind. Marshall was always determined to take care of his responsibilities, and whomever saved him deserved some help too.