Sean wasn't sure what to do about the window.

It was broken, yes, but that wasn't the problem; the problem was, well, the problem was that the glass was on the outside of the house, which he knew through simple logic meant the window had been broken from the inside and since he was the only one in the house... clearly this assumption no longer held any weight. Windows don't just shatter.

Or did they? Sean wasn't sure.

He resisted the urge to bite his nails, a nasty habit he'd had to force himself to break; he couldn't be leaving nail clippings with his saliva on them all over town. Too easy to track, especially with all the newfangled DNA technology. When did things get so complicated, Sean thought. But then he remembered the intruder: someone must have gotten in some other way and then accidentally broken the window. Closer inspection of the scene revealed blood on the sill and his ottoman on its side; they must have tripped, he decided.

A rustle downstairs.

Sean creeped toward the basement door and silently opened the door.

Light.

Someone was down there.

He could hear muffled sobs, and as he slinked down the stairs, a woman came into view. She was crying. She didn't notice him until he was on the last step, and she let out a scream. Sean panicked and lunged at her over the table between them, swiftly pinning her against the wall and breaking her neck. Her body slumped to the floor.

Sean caught his breath, then looked at the intruder, now corpse.

She looked so familiar.

He reached for her purse and looked for an ID. Susan Young, it read. He let out a gasp and spun around. The body the intruder had been standing over was Susan Young's; but no, this didn't make sense, if Susan Young was dead, how could he have killed her again? Their faces were identical; Sean reached for the second Susan Young's purse again to look for other clues, but it was gone. Her body was gone. Suddenly, behind him, he heard crying. Susan Young was standing over Susan Young's body again, on the other side this time. Sean let out a frustated yell and pulled his knife out of his pocket, reaching over the table and stabbing her multiple times until she died, again. When she appeared on the other side of the room, Patrick ran at her once more, weaving through the mess of tables in his basement, but when he reached her, she was gone again. Sean realized none of this made sense, and rammed the knife into his chest as hard as he

--

"He was schizophrenic, I'm afraid."

"Figures."
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