I crept towards the darkened room, my heart racing. My eyes madly darted around, looking for any movement at all. Giving one last glance over my shoulder, I quickly duck into the study. I rumage around the floor, looking in every box, for my torch. A spot of light falls on my hands. I look up, wondering where it could have come from. My computer is set up on the desk. I didn't remember getting it out. Then I see it wasn't what was reflecting the light. An ornate knife, its wickedly sharp blade glinting in the moonlight, was stabbed into the wall. I slowly got up, walking uncertainly over to it. Its handle was made of carved black jade, stark in contrast to the bright silver blade. It pinned another note underneath it. I tried tugging the knife free, but it was stuck tight, so I carefully dragged the paper down, trying hard not to rip it up.
It was another poem.
At last
We have found the light
We have ended the madness
We found who was behind the mask
We are not alone
The last line of the poem was missing, torn away from the rest of it. I looked around for it, unsure as to where it could be. Then the computer screen flickered into life. I stopped dead in my tracks. There was no power to it. And yet it was on, showing the background of Monika's room. But there was no Monika. Instead, there was a picture of the last line of the poem, written in blood.
'We found you'