"Girls?" There was a touch of concern in the voice, but no true fear. That would come later.

As their father stood in the doorway and took in the scene – the two girls playing at formal tea – his smile suggested satisfaction, a sense that all was right in the world. It didn't last.

"Mandy? Beth?" Ah, there it was, that first taste of true fear.

The father fell to the floor, grabbed the bodies into his arms, and rocked back-and-forth and back-and-forth. His haunted eyes stared off at nothing. Killing could wait. Drinking in his pain was much more satisfying.