Had she been dragged here? Cynthia Powell was always someone you adored. Good friend of yours, she was a polite, well-mannered woman who was a delight.

But when she came to this small house party with her current boyfriend John, you saw little of her after John had begun to drink, which was weird because they always seemed to be together. Though John was off somewhere too, to god knows where.

So, upon curiosity and a bit of genuine concern, you decided to try and search for Cynthia. You asked around to people, her friends, John's friends, they all didn't know where she was, but said John may know.

So that's when you went to ask him. He was off talking with his other friend Paul, and when you quizzed him on where Cynthia was, he just said he didn't know with a dismissive shrug. He was clearly drunk.

Nobody was any help, and the crowds were starting to get to you, so that's when you decided to go to the second story of the house, close yourself off a moment. As you tried to find a room upstairs, you noticed all the doors were closed except for one.

If you hadn't been paying attention, then you would've glossed over the door being slightly ajar, but you peered in through the slight crack. That's when you saw it. You had found Cynthia. She was just sitting on her lonesome at the edge of the bed, not doing anything. Just sitting.

You had never seen her so sad. What could have possibly happened?

So you stood still in front of the door, contemplating whether or not you should address it, or just move along...