Stephanie Poore

I saw who I thought was Mark. going into the house, coming out of the house, putting stuff in the back of the hatch.

Because it was his hat and his jacket. He opened the door to the car, looked at the front windshield, grabbed something off the front, and then just tore, like literally tore down the driveway.

I explained it away that Ding must have ripped her stitches out, out here.

I could smell the bleach before I even opened the door.

It was blood. It was red, dark, dark red.

She was on all fours and she was growling. Something had happened to her. Maybe she had had a stroke. It was obvious one eye was in a horrible mess. We couldn't find Mark. I was calling him. I left a message, Mark, we're really concerned. Where are you? You know, why is Ding here?

I can only describe it as evil. something horrible, something terrible. I knew something bad had taken place.

And they were upset and it was loud.

Um, something was going on over there and I wanted to get some more sleep and I was going to have words with Mark.

I remember being woken up early in the morning by a hellacious barking.

And I'm on the phone leaving a message with him and he's in the driveway. The car is in the driveway, parked up by the house. And I'm thinking, wow, that's weird because he really, he's probably going to be, you know, a little antsy because he would have rather been gone by now.

I saw who I thought was Mark going into the house, coming out of the house, putting stuff in the back of the hatch.

Because it was his hat and his jacket, and why wouldn't I think it was Mark?