A Medic-alert bracelet with the letters H-I-V on it.
Surgical tools and an empty syringe.
An incredulous toddler peering at you from the doorway while his little mind is shredded into what I’d imagine would be the kind of schism a violent psychopath might develop from.
A blu-ray of the movie Audition.
A member of the vice squad.
Her glass eye skittering across the bedroom floor.
A package of Imodium.
Anything preserved in formaldehyde.