35
The severed feet stood on the mahogany coffee table in the middle of the sitting room. Flies buzzed around, laying their eggs inside the flesh. A deer’s head with sad, glass, eyes looked down on them from its prized position above the mantle. Alice was just grateful it wasn’t a human head; those were thankfully only mounted on the wall in the basement. The feet stank as only decomposing flesh can. If her stomach hadn’t already been in complete revolt, the smell and sight of them would have triggered her gag reflex, again. But as things stood, there wasn’t much left in her system to expel. She was becoming desensitised to the most horrendous things she could ever have imagined. A lifetime of watching gory horror movies hadn’t prepared her for any of this s**t.
Ivan paced the length of
