Claire Lynch’s fingers trembled as they pinched the edge of the gauze.
The atmosphere in the garden of Hughes Manor was thick with morbid anticipation. It was like a public execution, or a circus freak show. The guests leaned in, their eyes gleaming with a mix of disgust and curiosity.
"Everyone, be careful!" a socialite warned, covering her mouth with a silk handkerchief. "If you are faint of heart, close your eyes! I saw her scar last week. It was at least four inches long, twisting like a worm. The skin was necrotic and bunched up. It gave me nightmares for days!"
"I heard Tanya say it got worse recently," another whispered, shuddering. "If it spread... does that mean half her face is rotted away? My god! That's too nauseating!"
"Turn your heads if you just ate! You might vomit!"
T
