#Chapter24
Los Angeles, one year before the Chosen Killings
The older man's head had joined the others atop the sharpened staves.
Piggy was currently stooped over by the wall behind the diorama, dipping a paint brush into the bucket that the head had fallen into after the guillotine blade had separated it from its body. He wore an artist's apron over a t shirt and jeans. Breathing through his mouth, shooing away flies, Piggy raised the brush and slathered blood onto the wall, filling in and adding to another silhouette of the dancing boys.
In Kacey's mind, the image of that man lying on the wood, his head in the block, the sound of the blade descending, slicing, but most of all the sound of that head thumping into the bucket… replayed over and over and over again. Each time she felt that she would puke but at this point she had nothing to throw up.