Читать книгу Mutilated. Crypt of the Seven Angels онлайн

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Together with the question of consciousness immediately the mysterious hoarse voice said:

«You can’t even imagine what treasure you have?»

Claire immediately imagined the blade that hacked her face. She did not want to imagine anything like that, but the black fantasy did not leave the brain anywhere. These are someone’s mutual hands squeeze the knife and bring the tip to her cheek. Here is cold steel touches the skin, and the wound is revealed on it, similar to a crimson flower or a parasite, sever on face, like a large leech or jellyfish. Terrible marine parasites are also similar in brightness. Just the wounds. They, too, like scarlet parasites on your body. They are absorbed into the skin to flourish pain and blood. Clare saw in front of the closed eyelids, as a hand with a blade again and again puts cuts to her face, bending a neck, shoulders. And blood is thick dripping on a white wedding dress, which Claire never put in her life. She didn’t even see such a dress anywhere. It was too old-fashioned dress to see something similar in a showcase of a modern store.