Chapter 138

With a vicious kick, Violet rolled the husband over into the puddle of scalding hot stew. He screamed at the pain, but Violet didn’t relent. She shoved her heel into the back of his head, forcing his face into the broth. Steam was starting to rise from his skin, which was redder than a ripe tomato. Finally, when the husband was totally limp, Violet hoisted him up by his collar and threw him onto the supper table. The wood cracked beneath his weight. Violet didn’t reach for her gun, but instead, grabbed a broken piece of glass. She held it to his neck and stared in the warped, swollen face of her victim.