Chrissy Sutherland

56%
Flag icon
When my eyes reached Harold, I couldn’t help but be reminded of his father. The woman’s intestines were tangled around his body, and her blood was stuck to various parts of him and his clothing. He’d seen fit to remove one of her ribs and sat grinding his rotten teeth against each side of it.
Son of the Slob
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview