After Lin Sanjiu cloaked herself in the black cloth once again and secured the cloth to her neck with a belt, she realized that her fingers were trembling. Even though she washed the space under her fingernails and the sides of her fingernails many times with water, she could still see the traces of dark-colored bloodstains.
The sensation she felt as she plunged her fingers into another person's disassembled limbs was one thing she felt she would never forget. She could still remember that sludgy, sticky sensation as though it had been etched in her heart through her fingers.
Meanwhile, Qing Jiuliu emptied the bucket in his hands. The smell of gasoline in the air instantly grew stronger and they could almost taste the acrid stench on the tip of their tongues. Drenched with gasoline, the expression on Sunny's dead face remained unchanged. Her widened eyes filled with incredulity were staring at the night sky. A split second before her death, that was her expression.
