Mika lowered the headless body so the open neck was pressed directly over the man's face.
"You can't breathe, can you? Your mouth is filled with your wife's blood, slowly going into your lungs, and you're coughing out blood every single second."
His voice took on a preachy, almost scriptural tone.
"This is simply what you deserve. It's the weight of all your sins and all the hatred your wife has towards you for abandoning her that's making you unable to breathe right now."
The bomber was drowning in his wife's blood.
"Merghhh! Arghhh! Nnnnm!"
He could taste it—the horrible, metallic warmth filling his mouth and stomach.
Memories flooded him: their first meeting, their first date, their wedding night, the birth of their daughter, all the plans they had made together.
Now he was literally drinking her blood while her severed head stared at him with cold, dead eyes.
He tried desperately to close his mouth, but Mika grabbed his jaw and forced it wide open.
