My Skin Needs Touch, Their Stomachs Turn novel Chapter 112

Chapter 8

Turns out, vanity is universal.

Bernard stared, jaw dropping, as I laid cucumber slices over Eleanor’s burnt face.

“You old bat,” he muttered.

“We’re here to scare the new daughter-in-law, not get a facial.”

I shot a glare at the Boss, hung up on one word.

“Wait, ‘new’ one? Were there others before me?”

The Boss froze. Dark smoke poured off him like exhaust.

Desperate to prove himself, he reached out and-rip-tore his mother’s head right off her shoulders.

Talk about a dysfunctional family.

He gave me a sheepish, lopsided grin.

“There wasn’t anyone else,” he promised.

“Meg killed them before they even got in the door.”

Eleanor slammed her head back onto her neck and fixed her cucumber slices.

She glared at her husband from empty sockets.

“Shut your trap, you old fool. Go start dinner.”

He did as he was told, shuffling toward the kitchen, dragging his sack and a trail of heavy, wet ‘rope’ behind

him.

Red slime instantly smeared the floorboards I’d just scrubbed.

Meg stood up, trying to wiggle out of dinner.

“Grandma, no offense, but Grandpa’s cooking is gross.

A slimy gut flew from the kitchen, coiling around her waist before she could finish

Bernard’s cackle rang out.

“Don’t be silly, sweetie. Come help me stir.”

Chapter 8

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I eyed the mess on the floor and sighed.

“Seriously, why won’t Dad fix that sweater? It’s unraveling everywhere.”

I headed to the bedroom for my sewing kit.

By the time dinner was ready, I was armed with a needle and thread.

I set the table, then cornered Dad.

“Dad, stay still. Let me get that hem. You’re dragging that yarn everywhere-someone’s gonna trip.

“And the dye is running all over my clean floors.”

The four monsters looked at each other, baffled.

Realization hit the chat feed.

[Wait. Alice isn’t fearless.]

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