Marcie stopped on the threshold, and had to take a steadying breath. She had been crying to damn much over the last two days, that she was determined to keep herself calm today. She had a job to do, and was going to see it done. Much had offered to come with her even, to hold her hand, but she needed to do this alone.
She hoped he didn't look grotesque. She hoped he wasn't twisted in the horror of his death to become something unrecognisable.
"Is it very bad?" she asked, thinking of the gaping gash in his neck and the blood all down his front and over his legs.