With a final painful twist, Ricky snapped Gianna’s neck off with his bare hands, frustrated by being unable to properly cut through his wife’s neck promptly like he’d promised, he’d taken to pulling her head off manually. There was a spurt of heart-blood, and the head was freed. Holding Gianna’s head aloft for all the crowd to see, he slammed it down hard on the sharpened wooden stake.

Gianna was still living her nightmare, a severed head, still alive, her eyes looking around unfocused. Why was she still alive? Gods, she’d thought this was one of the better ways to die. Why was it still so horrible?

Her daughter Joy walked up to her mother’s head on a stick, and bestowed a kiss to say a final goodbye, just like she’d been taught in school. Gianna still felt the lips of her daughter as they parted to make way for her next eldest daughter. But all Gianna could concentrate on was the sharp circle of pain from her neck stump.
By the time that her youngest partook in the ritual, some minutes later., Gianna’s severed head had finally died. But the time in between had been agony.

Finally Ricky said his final goodbyes, kissing his dead wife, and putting in a little tongue. The slightly coppery taste of her blood left a lasting impression on him. He felt sad and bitter, just like her last taste.