Shivers by Jamie Page and Brandon Nichols

The calm of a suburban evening is shattered by a horrific murder. An average man and his beautiful wife are dead, killed in a horrific orgy of blood. A child is missing, and a disturbed man in a police interrogation room holds the key to everything. A detective is driven to arrive at the truth, but how can he possibly find truth in the mind of a man so deranged?

Warning: This eBook contains extremely disturbing and bloody imagery and is inappropriate for most children. Adults should read it in its entirety before allowing a teenager in their care to read this horror story.

Here is a preview:

“Chelsea’s grin. You cut the corners of the mouth and when the victim screams, she makes the cuts bigger so it’s a permanent grin.”
“I thought that was a Glasgow grin.”
“Fuck, I never heard that.”
The cartoonish evil smile might have been the least disturbing aspect of the body. Matted hair stuck to her face, and then the smile, but from there down the sight was a butcher shop horror. Blood—dull greyish black in the photographs—covered the fabric of her pajamas, what was visible.
“Her top—was it cut or torn open.”
“You mean the pajamas?”
“Yeah.”
“I got the usual bullshit about not knowing for sure until he gets to the lab, but it looks like the fucker cut the buttons off. He wasn't looking for titties, though.”
No. He wasn't  Stab wounds covered her neck and throat, at least a dozen of them. Arterial spray painted the walls behind and to the left of the body. Her eyes remained open, and the detective shook his head.
“Was there any evidence of sexual assault?”
“He couldn't see any at the scene. At least no vaginal or anal. We won’t know about oral until they’re done taking the barbed wire off. They haven’t checked the wound yet, but…well fuck I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Yeah.” He didn't want to think about it either. He scanned downward at the main wound. “Was she alive?”
“No way to tell, but probably not. Once he cut open her chest, the blood would've stopped pumping, wouldn't have made the mess on the walls.”
The detective looked at the hole between her breasts, the jagged tear and the protruding ribs. “Good.” He pointed at the pool of blood beneath her wrists. “Could have bled out here, too.”
“Yeah, struggles with the wire and it slices the wrists.”
“What’s that?”
“The barbed wire. She could have struggled—”
“Not that.” He pointed to her blood-soaked lap. “What’s that?”
“Jesus, Patton. You gonna make me say it? That’s her fucking heart.”

Buy it here.