Chapter 65 Digging Graves
"Do it," George barked.
A bunch of bodyguards were going at the tomb like it owed them money.
Emma's brain just shut down.
She dropped to her knees on the cold, wet ground, her hands clawing at the dirt like it was the only thing keeping her sane. Her fingers dug into the moist soil, desperate for some kind of anchor.
Her heart was a mess of despair and rage, tears streaming down her face, blurring everything. Every thud of the shovels felt like a punch to her gut. Emma was in agony.
"No! Please stop!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pure, raw despair, like her whole world was falling apart. Her cries echoed in the empty wilderness, filled with endless sorrow and fury.
"What are you doing? They're already dead!" Emma's voice trembled, her eyes filled with despair, as if she were pleading with the heartless bodyguards.
She hated George with every fiber of her being, couldn't wrap her head around why he had to be so damn cruel.
When she saw the urns of Douglas and her daughter being dug up, it felt like someone had ripped her heart out. Her body shook uncontrollably, her hands covering her face, unable to deal with the horror in front of her. She could barely breathe.
"You can't do this! Please, let them go! I was wrong! I shouldn't have hurt Lucas and Anna. If you want revenge, take it out on me. Don't mess with my daughter's and my grandfather's ashes. I'm begging you!" Emma's voice was raw. She screamed with everything she had, but her cries were drowned out by cruel laughter. She felt utterly helpless, tears streaming down, her body shaking.
She'd admit to anything, just to get those urns back!
But George didn't even glance her way. He reached out and grabbed the small, delicate urn.
"No, George, she's your daughter too. Don't..."
"My daughter?" George sneered, "I only have one kid, and his name is Lucas. As for this..."
He looked at the ashes in the glass jar and just let go. The glass shattered, and the ashes scattered.
Emma screamed, her voice filled with despair and rage. She lunged forward, her hands scraping against the rough ground, trying to gather the scattered ashes.
The pure white snow turned bright red.
The snow melted, and the tiny snowflakes vanished. Emma's last bit of hope was crushed.
Hatred! From that moment on, Emma's eyes were filled with nothing but hatred!
"George, you'll regret this!" she spat, her eyes burning with intensity as she glared at the indifferent George.
George didn't regret a thing; he felt like he hadn't gone far enough!
He turned his attention to Douglas's urn, ready to keep up his madness.
"Give it to me," George said, and the bodyguard handed him Douglas's urn.
"You can't do this!" Emma screamed, lunging forward to grab Douglas's urn, clutching it tightly to her chest.
Even with the fierce bodyguards glaring at her, she didn't back down. Her hands clung to Douglas's urn like it was her last lifeline.
The bodyguards pushed and punched her, their fists hitting like hail, but she didn't let go. Her body was in agony, but her resolve only grew stronger.
"I won't let go!" Emma's voice was hoarse, her eyes wild. Her fingers gripped the urn so tightly her knuckles turned white. She didn't care about the pain; all she could think about was protecting Douglas's ashes.
"Go ahead! Beat me to death! Grind my bones to dust!" she spat, her voice dripping with fearless madness. Even as her body was getting pummeled, a fire lit up inside her, like she was using her life to protect Douglas's dignity.
Her once-perfect teeth were now stained with bright red blood, and her whole body was screaming in pain.
Seeing this, the bodyguards swung their fists harder, hitting her with all they had. The pain crashed over her like waves, but Emma didn't care. Her eyes were wild with determination. Blood covered her face, and the wound on her forehead was gushing, but her gaze stayed locked, showing she wasn't backing down.
"Get away! Who told you to touch her!" George suddenly snapped, kicking the bodyguard away.
He crouched down, looking at Emma. She was a mess, her short hair covered in patches of white snow. Her whole body was shaking, blood staining the corners of her lips. But she still clung to the urn, refusing to let go.
George's chest tightened. Emma looked almost unrecognizable, but her eyes were still clear, and it freaked him out.
"Do you know you were wrong?"
"I know I was wrong," Emma laughed wildly, almost like a madwoman, "My biggest mistake was believing your lies, loving you for so many years."
Every word she said hit George like a punch to the gut, like someone was squeezing his heart.
"George, if you don't kill me today, I will definitely kill you to avenge my child," Emma's eyes were filled with determination.
George saw a strange spark in her eyes, something that made him feel oddly alive. At least she hadn't ignored him. What did he have to fear from her threats?
"I'll be waiting," he said, leaving those words hanging in the air before walking away.
His black figure slowly disappeared into the vast whiteness of the snow.
Emma was completely spent, collapsing by the chaotic pit, clutching Douglas's urn. Her heart felt numb from all the pain.
When would this nightmare end? Anna, who had followed, gave Emma the answer—it would never end.
Anna's eyes gleamed with malice, a cruel smile playing on her lips, savoring the brutal scene about to unfold.
She held a sharp fruit knife, its blade glinting coldly in the dim light, promising more bloodshed.
"I told you not to mess with me. Scared now?" Anna said coldly, her voice dripping with cruelty and mockery.
Emma sneered, too tired to waste her breath, "Anna, you vicious witch, if you have the guts, just kill me!"
"I'm not that cruel. But George said you ruined Lucas's face, so it's only fair to return the favor double," she said, her arm flexing as the blade slashed across Emma's cheek, instantly cutting her skin.
A sharp pain spread from her cheek, blood gushing out, sliding down her face, staining her clothes. But Emma stayed silent.
Anna's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, relishing Emma's pain.
"Bitch! You should have died earlier!" Anna said coldly, the blade cutting across Emma's face again, leaving another deep wound, blood continuously flowing.
Emma's face was instantly stained with blood, the pain crashing over her like waves. Her heart was filled with helplessness and despair. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her hands weakly covering her face.
Bright red blood flowed from between her fingers, dripping onto the ground. The blood mingled with the rain and snow, spreading more and more, glaringly vivid.
Emma lay weakly on Douglas's urn, watching the snowflakes fall. She couldn't help but think of the beautiful times she had with George.
But all of that was like the snowflakes she reached out to grasp—once she opened her hand, it was empty, leaving only unbearable pain.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
