Chapter 82 No Evidence
Emma stumbled out of the prison, squinting against the blinding sunlight.
From the moment she got tossed into that police car, she never thought she'd see the outside world again. But here she was, free.
However, Emma remained unsettled, her heart burning with indignation, and she was determined to find the evidence to prove that Anna was the true murderer. She made a beeline for the crime scene, not wasting a second.
She had to find the evidence!
But when she got to the outskirts, the lush woods and grass were gone, replaced by a charred wasteland. The blackened trees stood like silent witnesses to a tragedy. The eerie silence seemed to mock her.
She paced the scorched earth, desperate for any clue. Her fingers brushed the ground, the charred soil reflecting her despair. Tears streamed down her face, soaking into the dry dirt.
Lost in her own world, Emma didn't notice someone watching her, their expression unreadable.
"Why did it turn out like this..." she muttered, feeling utterly helpless.
Despair consumed her. She collapsed, clutching her hair, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Nothing left at all..." Her voice was carried away by the wind, sorrow filling her heart. Her cries grew louder until she fainted, her body rolling towards the dry riverbed.
But today, the upstream reservoir had opened its gates for the city's drought!
Just as she was about to fall into the riverbed, the water surged like an awakened beast, roaring towards her.
Emma woke up to the sound of rushing water. Panic set in as the cold current enveloped her. She struggled, trying to grab onto something, but the water held her tight.
"Help!" Her voice was swallowed by the water, despair creeping in. Suddenly, a strong arm reached out, grabbing her wrist.
"Emma, hold on to me!" George's voice cut through the chaos. His face was blurred, but his eyes were like a beacon in the night.
Emma clung to his hand, feeling his strength. George pulled her out of the water, dragging her to the shore.
The water roared beside them, but George's strength and the solid ground beneath her made her feel safe.
"Don't fall asleep!" he shouted, his voice full of determination. Emma nodded weakly, her lungs burning from the cold river water.
With a heart-wrenching cough, a rush of heat surged up her throat. Blood stained the wet ground.
Emma's coughing finally subsided, but she was spent. She lay limp on the ground, her head turned to the side, blood trickling from her mouth.
Some blood soaked into the dirt, while the rest trickled down Emma's collar. The crimson stains on her white clothes were glaring. Her breathing was so shallow, it seemed like it could stop any second. Each breath looked like it took everything she had, her face twisted in pain.
George's eyes were full of panic and despair.
His fists were clenched so tight, his nails dug into his palms, unnoticed blood seeping out. Seeing Emma's pale face, he felt a crushing pain. Every cough she let out tore at his heart, a brutal reminder she was hanging by a thread.
"Emma, you gotta hang in there!" George murmured, his voice shaky, tears glistening in his eyes. Every flutter of her eyelashes was like a knife to his heart. Her life was slipping away right in front of him.
"Why did it have to end up like this..." George silently cursed himself, wishing he could take all her pain.
Why did Emma have to go after Anna?
He had promised Anna he'd take care of her for life, and he wasn't about to break that promise.
But he couldn't understand why Emma kept going after Anna, and he always let Emma off the hook. He could never be harsh with her. So, he secretly got Wayne to defend Emma.
He was terrified of finding more dirt on Emma, so he ordered the crime scene to be torched overnight, to hide all the sins.
Even though Emma killed Molly, it didn't matter. As long as he was around, he wouldn't let Emma go to prison again!
He wouldn't let Emma die in prison or by someone else's hand. Because Emma was his! If she had to die, it would be by his hand!
"Hold on, I'll get you to the hospital right now!" George held Emma's cold hand, feeling her weak heartbeat. His voice was low but firm. "You have to live until I kill you!"
Emma's eyes fluttered open, but they were empty.
Night fell, the cold wind biting, Emma's body growing colder in George's arms. Her face was ghostly pale as she drifted in and out of consciousness. The wilderness around them was silent, only the wind howling, bringing a bone-chilling cold.
Her lips moved slightly, trying to say something, but only blood came out. The red liquid flowing from her lips made George's heart ache.
"Don't talk." He gently stroked Emma's cheek with his fingers, trying to soothe her pain. His tears finally fell, dripping onto her hand, the warm tears contrasting sharply with her cold skin.
"I'll get you to the hospital!" George promised in a low voice, despite the tension and anxiety in his tone. His arms wrapped tightly around Emma, trying to use his warmth to fight off her cold.
He slowly lifted her onto his back, feeling her body as light as a feather, completely powerless. Each step was a struggle, the slippery mud shifting underfoot. But George never stopped.
"Hold on, Emma, I'm right here with you." He said softly, trying to make his voice sound firm, comforting the already unconscious Emma and also himself.
Each step felt like a battle against fate, the sound of the mud under his shoes seemed to mock his helplessness.
Suddenly, George saw someone appear in front of him.
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