Chapter 2 Stolen farewell

When Anna opened her eyes, a wave of disorientation swept over her. The air was cold, sharp with the scent of fresh earth and wilting flowers. She blinked, her vision blurred by the tears that clung to her lashes, and then the realization hit her-this wasn't her home.

Her heart pounded as panic clawed its way into her chest. She sat upright, her gaze darting around. A small crowd had gathered nearby, their faces somber yet distant, like specters in a half-remembered nightmare.

"Dad! Where are you?" Anna screamed, her voice hoarse, trembling with desperation.

"Oh, she's finally awake," Leticia Lovelace, her uncle's wife, muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Anna's head snapped toward Leticia, her words barely registering. Slowly, she turned and took in the scene around her-the towering headstones, the mound of fresh dirt, the grave. Her breath hitched, and her body felt as if it had turned to stone.

"Where is my dad? What did you do to him?" she cried, her voice breaking as her eyes darted from Leticia to her uncle Whittaker. Her words were jagged, each one a fragment of her unraveling heart.

They said nothing at first, their silence cutting deeper than any words could. Anna staggered to her feet, her legs shaky as the cold, unyielding truth dawned on her.

She stumbled toward the grave, her knees sinking into the freshly turned soil. She stared at the headstone, her vision blurring as the carved letters of her father's name became clear. The earth had already been sealed, the finality of it crushing her chest like a vice.

"No..." she whispered, her voice thin, a mere breath against the weight of her grief.

She felt the world closing in around her, a suffocating void where her father had once been. Her hands clawed at the soil as though she could dig him back to life, as though she could reverse the cruel, unrelenting tide of death.

"What right do you people have to bury my dad?" she screamed, the words tearing from her throat like shards of glass. Her cries echoed through the cemetery, raw and untamed.

Driven by a surge of anguish, Anna leapt to her feet and charged at her uncle. She grabbed Whittaker by the collar, her fingers trembling but firm. "Why?" she wailed, her face contorted in agony. "Why did you bury him without me? Why would you do this?"

Whittaker stared back at her, stunned into silence, his hands raised in weak defense. Leticia stormed toward them, her expression twisted with irritation. She grabbed Anna by the arm and yanked her away with an almost cruel force.

"You decided to sleep," Leticia snapped, her tone sharp and unfeeling. "We helped you by burying him. Can't you thank us instead?"

Anna recoiled as though Leticia's words had physically struck her. She looked at them both, their faces now unfamiliar, cold, and devoid of the warmth they once feigned. Their masks had slipped. They had always pretended to care, but now their indifference was glaring.

Her knees gave out, and she crumpled to the ground beside her father's grave. She pressed her hand against the freshly packed soil, her fingers curling as though trying to touch him one last time. A low, guttural sob escaped her lips, and the dam finally broke.

The memories of her father poured over her like a flood-his reassuring voice, the way he always hugged her like she was his whole world, the way he used to laugh with her on quiet afternoons. Those moments, once a source of comfort, now pierced her heart like daggers.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" she whispered, her voice trembling as her tears soaked the earth. Her hands dug into the soil, her nails scraping against the dirt as though she could somehow unearth him, bring him back.

Her body felt drained, hollow. The weight of her despair pressed down on her, suffocating her under its relentless hold. She curled into herself, resting her cheek against the mound of dirt, her breath hitching with every sob.

She felt her hatred simmering beneath her grief-a white-hot loathing for her uncle and his wife. They had stolen from her the one thing she had left: the chance to say goodbye, to hold his hand one last time, to let him know she loved him. The exhaustion of it all overwhelmed her. Her sobs softened into quite gasps, and her tears slowed, leaving only the hollow ache in her chest . She lay there on the grave , lost in the whirlwind of her pain and let sleep overtake her.