Echoes of a broken past

rp with the scent of fresh earth and wilting flowers. She blinked, her vision blurred by

ght, her gaze darting around. A small crowd had gathered nearby, their

screamed, her voice hoarse,

Lovelace, her uncle's wife, muttere

ed and took in the scene around her-the towering headstones, the mound of fresh di

reaking as her eyes darted from Leticia to her uncle Whittaker. H

r than any words could. Anna staggered to her feet, her

at the headstone, her vision blurring as the carved letters of her father's name became cl

oice thin, a mere breath aga

r had once been. Her hands clawed at the soil as though she could dig him ba

med, the words tearing from her throat like shards of gla

rabbed Whittaker by the collar, her fingers trembling but firm. "Why?" she wailed, h

defense. Leticia stormed toward them, her expression twisted with irritatio

r tone sharp and unfeeling. "We helped you

h, their faces now unfamiliar, cold, and devoid of the warmth they once feigned. Their ma

ed her hand against the freshly packed soil, her fingers curling as though trying to to

always hugged her like she was his whole world, the way he used to laugh with her on quie

tears soaked the earth. Her hands dug into the soil, her nails scraping

r, suffocating her under its relentless hold. She curled into herself, rest

cle and his wife. They had stolen from her the one thing she had left: the chan

and her tears slowed, leaving only the hollow ache in her chest . She lay the