He Buried Me, But I Bloomed

chards

rnum. His shoulders jerked, and the fake, self-righteous mask he had be

h, desperately trying to string together a cohe

ammered, his voice pitching up in panic. "She was dyin

ession hardening into ab

n front of me, justifying how he had authorized the doctors

oots slipped on the wet grass as he instinctively s

sked, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "I was supposed to die s

rby tombstone. A dull *thud* echoed in the

at the roots in a display of pathetic, impotent male rage.

bulging against his collar. "She has a weak heart! You.

sound ripped

aug

It bounced off the polished granite monuments, cutting throu

d finally, completely severed the

k of dead, terrifying calm. I looked at him the same w

ersonal space. I leaned in, m

loodshot eyes. His narcissistic brain actually believed I was leaning in for a

tly, my lips hovering

ciating every single syllable w

e years ago, right before he authorized the doctors to p

into Clayton's eardrums li

struck by a high-voltage current. The memory of his own horrif

of my trench coat, ensuring not a single speck of cemetery dirt lin

d, I turned on my heel and wa

ment grew fainter with every step. I was walking out of h

t of his paralysis. Panic seized his th

ted, lunging forward

s expensive leather boot came down hard on the slick

t out from

d. He crashed hard onto his knees, his upper body slammi

trousers and white shirt. The facade of the untouchable, high-society heir was compl

s chest heaving as he sta

s away. The distance betw

biting into his soaked clothes. The physical cold was a d

the wet grass, letting out a low, guttu

ge, bright yellow New York-style taxi cab was already idl

and slid onto the worn leather seat. I di

Hills, and make sure