Till Death Do Us Part
Now that Eliza believed I was gone, I thought that—even if she hated me—out of respect for what we once shared, she would at least bury me properly.
But before I could feel any comfort, she suddenly gave a sharp cry. The urn slipped from her hands, and my ashes scattered across the floor.
Eliza's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Oops. My hand slipped."
Then she lifted her foot and ground her high heel mercilessly into the ashes.
My breath caught. I stared into her half-smiling eyes, opened my mouth, but no sound came.
Not until my ashes were pressed deep into the cracks of the floor, mingling with dust and dirt, did she finally withdraw her foot, satisfied.