CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed. The pressure built in her chest and her stomach heaved. She felt empty inside.
Her tears were never-ending and she began to gag.
Her whole body shook as she bent forward and dry-heaved. She laid down on the floor, curling into herself as she continued to weep. The stab in her leg and the wound on her chest were not as painful as what she felt inside.
It was wreaking. Shattering.
How could vague memories of what you have no idea happened to be so painful? It was in fragments, making no sense, but it was real, and she knew she had done it. That child had done it. Had killed her uncle to protect someone.
She wanted to scream. Rage at the unfairness bestowed upon her. But she couldn't. She wanted to forget, but she was stupid to believe that she could be happy. She had to maybe ask Lorenzo who Vera was and Natalie.
Her weeping turned to jerky breaths as exhaustion overcame her.