Rain fell steadily through the trees.
It had started as a light drizzle earlier, but now it came down harder, soaking the ground and turning the soil into dark mud.
Cherie stood in front of the shallow grave she had spent the last few hours digging.
The hole was uneven. The edges were rough and collapsed in places. The pile of dirt beside it looked messy, like it had been thrown aside in a rush.
It was far from perfect.
Of course it was.
Cherie lifted her hands slightly and stared at them.
Dirt packed under her fingernails. Mud smeared across her palms and knuckles. The skin around her fingers was red and raw from clawing at the ground with a dull shovel.
Her chest rose and fell slowly at first.
Then her breathing began to stutter.
She tried to steady it, but every breath felt heavier than the last.
Cherie bit down on her bottom lip.
The pressure was supposed to stop the shaking.
It did not.
Her lip quivered anyway.
In front of her, Hailey's body lay on the wet ground.
