Dad spat on the floor. "Cold-blooded animal. Why would you expect her to have feelings?"
Finally, an elderly aunt couldn't watch anymore. She gently took the towel from my hand. "Naomi... you can't wipe that clean. The injury is too deep. Just help us put her clothes on."
With her help, I dressed Grandma in her burial clothes.
As the adrenaline faded, black spots danced across my vision. The room tilted. I collapsed to the floor.
When I woke up, my head was throbbing. My skin felt like it was on fire.
I was still in my wet clothes. They had dried stiff and cold against my skin, making me shiver violently. The pungent stench of manure filled my nose. A glance around confirmed it—I had been thrown into the cowshed.
Panic surged. *Grandma.*
I scrambled to my feet, stumbling toward the main hall. But Grandma was gone.
The bed in the center of the room had been replaced by a heavy black coffin.
My father knelt on the floor dressed in white mourning robes, burning paper money in a brazier.
A wail tore from my throat. "Grandma! Where is she? Why is she gone? Grandma!"
*Slap!*