He told me to kneel alone in front of the altar and pray for Janice's recovery while they wandered off.
By the time midnight rolled around, I couldn’t hold out anymore. I collapsed on the cold stone floor and passed out.
When I came to, I saw Roy moving hurriedly toward a corner of the temple.
That’s when I noticed what was in his hands: a small urn.
My heart seized. I ignored the pain in my body and rushed forward, ripping the urn from his grip.
“This is my child’s ashes!” I cried. “What are you doing with it?”
Roy frustratingly sighed, “The spiritualist said Miss Brewer is being haunted by a child’s spirit, so Mr. Stanley asked me to bring the ashes so the spiritualist could take care of it.”
I clutched the urn tightly, refusing to let go. “No!”
He didn’t dare to fight me for it. Instead, he called Alexis.
“Halle,” he said when he arrived, “just listen to me. Give me the urn.”
I blinked back tears, my voice trembling. “Alexis, this was your child, too! How can you be so heartless? Janice—”
Before I could finish, he slapped me. His hand shook slightly afterward, like maybe—just maybe—he felt a shred of regret.