The next second, he kicked me in the stomach. I cried out in pain, and my grip loosened.
The urn suddenly fell and hit the ground.
The lid came loose and fell off. The urn rolled a few times, and the ashes inside scattered on the concrete floor, glaringly bright.
In an instant, I almost lost all sensation of pain. My eyes saw only the blinding gray and white.
My screams echoed in the hallway.
Ignoring my stomach, I knelt on the ground, throwing myself over the ashes.
Jay raised his chin and ordered the bodyguards.
Then, a bodyguard on each side lifted my body.
My eyes were fixed on the scattered ashes of my daughter. My mouth kept opening and closing, but I had no strength to make a sound.
Jay lowered his voice and threatened, "Where is Chloe? Speak! I'm giving you one last chance."
I seemed not to hear him, my whole body stiff and dazed.
He kept nodding and saying, "Fine, fine. You won't talk, right? You like ruining others' faces, huh?"
Jay took a bottle of medical alcohol from a bodyguard and poured it on the ground, mixing it with the ashes into a muddy paste.
He bent down, scooped up a handful, and smeared it forcefully on my face.