Chapter 351: Dragging Him Back
She was so exhausted she could have died in her sleep, but she forced herself to grab her phone and send a message to her boss.
"Family emergency. I need to take a half-day off tomorrow morning. Thank you, Mr. James."
She put her phone down. Not even a second later, she was asleep.
She was deep in a heavy sleep, dreaming of eating steak, drinking red wine, and listening to elegant piano music, when a sudden slap struck her across the face.
Immediately after, her mother, acting like a child, grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her violently.
"Sherry, get up! Sherry, get up! Mommy’s hungry, Mommy’s hungry! Sherry, wake up~"
She already had a cut on her forehead. Her mother, oblivious to her own strength, had slapped her right on it, and the girl felt the wound split open again.
A warm trickle of blood slid down her forehead. Afraid of getting it on the pillow, she had no choice but to bolt upright.
She wiped it with her hand. Just as she thought, it was bleeding again.
’And why can’t I see out of this eye? Is it swollen?’
She reached up and touched it. It felt like a small mound. It really was swollen.
She couldn’t help but laugh.
’I’ve been hit so many times, I’m practically an expert.’
’I just knew my eye would be swollen shut today. Good thing I asked for time off last night.’
Seeing her laugh, her mother took her hand and laughed too.
"Sherry’s laughing? Hehe, when Sherry’s happy, Mommy’s happy. Sherry, get up, Mommy’s hungry."
"Mom, you didn’t eat last night?"
"Hitting, hitting! Food, thrown!"
’No wonder she’s so hungry. Dad came home yesterday and threw her food on the floor!’
Her mother had always been slender, even when she was young. After the incident, her alcoholic, gambling, and abusive father had driven her to a mental breakdown, and the past few years had been exceptionally miserable.
When Sherry had to work and her father wasn’t home, her mother would be left alone to nibble on bread, eating sporadically, making her even more emaciated.
Looking at her skeletal mother, Sherry had to drag herself out of bed, no matter how tired she was.
"Okay, okay, I’ll go make you something to eat now. Be good. Just wait here for a little bit."
Although they had moved to Rivia many years ago, her parents were accustomed to oriental food, as was Sherry, so they still needed to eat rice from time to time.
She steamed some rice and stir-fried some shredded potatoes. After eating her fill with her mother, she dug some ice cubes out of the small fridge to press against her eye, then sat by the window in a daze.
Her gaze fell on the lake outside the window, and she suddenly remembered the man lying out there...
The sky was clear again today, with bright sunlight shining down on the earth. Sherry, her figure weary, dragged a shovel back to Damien Vaughn’s side.
"Why is he so heavy?"
She planned to drag him to the base of the small hill across the road and bury him in a hidden hole in the ground to keep the smell from spreading.
It was about 300 meters away.
Sherry tried to grab Damien Vaughn by the ankles and drag him, but at only five-foot-three and weighing less than ninety pounds, it was like trying to pull a mountain. She couldn’t budge him at all.
"So annoying. Couldn’t you have died somewhere else? Why’d you have to die here and cause me so much trouble?"
Due to chronic malnutrition, Sherry was in very poor health.
She pulled a few times but failed to move him, making herself dizzy.
She had to stop to catch her breath, and in her frustration, she gave Damien Vaughn’s leg a kick.
’If I really can’t move him, I’ll just bury him here. I’ll just have to dig the hole deeper. I have to be at work in a little over two hours. There’s no time.’
’At least it rained yesterday. The ground shouldn’t be too hard to dig.’
After resting for a moment, she turned her back to Damien Vaughn and started swinging the shovel at the grassy ground.
When Damien Vaughn opened his eyes, this was the scene that greeted him.
A frail, emaciated person—he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl—stood with their back to him, swinging a shovel over and over.
He was so thirsty, and his whole body ached. He wanted to call out, to ask her for some water, but he didn’t even have the strength to lift his eyelids.
His eyes opened just a tiny slit, and after a few seconds, he wearily closed them again.
Sherry dug for over ten minutes. The shovel handle had already rubbed blisters onto her hands. The turf was much harder than she’d imagined. How long was this going to take?
Suddenly, she didn’t want to dig anymore. It was so frustrating!
’I finally get a half-day off, and I’m so exhausted I could die. I wanted to rest, and one of my eyes is swollen shut. But here I am, digging a grave to bury someone! Cleaning up some random person’s mess!’
It was so irritating she felt like she could die. She furiously ruffled her own hair.
’Maybe I should just wait until tonight, come back, and set him on fire!’
With that thought, she tossed the shovel aside and walked back over to Damien Vaughn.
"Judging by your looks, you must be Asian too. How could you be so inconsiderate, running over here and causing me trouble? You don’t mind if I give you a cremation, do you? It’s the best I can do for you within my means, and I still have to waste my money on gasoline... Anyway, don’t blame me. Just start over on the other side. Amitabha."
After speaking, she gave Damien Vaughn a bow and turned to go home, but something suddenly gripped her ankle.
The grip was light and weak, but it still sent a jolt of shock through her.
She looked down. Damien Vaughn’s eyes were closed, his chapped lips were covered in bloody cracks, and he was muttering something.
’What’s going on? He’s... not dead?’
Damien Vaughn felt his eyelids being pried open. A very young, very thin girl with one large, darting, dark eye—the other swollen nearly shut—leaned her face down close to his.
"You’re still alive?"
Her voice was clear, and she asked him in fluent English.
’Yes. I’m still alive. But I’m so thirsty, and my body hurts so much. Please, save me. Get me some water.’
But he couldn’t speak.
He couldn’t lift his eyelids, nor could he move his lips.
The girl watched him for a moment, then let go of his eyelid and complained.
"This is getting more and more annoying."
’No, don’t go.’
Damien Vaughn tried to grab her bony ankle again, but after her complaint, the girl picked up the shovel from the ground, turned, and walked away.
The sun beat down relentlessly on his skin. Damien Vaughn was completely immobile, with no shelter whatsoever. It was agonizing.
He could clearly feel his life slipping away, bit by bit.
The girl’s footsteps grew more distant. He no longer had the strength to even open his eyes one last time. In despair, he closed them again, awaiting the arrival of death.
But unexpectedly, after some time, the girl returned.
She had gone back to get a tattered blanket. She struggled to shove it under Damien Vaughn, wrapped him up completely, tied it securely, and began dragging him, inch by inch, toward her small wooden house.
Damien Vaughn could feel his back, bottom, and legs scraping against the ground. His head was banged against it from time to time. It was painful.
But the pain also reminded him he was alive, and his heart gradually began to beat again.
He didn’t know how long they’d been moving like that when his body suddenly dropped, as if going down a slope. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and then everything became completely still.
The girl was panting heavily. She untied the blanket around him and patted his face.
"Hey, you’re still alive, right? Wake up."
Damien Vaughn used all his strength to move his mouth again.
The next second, the girl brought water and held it to his lips.
"As long as you’re alive. Here, drink."