Syria’s POV
He let go of Grandma.
Her body collapsed to the floor.
I scrambled toward her, my hands shaking as I crawled across the cold floor.
"Grandma? Please wake up… please..."
My voice trembled.
I gently shook her shoulder, hoping, begging, for a sign of life.
But she didn’t respond.
Her chest moved just barely. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow. It was like her soul had already drifted far away.
My heart dropped.
I tried to lift her, even just to cradle her against me, but her weight felt too much.
And then I looked up.
There he was. My uncle. Just standing there. Watching.
He had that disgusting smirk on his face, like he was proud of what he’d done.
Like he was admiring a masterpiece.
My stomach turned. My blood boiled. My tears streamed down
