The soft flutter of the old, yellowed photograph as it fell through the air drew my attention.
My heart clenched instantly. 'That was my grandfather’s photo!'
I reached for it, but Cheryl’s cruel grip yanked my head back by my hair, holding me in place.
Nick bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if it were nothing more than garbage.
In the picture, my grandfather stood tall in his old green military uniform, saluting with his left hand.
From somewhere in the crowd, I heard a hushed whisper of surprise, “This uniform… it looks like it’s from decades ago. Could Emily really be...”
Nick’s loud laugh cut them off. “Ha! Gotcha! I knew you were lying, but you wouldn’t admit it. Who salutes with their left hand?”
“Give it back! That’s my grandfather’s memorial photo!” I screamed, my voice breaking, tears and blood streaming down my face.
That photo wasn’t just a picture—it was the last thing I had of him.
My grandfather was wounded in his right arm during the self-defense counterattack. To keep his unit moving forward and capture an important prisoner, he cut off his own arm with a knife.
Later, he was shot in the head. But even in his final moments, barely conscious, he fired the last rocket to complete the mission.
That photo was more than an image.
It was the embodiment of my grandfather’s sacrifice, his unwavering dedication to his country.
Seeing me fall apart, Cheryl snatched the photo from my hands, her voice dripping with mockery.
"Old fool," she sneered. "Even in death, still taking up space."
She smirked as she pulled out a lighter, flicked it on, and set the photo on fire.
The flames greedily consumed my grandfather’s determined face.
"No!" I screamed, but it was too late.
With a flick of her hand, Cheryl tossed the burning photo into the air—the hot ashes scattered in the wind, landing on my face and body.
I cried out, desperately trying to catch them, but all I could grab was ash.
“Grandpa…” I whispered, curling up on the ground, clutching the ashes, sobbing in despair.
At that moment, I spotted a familiar figure. A middle-aged man in a suit approached us, surrounded by a small crowd.
It was our vice-chancellor, Nelson Grant.
Seeing him felt like a flicker of hope in the darkness. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing onto his pant leg as I sobbed, trying to explain what had happened.
But before I could get a word out, Cheryl quickly seized his arm, tearfully pointing to the small bite marks on her skin.
“Uncle Nelson, look at this! She lied, saying her dad died to avoid military training. When I caught her, she went crazy and bit me!"
Then, pretending to be hurt, she whined, "Ugh, so painful, Uncle! You’ve gotta help me!”
'Uncle?' The word hit me like a bolt of lightning, straight to my core.
The Vice-Chancellor looked down at me, bloodied and crying, then briefly glanced at Cheryl’s barely visible bite marks.
His eyes flashed with irritation as he shouted at me, “Why are you still standing there like a useless lump? Get up and go back to training! Ms. Carter, if you cause any more trouble, I’ll expel you immediately!”
The sun blazed down on my head, and I felt like every drop of blood in my body had drained away.
My body was cold, my breath shallow, but I refused to break.
Seeing me so broken, Nick sneered and leaned in close. He slowly crouched down, slapped me across the face, and sneered.
“What’s with the pretentious act, Emily? The mourning’s a lie, but you’re really just trying to please that old man, huh? How much does he pay you every time? No wonder you won’t let me touch you. So, this is it, huh? You like this kind of thing? That old man you called 'General' must be pretty wild in bed, huh?”
I was seeing red. My entire body trembled with fury.
That old man they were mocking was General Albert Harris, my father’s superior. He was my grandfather’s comrade-in-arms, and I wouldn’t let this spoiled brat insult him any longer!
With every ounce of strength I had left, I slapped Nick hard across the face.
The entire crowd froze.
Stunned, Nick covered his face as if he couldn’t believe I’d dared to fight back.
However, Cheryl was the first to respond.
