Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

Igaped at Colin, a chill creeping up my spine. Was he some kind of mind reader?

Without a word, I quickly averted my eyes, too scared to meet Colin’s intense gaze.

He had the air of a 19th–century European warlock, his very presence enough to set one’s heart racing in fear.

His eyes were so mesmerizing they seemed capable of drowning someone in their depths.

The driver followed Dexter in secret, watching as Dexter drove towards the outskirts of town.

Was he heading to Eternal Cemetery?

Surprised, I watched the graveyard come into view as Dexter parked and entered.

After dumping Melody, he actually came to a cemetery–how ridiculous.

“Am I… buried here?” I whispered timidly.

Colin gripped my hand tightly. “After they found your body, everyone said Dexter lost his mind. He fought with the cops over your body and got detained for twenty–four hours. After the autopsy, it was Dexter’s mother who claimed your remains for a cremation. To punish him, she didn’t tell him where your ashes were scattered. I heard he begged in the yard all night before she finally revealed it to him.”

According to Colin, Dexter had gone mad after my death. Nobody had told me about the aftermath until now.

Dexter had gone mad?

Colin and I stayed hidden in the car, watching as Dexter approached a tombstone, his figure lonely and sorrowful.

He just stood there, looking like he was about to shatter into pieces.

He placed a bouquet of roses on the tombstone.

I felt disgusted.

Don’t dirty my grave.

“He must be out of his mind, messing up my path to heaven…” I muttered under my breath, itching to curse Dexter out.

Was it because of her that I couldn’t be reborn? That I was stuck in this limbo?

“Why doesn’t he leave?” I was growing impatient.

What was he doing standing at my grave?

Dexter lingered, and Colin remained silent.

10-50

Finally, Colin spoke up. “Hmph, he often stands here all day long.”

I frowned. Dexter really was insane..

Luckily, he didn’t actually stand there the whole day.

At some point, he took a phone call, his face visibly changing before he hurriedly left.

Once he was gone, I stepped out of the car, curiously approaching my own tombstone.

I’d wondered what it would be like after death.

So this was it–staring at your own tombstone.

Bizarre.

“What?” I closed in on the tombstone, my composure shattering.

The inscription read “Beloved Wife, Phoebe“?

“Whose beloved wife? Is he even human?” I trembled with rage.

Colin wrapped his arms around me and pointed at the inscription. “Tomb of Dexter’s Beloved Wife.”

In that momerit, nausea surged within me.

Tomb of Dexter’s Beloved Wife?

Oh…

Beloved wife?

Why did he have to sicken me even after my death?

It was clearly his fault I died, but now he continues to torment me? To disturb my peace death?

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I kicked away the flowers in front of the tombstone in a fit of rage, throwing away the things Dexter had brought, and picking up a stone, I attempted to deface the inscription.

Absolutely revolting.

Colin held me tight, stopping me from further damaging the inscription. “Let him write what he wants. I won’t let you go to him, Phoebe, you belong to me.”

The bitter irony of the words “beloved wife” made me sick to my stomach.

Beloved wife? What a cruel joke.