The Ghost Bride's Game Of Revenge

Eva POV:

My stare only fueled his rage. His face twisted into a snarl. He bent down, his powerful hands gripping a jagged piece of rock, half the size of my head. He didn' t hesitate. He brought it down, with brutal force, on my already injured ankle.

A piercing scream tore through me. My body collapsed, writhing on the damp earth. The pain was blinding, all-consuming. My foot felt detached, a useless appendage. My vision blurred. I stared at him, my eyes wide with a mixture of shock and profound disappointment. This twisted, violent man was the one I loved? The one I almost died for?

"You won't ruin my wedding, Eva," he spat, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Just three days. What's three days in a cave? It's not like you're going to die."

My leg throbbed, a sickening purple rising beneath my shredded trousers. The ankle was a grotesque, unnatural angle. I felt the blackness creeping in, threatening to swallow me whole. But I fought it. I had to say it.

I struggled to lift my head, my voice barely a whisper. "I have three days, Derek. My life support... it's programmed to shut down. This isn't a game. I came back to say goodbye."

My words hung in the air, heavy and ignored.

"I wish you and Casey all the happiness in the world," I choked out, the lie tasting bitter. "Just… let me see my parents. Please. One last time."

I pictured them, their faces etched with five years of grief, grey-haired, stooped, heartbroken. The thought of them, still loving me, still waiting, was the only thing keeping me from giving in to the darkness. I dragged myself forward, inch by painful inch, pulling with my good arm, my broken ankle useless, my mangled hand searing with pain.

He watched me. Not with pity, not with compassion, but with a cold, almost detached expression. He picked up another rock. Smaller this time, but still lethal. He brought it down on my wrist, the sickening crack echoing in the confined space.

I screamed again, a raw, animal sound. My other hand, the one I had used to dig, now lay a mangled mess. He stepped closer, his voice low, mocking.

"Don't bother, Eva. They won't believe your ghost stories. Not after what Casey told them." His voice was chillingly calm. "And besides… they're already here."

My heart stopped. My blood ran cold. "No," I whispered, the word a desperate plea. "They wouldn't. They love me."

I tried to push past my broken body, to demand answers, to see them. My throat tightened. The words wouldn't come.

Then, two figures emerged from the shadows behind Derek. My parents.