Love's Shadow: A Bitter End

I had been dead for a year, my spirit tethered to my daughter, Emma, watching over her in the orphanage.

Then, the director called my ex-husband, Elroy, for Emma' s urgent medical treatment, but he coldly refused, telling her, "Then let her die. It would be a convenience. She can go join her short-lived mother."

A week later, Emma died at five years old, because her father wouldn' t spare the money to save her.

Days later, Elroy arrived at the orphanage, believing I had faked Emma' s death to manipulate him. He pulled back the sheet covering her small body, sneering, "Very realistic. A good prop."

He then picked up our daughter' s body, carried her outside, and tossed her into a dumpster, scattering raw meat around it, taunting, "Let's see how long this prop lasts when the stray dogs find it." My spirit screamed, but I was powerless as dogs tore at her.

He believed I was alive, orchestrating a sick game, but I was a ghost, a silent, screaming witness to his monstrous cruelty. Why did he hate us so much?

Then, I saw him with Ivonne, his childhood sweetheart, heavily pregnant, and the horrifying truth clicked: he had a new family, and he wanted Emma' s heart for his new daughter.

Chapter 1

I have been dead for a year. My spirit has been lingering, unable to leave, tethered to my daughter, Emma.

The director of the orphanage called Elroy Ayala. She told him our daughter, Emma Morris, was seriously ill. She needed fifty thousand dollars for treatment.

Elroy was with his new love, Ivonne Walton. I watched through the phone line as he held her, his voice cold and distant.

"Fifty thousand? Tell Annis to stop playing these games."

"Mr. Ayala, this isn't a game. Emma is very sick. She could die."

He laughed. It was a sound I used to love, but now it was just ugly.

"Then let her die. It would be a convenience. She can go join her short-lived mother."

The line went dead.

A week later, Emma died. She was only five years old. She died because her father, the man who once promised me the world, wouldn't spare the money to save her.

My spirit cried, but no tears came out. I couldn't touch her. I couldn't hold her. I could only watch as the life faded from her small body.

Days later, Elroy arrived at the orphanage. He looked annoyed, impatient. He was carrying a bag of expensive baby supplies, the kind he never bought for Emma.

He strode into the director's office without knocking.

"Where is she? Where is Annis? Tell her the trick is over."

The director, a kind woman with tired eyes, looked at him with a mixture of grief and fury. "Mr. Ayala, Emma is dead."

"I know, I know," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "That's part of the act. Now, where is the little brat's body? I want to see it."

He still believed I was alive, that I had staged our daughter' s death to get his attention, to manipulate him.

The director' s face went pale. "You are a monster."

"Just show me," he demanded, his voice rising.

Heartbroken, the director led him to the small, cold room where they kept Emma's body. She was lying on a metal gurney, covered by a thin white sheet.

Elroy pulled the sheet back without any gentleness. He stared down at Emma's still, pale face. He poked her cheek with his finger.

"Very realistic," he sneered. "A good prop. Where did Annis get it? Tell her she' s getting better at these games. But it' s not enough to move me."

I floated above, a silent, screaming witness. That' s our daughter, Elroy. Our child.

He then did something that shattered the last piece of my spectral heart. He picked up Emma's small, light body.

"What are you doing?" the director gasped, reaching for him.

His bodyguard shoved her back.

Elroy carried Emma outside, his face a mask of cruel satisfaction. He walked to the back of the orphanage, to the large, stinking dumpsters.

Without a moment's hesitation, he tossed her body inside, onto a pile of garbage.

"Now for the final touch," he said, pulling out a small bag of raw meat from his pocket. He scattered it around the dumpster. "Let's see how long this prop lasts when the stray dogs find it."

He was taunting me, the person he believed was hiding and watching.

My spirit lunged forward, trying to shield Emma, trying to push him away, but my hands passed right through him. I was nothing. I was air.

The dogs came quickly, drawn by the scent. They jumped into the dumpster. I heard the sounds of tearing, of snarling. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't look away. It was my daughter. My baby.

"See, Annis?" Elroy called out to the empty air. "This is what you and your brat deserve. To be torn apart and forgotten. You're both trash that should have been thrown out of my life long ago."

The orphanage director stood frozen, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Elroy turned to her, his smile chilling. "Tell Annis, if she wants custody, she shouldn't play dead. My mother's memorial is next week. If she doesn't show up, I'll make sure Emma's death is a 'true death'."

He seemed so proud of his own depravity.

As I watched the dogs defile my daughter's body, a strange, terrible thought came to me. I was relieved. I was relieved that Emma was truly gone, that she would never have to suffer at the hands of this monster again.

Elroy got into his expensive car, surrounded by his bodyguards, and drove away.

My spirit, now a vessel of pure, cold hatred, followed him.

He drove to a lavish villa on the rich side of town. A woman came out to greet him. She was heavily pregnant, her hand resting on her swollen belly.

It was Ivonne Walton. His childhood sweetheart. The woman who had made my married life a living hell.