He patted down the tattered clothes, his fingers brushing a pocket. Something small and metallic shifted. Sid pulled it free, two shells, still intact despite the years. He clenched them in his hand, whispering under his breath.
"You held onto these. Maybe you couldn't… maybe you couldn't do it to her. So you saved them. Damn… I get it now."
Sid rose slowly, shotgun slung across his shoulder. His jaw tightened as he looked at both father and daughter, their tragedies now spread before him. With grim determination, he muttered.
"No. You're not staying here. Not like this."
He worked outside the cabin, sweat dripping as he dug into the earth behind it. Every shovel of dirt felt heavier than the last, like the weight of their story pressed down on him. When the graves were finally deep enough, he carried the bodies out one at a time. First the father, then the daughter, his hands steady despite the ache in his chest.
