Ignoring the elders, I glanced at the staff member, and with a quick nod, he pressed the button. The cremation chamber roared to life, fire licking the metal doors.
That was all it took for Nancy to completely lose it. With a wild scream, she tore free from the people holding her down, charging toward the controls like a woman possessed. Her hands slammed down on the button, cutting off the fire before it could do any real damage.
The room froze, stunned by her sudden ferocity. And then, in the chaos, Thomas lunged at me. His hands wrapped around my throat with such force I could barely breathe. “Get my son out!” he roared, his spit spraying across my face. “Or I’ll kill this bitch!”
Through the suffocating grip, I caught the eye of my cameraman in the distance. He gave me a reassuring nod, the camera was still rolling, capturing everything. Perfect.
The staff rushed to pull William from the chamber. He had only been there for a few seconds, but it was enough to singe his skin. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air—putrid and thick.
Nancy, her face a mask of horror, ran forward to smother the flames that had started to burn on William’s arms. Thomas shoved me aside, his strength fueled by pure desperation, sending me crashing into the scorching stretcher. The pain was instant and searing as my palms sizzled against the hot metal. Blood welled up as the skin peeled away, but I bit back my scream, letting only a tear or two escape for dramatic effect.
The onlookers, already shaken by the chaotic scene, were now filled with pity. A woman approached me, helping to bandage my burnt fingers. “Poor girl,” she whispered sympathetically, “your in-laws are clearly out of their minds from grief. Once this is over, you should take them to the hospital. They’re not well.”
I nodded, playing along, my voice soft and broken. “William was their only child... it’s no wonder they’re acting like this. But me and my daughter will do our best to take care of them now that William is gone.”
Nancy, her face twisted in fury, screamed, “Shut up! If my son has even the tiniest scratch on him, you’ll regret it!”
But it was already too late. William’s body, though pulled from the fire, was marred by charred patches of skin. The scent in the air was unbearable, a sickening mix of burnt flesh and desperation. Even now, in death—or the pretense of it—he was as repulsive as he had been in life.