Suddenly, a startled shout pierced the dry air.

"There's someone buried under the sand!"

Theodore heard the shout and rushed over like a madman. He stumbled several times along the way, but each time, he clawed his way back up. At last, he reached the spot the person had pointed out. A piece of fabric was poking out from beneath the sand.

Theodore's heart felt as though it was being gripped by an invisible hand. His gaze was filled with confusion and fear as waves of despair and anguish surged within him, drowning his soul.

With a thud, he fell to his knees and put his trembling hands into the sand. He frantically started scooping away the sand, his hands still shaking. He was overwhelmed by panic and dread. Every heap of sand being shoveled away felt like the ticking of an endless clock, tearing his heart into countless pieces.

"Mr. Spencer, please don't do this."

Two foreign men stepped forward, attempting to pull him back.

Theodore's hands were bloodied from digging. His fingers were covered in wounds and some of his nails had been torn off.

me! Let

fell back to his knees, continuing to dig into the sand. His fingertips scraped

we'll use tools to dig.

"You might hurt her! Step back-all of you,

though he was possessed, frantically clawing at the ground, having lost

people around didn't

say. They had considered telling him that anyone buried would likely be a corpse by now, so it wouldn't matter if they

the verge

of them donned gloves and

cleared away the

body emerged before

corpse had already started to decompose, emitting a foul stench. A few w of the men lifted their hands to cover their noses, their faces etched

it isn't Miss Young. Don't

halted, and his gaze fell upon the figure before him. It wasn't Rosalie but a thin, frail man. This man

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