Buried in Guilt

My rage and sobbing echoed within the confines of the box, a small, suffocating space that now felt like a coffin. The horrifying image of Mother Agatha's lifeless body lying on the floor replayed in my mind, tormenting me. The gunshots were lethal, and there was no doubt that they killed Mother Agatha. The realization sent a wave of numbness through me, followed by an overwhelming surge of fury.