Rattling

The broken door was shut tightly, cutting off the streak of moonlight outside. It symbolized her last vestiges of hope being severed. Annabelle was shoved to the ground as she gritted her teeth. She struggled to extend her hand, preparing to end all this pain with the small knife she had always been hiding in her pocket. She never failed to tell her daughter, "Keep moving forward. The day will surely dawn." However, the darkness was just too long, and she could not see the light. Annabelle closed her eyes and was ready to end her life when the wooden door was kicked open. The moonlight spilled in. Standing at the door was a small figure holding an axe. The seven-year-old Lucille had a cold expression. An unprecedented hatred burst out from her innocent eyes. Basking in the light, the men preparing to attack turned their heads and saw Lucille's axe dripped with blood. At this moment, Lucille did not resemble a seven-year-old child but akin to the spirit of death lurking out from hell to