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They dig for what feels like hours under the pouring, frigid rain, but Rose doesn’t feel the cold at all. All she feels, honestly, is the hard metal of the shovel within her hands.
“He’s moving,” Garnet informs them, shouting over the storm. Rose and Pearl both look at the black bag next to her feet; it is wriggling, indeed. “I think we didn’t do a good enough job at killing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rose grits out. “He’ll be dead soon anyway.”
They continue digging, an uphill battle against the weather. The shovel threatens to snap under her hands. Pearl looks like she’s faring a lot better, all focus and determination and anger rightfully channeled into her duty. Garnet puts one foot on top of the plastic lump and the man inside groans, muffled. Thank the stars Pearl had had the foresight to gag him; not a single one of them wanted to hear anything he had to say. It was far too late for apologies or excuses now. She places a hand, gingerly, over her belly, and her resolve hardens.
“Maybe we should’ve just burnt him up,” Rose muses under her breath. “Thrown him into a volcano. Would save us all the hassle.”
“Garnet saw us getting caught, though,” Pearl reminds her. “Besides, you wanted this.”
“Yeah.” Rose sighs. “I did.”
They dump the man into the hole; the rain’s even started pooling at the bottom. They begin shoving dirt back into the earth, even through the poor bastard’s agonizing cries. They don’t give a shit.
“ Rose, ” the man says, finally; the sound is almost lost in the uproar.
She stands before his grave, looks down at him, and shovels in the last of the mud.