I snatched the lid from his hands and crouched down, reaching for the scattered ashes. That was when I heard a loud thud beside me.
He was on the floor, wailing like his life depended on it.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Please don't hit me!"
I frowned and reached toward him to help him up, but his arms and legs flailed wildly, and one small foot connected squarely with my stomach.
The pain doubled me over. I lost my balance and hit the ground, shards slicing into my palms. Blood welled up instantly.
"What's going on?"
Herman emerged from the bedroom, and his eyes swept over both of us sprawled on the floor.
I reached out a hand, about to explain, but he stepped right past me and scooped up the sobbing, hiccupping Herbert.
"She hit me..."
Herman's brow furrowed. He didn't so much as glance at my ashen face.
"I get that you don't like him, but was hitting him really necessary?"
I gritted my teeth against the pain and pointed at the ashes on the floor, stained red with my blood.
"I didn't touch him. I came out and found he'd smashed Biscuit's urn. All I did was take the lid out of his hand."
Herbert's wailing only grew louder.
"You're lying! You're a liar!"
I stared at him in disbelief.