William slowly took the rope from Tiffany's hands. Joyce instantly grabbed his arm in a panic, her voice trembling. "William…"
She was genuinely scared.
These past few days, William's emotions had been so unstable. She dared not let him leave, even having people watch him at home.
The doctor visited many times daily. They had even called in a priest to perform a cleansing. But nothing could deter his desire for death.
William stared at the rope for a moment, then slowly raised his head to look at Tiffany. His face was haggard, having withered to skin and bones in just days.
His lips pressed tightly now, anguish churning in his eyes.
After a long pause, he abruptly coughed up a mouthful of blood.
…
The family doctor arrived swiftly. Donald rushed home from the office upon hearing the news.
Meanwhile, Joyce had been weeping ceaselessly. Donald frowned in silence.
An oppressive pall hung over the vast mansion.
Tiffany still remembered her first visit to the Lewis residence. She remembered Donald's warmth, Joyce's gentleness, and William's bright and amiable nature.
She had envied their harmonious, cozy family life.
As a result, she longed for and anticipated her future with William.
Now, she could only lament how quickly life's circumstances changed.
The doctor emerged, and Joyce and Donald approached him anxiously.
"How's my son?" Joyce asked.
"Neck injuries from the strangulation, but it was severe enough to damage his vocal cords. Even if he recovers eventually, his voice may be permanently impaired."
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