The person with the most recent calls was none other than Luther.
She recalled that day, the two of them kissed in the snow. What a beautiful and warm scene. She hated it so much that she pinched the back of her hand with her nails so deeply and she sucked in a cold breath of pain, and could barely hold it back.
She dialed Luther's number and soon the call was answered.
"Baby, miss me? Where are you? Are you home yet? I'll be back soon. Wait for me."
At the other end of the phone came Luther's low sexy voice and intoxicating intimate words.
Charlotte's eyes were on fire, and the words burst out almost from between her teeth.
"Luther, I have Joyce. Club Pascaylia. Come now and collect her body!"
At that, she did not give Luther any chance to speak.
Charlotte slammed Joyce's phone into the concrete, smashing it to pieces. Still, she felt she did not have enough. She went up to the phone and stomped on it, hard, and hysterically, until it was crushed.
The floor in the rotten building was covered with dust.
At the moment, because of her constant trampling, the dust was flying in the sky.
The fine powder burrowed straight into Charlotte's nostrils, invaded her throat and finally her lungs.
Charlotte coughed up repeatedly.
She was already weak and she had never had any formal treatment. At the moment she was irritated by the dust, and her coughing seemed never to stop.
The pale echoes were constantly shuttling back and forth, which made the building more horrible.
All the blood rushed up to her face, she had almost coughed her guts out, and seemed about to die.
At this moment, she felt like she was really dying and would never get better.
Damn, damn, damn it!
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