Chapter 691: Chapter 691: I Don’t Want to Die, I Want to Live
“The night deepened, the fog thickened.
The courtyard was scattered with mist, layer upon layer, veiling everything.
There was no moonlight. Only the dim yellow streetlights illuminated the grounds of the Cheney Residence.
The interplay of light and shadow, branches crisscrossing, cast landscape after landscape on the ground.
In the bedroom, Yolanda Fern drowsily went to sleep.
Her head, dull with pain.
Her small hand tightly clutched the blanket, her forehead beaded with large drops of sweat.
“Yolanda, Yolanda, Grandpa’s here to see you, do you miss Grandpa?”
“No, no…” Yolanda’s eyes were tightly shut, she muttered and babbled, her sweat flowing freely.
“Yolanda, it’s cold outside, would you let Grandpa co inside?”
A deep, aged voice floated through the air…
“Yolanda, it’s cold and it hurts, Grandpa’s heart is acting up again…”
“Yolanda, where’s the dicine, the one you bought for …”
“Yolanda, Yolanda… you haven’t visited Grandpa in so long…”
“I miss you, Yolanda…”
“No, no…” Yolanda’s hand tightly clutched the blanket, her features twisted in pain, “Grandpa, your death has nothing to do with , it was Teagan Cheney who tampered with the car, Teagan Cheney.”
In the darkness, Yolanda’s voice trembled, her shoulders twitched.
She shrunk herself into a ball, terrified, unable to distinguish reality from dreams.
The voice of Spencer Childe wafted in her ear, moving back and forth, like a terrifying dream yet also like reality.
She was shaking violently, clutching the corner of her blanket tightly.
The pillow beneath her was damp; she couldn’t tell whether it was sweat or tears.
“Yolanda, the dicine you gave Grandpa tasted so bitter…”
Spencer Childe’s voice echoed in Yolanda’s ears nonstop, like wind, like a phantom.
It was ambiguous, buzzing like a bee by her ear.
“Grandpa… stop torturing … I’ll burn paper money for you tomorrow… Okay… Grandpa…” Yolanda grabbed the blanket, her body drenched in cold sweat.
At this mont, Yolanda heard the sound of a dicine bottle shaking.
dicine tablets jumping around in the bottle, making a dull “thud thud thud” sound.
“Ah…” Yolanda clutched her head, the pain was about to explode, “No… Please stop… ”
“Yolanda, could you taste this dicine for Grandpa, see if it’s bitter…”
An elderly, rough voice mixed in with the sound of the pills.
The voice made Yolanda’s heart completely fall apart.
Her head was throbbing intensely, she felt as if she had been thrown into a situation of extre hardship and pain.
She covered her ears with both hands, unwilling to hear these dreamlike or reality-like voices.
“Yolanda, Yolanda…”
“Grandpa…stop pushing , stop…I admit it, I switched your dicine. But your death has nothing to do with , nothing!” Yolanda sobbed uncontrollably.
“Ahh, Yolanda, you don’t love Grandpa anymore…you never co to accompany Grandpa…” The old man sighed.
Yolanda felt increasingly terrified, her body trembling with fear.
“No, I don’t want to accompany you, I don’t want to die, I want to live, live a good life…”
“Yolanda, you took all of Grandpa’s things, what will Grandpa do…” The old man sighed again.
The long sigh sounded particularly creepy in the darkness.
Like a bell ringing in the deep night, clear but ethereal.
An elusive feeling of illusion and uncertainty.
“Grandpa…didn’t you give those things…Grandpa, you can’t go back on your word…Grandpa, can I burn paper money for you? I’ll give you anything you want.” Yolanda hid under the blanket, her head throbbing intensely.
“Ahh,” another sigh, “But what I want is to have you accompany .”
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