The suburban area was overgrown with weeds, mosquitoes buzzing softly, and a thin moon hid behind the clouds; the dim lights in the abandoned factory attracted many mosquitoes.
Isabella Scott took a few steps closer, genuinely wanting to see her cousin kneel before her and beg for forgiveness.
Rosie glanced at her, knees slightly bent, as if about to kneel.
"Cousin, I know you've always resented me for not helping Aunt in time back then, but I was truly afraid. I'm so frail, barely any blood to spare, and if I gave Aunt my blood..."
The girl's bent knees stiffened, her gaze darkened, as her words conjured those painful memories.
"Oh dear, why am I saying this? Aunt cared for me so much, she surely wouldn't blame me. Yet, you, cousin, have always harbored hatred for me; if Aunt knew, she'd surely scold you."
Rosie retracted her bent knees; she never intended to kneel. The leaning posture was just more convenient to punch someone.
