"Is it because of me?"
After a long time, he whispered again, "Was it my fault that made you sick?"
Seeing her lying on the bed motionless, like a porcelain doll without life, Thomas Shannon's heart suddenly surged with an uncontrollable pain.
Holding her hand, he gradually tightened his grip.
The medicine was finished, but Sophie Sullivan showed no signs of waking up.
Thomas Shannon sat by the bedside all the while, watching over her, while outside the door, two little heads were peeking and peering.
William Westlake stepped on Snowball, who rewarded him with a knock on the head, and William, feeling wronged, cried out in pain, looking teary-eyed at Snowball, "Fairy, you weren't like this before."
Snowball lazily glanced at him, "You used to be very well-behaved."
The implication being, he wasn't very well-behaved now.
William puffed up his cheek, "William is very well-behaved now too!"
"No, you're not."
"Very well-behaved, very well-behaved!"
"Keep your voice down..."
