Hannah dialed Harry Zachary's number, placing the phone to her ear, waiting for him to pick up.
At this moment, in the Hargrave Family mansion, Henry Hargrave was slumped in his wheelchair, head tilted towards the television, with bright liquid forming a string from his gaping mouth, dribbling intermittently onto his clothes, producing muffled moans, yet nobody came to his aid.
In the master bedroom upstairs, loud mechanical sounds came from the bathroom. In front of the sink, a man and a woman stood there, the woman clutching the marble countertop, the face in the mirror looking somewhat nauseous.
Brows knitted tightly, eyes shut, mouth exaggeratedly open, a sultry wave escaping from her throat.
..........
The phone in the pocket of the pants thrown on the bedroom sofa rang, its sound drowned by exaggerated noises, the faint glow filtering through the thin fabric protesting against the dirty act in the bathroom.
