Martha pleaded softly
Martha’s voice had grown faint and raspy. “Please, George, I can’t do this alone,” she whispered, barely able to speak as pain shot from her wrist to her shoulder. The glass trembled under the strain of the creature beneath, and Martha’s body trembled with it. She was losing the battle, inch by inch, moment by moment.
George moved a little closer, concern etched deep into his expression. “Hang in there, Martha,” he said gently, trying to steady both himself and her. But she could see the sweat pouring down his face, his nerves on edge. “I can’t hold it much longer,” she sobbed, her cheeks wet with tears. “Please… tell me they’re almost here.”
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