SURVEILLANCE RECORDING
LOCATION: Jenson Drake's Office
TIME: 09:27 AM.
"How can you say you can't help me? Aren't you a charity? My boy is running out of time! He..." the elderly woman continued, desperately fighting for her rights. And, to be fair, grief can drive people to do almost anything.
"Please, Mrs. Rose," the man replied calmly. "'White Lily' has always opened its doors to those in need. But surely you understand that your case is far from the only one."
"Why should I care about OTHER people's children?! I want to save my son!"
"Then save him."
At last, the wrinkles on the woman's face flushed crimson with pure rage. The panic that had gripped her heart gave way to burning hatred. She shot to her feet as though scalded by boiling water. Swallowing her words, she struggled to hold on to what little composure remained, determined to get through to the heartless bastard sitting across from her.
"Are you mocking me? How am I supposed to save him? I have no money, no job, no home — I don't even have a place to take a damn piss! What kind of charity are you if you're just going to let my only son die? I'll make sure everyone hears about this! Do you have any idea who I know? I'll—"
Less than a minute later, she was gasping for air, choking on the torrent of her own words. Her already poor diction dissolved into ragged breaths, fueled by adrenaline coursing through her veins. But neither her anger nor her bitterness had faded.
"That's enough. Catch your breath, Mrs. Rose."
"Who the hell do you think you are? Just because nobody can get into your office, you think your problems don't exist? Bullshit! You can go to—"
She cut herself off again, though this time it wasn't because she was out of breath.
...