“Maybe it’s time you get yourself admitted, Aunt Shelly. We’re all very worn out.”
Mark's sudden remark hushed Shelly into stunned silence. A few seconds later, she recovered with an indignant murmur. “Wha… What are you saying? You’re… You’re not seriously suggesting institutionalizing me, are you? Are you?! You think I’m mad... You think I’m insane? No, you don’t understand! You don’t know what Arianne’s doing behind your back, do you? What kinda juju did she put in you, my poor Mark. Why can’t you wake up and see the truth? I’ve done everything in my power devoting to the singular goal of coming back to your side—how could I let them harm you under my watch? No! Come hell or high water, I’ll eliminate all of them, all these pesky threats! They will never harm a single hair on your head, never again, never again, never…”
Something left Shelly’s eyes, leaving behind two hollow, unfocused pools as she mumbled to no one in particular.
Arianne caught the most unnerving part in her monologue and followed up. “Why is it so imperative for you to come back to Mark’s side? He’s just your nephew!”
The lights in Shelly’s eyes suddenly sharpened. They darted toward Arianne before nailing themselves onto her, unblinking.
It sent shivers up Arianne’s spines, and instinctively, she scooped Smore up in her arms and hid behind Mark.
Mark took a deep breath. Deadpanned, he carried Shelly in his arms and sent her back into her room. “Listen, Aunt Shelly, take a good rest and cease causing a scene right now, lest you inflict lasting fear in Smore. If the situation demands for it, or if your mental health continues to deteriorate, so help me, I’ll get you institutionalized,” he stated.
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