His gaze was sharp and cold, like tempered ice, emanating a chilling aura.
He glanced at her, then disappeared with the child.
"No! Give me back my child!" Jasmine Yale called after him.
But she could no longer see him nor her child!
"No... don't... give my child back to me..."
Jasmine Yale snapped awake, bracing herself on the edges of the bathtub, forcing herself to sit up.
It was a nightmare, once again.
In these three years, she had had quite a few of these nightmares.
And each time, they were horrifying.
The bathwater had long grown cold. She was weak all over, cold sweat broke out on her forehead and her back.
She glanced at the time; it was already half-past ten in the evening.
She had soaked herself in the cold water for a long time.
She always ended up falling asleep whenever she took a bath.
For this persistent habit, Sylvan Cheney had harshly criticized her.