“The victims are multiplying, we have to do something,” my aunt tries to reason with Hugh, but he shakes his head. He looks at her with a frown on his face, clearly not contented with what she’s trying to accomplish.
“It’s not in my hands, Mary, you know that,” he tells her gently, while I freeze on my chair. Uh, Mary? My eyes jump between the two of them, but they clearly have no clue that I’m still sitting literally five feet away from them and hearing every word.
She shakes her head. “But you could convince him. Humans are dying, we can’t just … We can’t just let them,” she keeps pressuring him, while my face falls. Cyrus. They’re talking about Cyrus.
Just like hearing my thoughts, or simply remembering that I’m still there with them, my aunt and Hugh turn their heads towards me at t
