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By the side of a hospital bed surrounded by dozens of high-tech medical machines, a dark-haired man with an unkempt, scraggly black beard clutched the palm of his comatose wife like a drowning man on his last straw.
"Don't worry, Allie, don't worry. You have to believe in me, everything others told you was a lie, you know? Just wake up, and I promise to prove it to you."
The secretary standing by the door clenched his fists tightly as he listened to the words of his clearly deranged boss, just as he had hundreds of times before.
"Our son's not dead, you know? In fact, just because some people tried to kill him doesn't mean anything. He'll be perfectly fine after some time, you know? He's my son, after all." The man chuckled. "What treatment can't I afford in this world, Allie? Tell me, how can my son die? You're just not waking up because you're upset with me, eh?"
