"I've already told you enough; your time is running out," she coldly reminded me once again.
I gritted my teeth, determination hardening my voice. "Let me go. Let me and my daughter leave for somewhere safe, or I won't utter a single word!"
Her dismissive laughter echoed through the phone, followed by her slow, deliberate reply. "Your time is limited, and so is your daughter's."
I froze, the weight of her words crashing down on me like a tidal wave.
"When I was in school, I became particularly fascinated by a certain procedure... the prefrontal lobotomy," she paused, savoring the moment, then continued, "Do you know what that is? When I buried you, your daughter cried so violently that her screams were giving me a headache."
Her voice grew colder, almost detached. "I'll find a sharp iron rod and drive it into her skull, then stir her brain. After that, she'll become as obedient as a docile animal. You could sell her, and she wouldn't even flinch."
A small laugh escaped her lips, an eerie, almost satisfied sound. "Oh, and by the way, there's no anesthesia here."
"Wait..." My voice broke, panic clawing at my chest, but she ruthlessly interrupted me.
"You have five minutes," she said, coldly throwing the words at me.
My mind exploded in a haze of fear, and my body trembled uncontrollably, as if every muscle were being stretched beyond its limit.
"Speak, or not. It's your choice," she continued, unfazed by my frantic curses. With a sharp click, she ended the call.