No dignity.
No respect.
For a man like Grandpa Porter—a man who had lived his entire life in power and glory—such an end was nothing short of the cruelest torment.
Samson felt a chill crawl up from his feet, seeping into his very soul. If even grandpa Porter had been reduced to such a wretched state, what fate awaited him?!
Grandpa Porter clearly knew of this drug's existence.
His lifeless eyes flickered faintly, veins bulging grotesquely across his forehead.
"My friend," he rasped, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"After decades of friendship, all I ask now is a dignified death."
His gaze locked onto Grandpa Luther, desperate.
"You wouldn't deny me even that, would you?"
Uncle Carlos watched the scene unfold, his brow furrowed in disgust.
Even now, this man had the audacity to play on Grandpa Luther's sympathy?
He could only pray the old man wouldn't soften.
