Jasmine Yale bristled with rage, screaming hysterically.
Sylvan Cheney paused, his lips curling slightly.
"Who have you seen today?" Sylvan Cheney tapped the steering wheel, asking indifferently, the depths of his eyes swirling with a chilling luster.
"I haven't seen anyone; can you please drive faster, I feel so awful…" Jasmine Yale clutched her sweater, her small face scrunched up, her long eyelashes fluttering non-stop.
It felt as if her whole body was on fire; if it weren't for Sylvan Cheney in the car, she really wanted to strip off her clothes.
Hot.
Too hot.
Her entire being seemed to be in agony.
She had never experienced such torment.
"Where does it hurt?"
"Can you please drive faster..." Jasmine Yale looked at him, eyes pleading.
"Jasmine Yale, the drug, I can help you with it," Sylvan said, his gaze fixed forward, his voice bland.
Jasmine Yale was stunned.
She shook her head, persistently: "Take me to the hospital!"
