Margot couldn't bear to hand over the necklace, the last memory of her late husband, the only thing of value left.
Evan, his chest heaving with frustration, glared at his mother. Margot tried to reason with him, her voice trembling but determined. "Evan, please listen to me. You're not yourself. You're sick. We can help you, but you have to let us. You have to fight this. That necklace—your father gave it to me on our wedding day. It's all we have left of him. Please, Evan, don't do this. You're my son. I know you're in there somewhere. Please, come back to us."
But Evan's eyes were cold and distant, clouded by anger and the grip of his addiction. Margot's words were like pebbles thrown into a stormy sea—swallowed up, making no difference at all.
