The tension in the room was palpable as Martha fought to maintain her grip. The creature thrashed wildly, its frantic movements causing the glass to tremble beneath her hands. “George, do something!” she pleaded, her voice cracking under the strain. George’s eyes darted around the room, searching for a solution. Spotting a towel, he seized it and pressed it firmly against the glass, adding his weight to hers. “Just a little longer,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the chaos. Martha gave a shaky nod, but inside, her thoughts were a cacophony of panic, each passing second stretching into an agonizing eternity.
The Tension Grew
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Two more people arrived
Two more people arrived, armed with heavy-duty gloves and tools. They moved with urgency yet precision, their expressions a blend of curiosity and concern. “We’re here to help,” one of them said, offering George a reassuring nod. Martha’s grip on the glass faltered, her emotions caught between relief and lingering fear. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. George stepped aside to give the newcomers room. “This is Martha,” he said, gesturing toward her. “We need to contain this thing immediately.”
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