Anticipating relief, Bruce was dismayed to find the ice cubes utterly ineffective. The agonizing pain and severe swelling persisted unabated.
His face contorted in anguish, Bruce, once a formidable warden, now crumpled to the ground, resembling a little girl soiling her skirt and weeping in a muddy puddle.
Concerned, Camilla queried, "Mr. Warden, is it any better?"
Bruce shook his head between sobs, despairingly admitting, "Help me think of something. I can't endure this. It’s too much..."
Flustered, Camilla stammered, "I can't think of anything..."
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