The witch's smile widened, revealing sharp yellow teeth. "I want something precious to you," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "Something that you value deeply."
Alice's heart sank. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. She tried to keep her expression neutral.
"What kind of thing do you want?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
The witch's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I want your most treasured possession," she said, her voice low and sinister. "Something that means the world to you. Something that you would do anything to keep."
Alice's mind raced. She knew exactly what the witch was asking: her mother's locket, the necklace she treasured above all else. It was the last thing she had of her mother, and she would do anything to keep it.
She hesitated, wondering whether to admit what she was thinking.
The witch chuckled again, sensing her hesitation. "Come now, dear," she taunted. "I can see it in your expression. I know what you're thinking. Your most treasured possession...it's that locket, isn't it?"
Alice swallowed hard, realizing she couldn't lie. The witch had seen right through her.
"Yes," she said quietly, her throat feeling tight. "It's a locket. My mother's locket."
The witch's smile grew even wider. "Ah, I thought so," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "That locket means something to you, doesn't it? It's irreplaceable."
Alice nodded, feeling a pang of anxiety and sadness. She knew what was coming, and she hated it.
"It's the last thing I have from my mother," she said softly. "I can't give it to you. I can't."
The witch tutted, shaking her head playfully. "Oh, come now. Be reasonable, child," she mocked. "Is your mother's locket really worth more to you than a man's suffering? Are you really so selfish as to sacrifice someone's pain for a trinket?"
Alice bristled at the accusation, but she knew the witch had a point. Was her attachment to the locket really worth more than freeing someone from suffering?
She struggled with her emotions, torn between her own selfishness and the morality of the situation.
The witch watched her with a sly smile, clearly enjoying her internal struggle. "Your silence speaks volumes," she said. "How long will you stand there, weighing your own desires against the suffering of this man?"
Alice felt her resolve weakening. The witch's words cut deep, playing on her conscience. She thought of the man, his desperation and helplessness. Could she really condemn him to more suffering simply because she couldn't bear to part with her mother's locket?
The witch saw the uncertainty in her face, and pounced on it. "You can't do it, can you?" she taunted. "You're too selfish to give up that little treasure just to ease a man's pain. What kind of person does that make you?"
Alice felt the guilt wash over her. The witch was right. She was being selfish, putting her own sentimental attachment above someone else's suffering. The moral choice seemed clear, but the thought of parting with the locket was unbearable.
The witch continued to prod her, sensing her weakness. "Just look at you," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. "You're standing there, torn between your own desires and the needs of others. You're so selfish, so unwilling to make sacrifices. Are you really so heartless?"
