Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Charity Case Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Certainly I see things that aren't there and don't say what my voice says—but how touched those spots inside me. That was when I did it. Why couldn't what he said have been "The best things in life are free, Not if you believe me. The first thing I can remember, the start of all this, was when I was four or five somebody was soiling my bed for me. I absolutely was not and I was left there in the dark. Being four or five, I didn't know any better, so I thought Dad made it him about the light as soon as I could talk again, but he said I was lying. One day, to prove me a liar, he opened and closed the door a few times from outside. The light winked off and on, off and on, always shining inside, and the light stayed on, no matter how hard he slammed the door. I stayed in the dark longer for lying about the light. things that came to me. They were real to me. They never touched me, but they had a little boy. He looked the way I did in the mirror. They did unpleasant things to him. Because they were real, I talked about them as if they were real, and I almost earned a bunk in the home for retarded children until I got My mother and father must have been glad when I was sent away to reform at night. It was home. There was reason for me to steal, if I could have got away with it. The before they were killed, saying they had sent money or that it was When I was expelled from reform school, I left with just one idea in It was two or three years later that I skulked into Brother Partridge's Partridge didn't seem to notice me, but I knew that was an act. I knew eagle beak toward us. "Brothers, this being Thanksgiving, I pray the amening. I could see he had a lot to be thankful for—somewhere he had "Brothers," Partridge went on after enjoying the interruption with a prepared by Sister Partridge, a generous supply of sweet rolls and send one to the chef that they were going to think I was rich, and some room into the kitchen. Even Partridge made his way down from the While keeping a lookout for Partridge and somebody stepping out of the The next time I glanced at the clock, it said ten minutes had gone by. My hand still wasn't free and I hadn't budged the box. "This," Brother Partridge said, "is one of the most profound experiences of my life." My head hinged until it lined my eyes up with Brother Partridge. The the preacher explained in wonderment. I nodded. "Swimming right in there with the dead duck." "Cold turkey," he corrected. "Are you scoffing at a miracle?" "People are always watching me, Brother," I said. "So now they do it even when they aren't around. I should have known it would come to that." wasn't dumb enough to murder. Somebody, somewhere, would be a witness "I may be able to help you," Brother Partridge said, "if you have faith "I've got something better than a conscience," I told him. Brother Partridge regarded me solemnly. "There must be something intervention. But I can't imagine what." "Your name?" "William Hagle." No sense lying. I had been booked and printed before. Partridge prodded me with his bony fingers as if making sure I was As long as it stalled off the cops, I'd talk to Partridge. of that turkey soup. Then again I was glad I hadn't. Something always After some time Sister Partridge bustled in and snapped on the overhead lights and I kept talking. The brother still hadn't used the phone to call the cops. "Remarkable," Partridge finally said when I got so hoarse I had to take a break. "One is almost— almost —reminded of Job. William, you are being punished for some great sin. Of that, I'm sure." "Punished for a sin? But, Brother, I've always had it like this, as long as I can remember. What kind of a sin could I have committed when I was fresh out of my crib?" "William, all I can tell you is that time means nothing in Heaven. Do you deny the transmigration of souls?" "Well," I said, "I've had no personal experience—" "Of course you have, William! Say you don't remember. Say you don't want to remember. But don't say you have no personal experience!" "And you think I'm being punished for something I did in a previous He looked at me in disbelief. "What else could it be?" "I don't know," I confessed. "I certainly haven't done anything that bad in this life." "William, if you atone for this sin, perhaps the horde of locusts will lift from you." It wasn't much of a chance, but I was unused to having any at all. I shook off the dizziness of it. "By the Lord Harry, Brother, I'm going to give it a try!" I cried. "I believe you," Partridge said, surprised at himself. "Perhaps this will help in your atonement," he said. Brother Partridge's money, I killed a man. It was all an accident, but killing somebody is reason enough to get "No," I said. "I'm just helping out during Christmas." noises like make an example of him and do something permanent and I squirmed away across the rubbish like a polite mouse. It felt as if I connected, but I was so numb, I wasn't sure until I unscrewed my eyes. I suppose I was to blame anyway. If I hadn't been alive, if I hadn't the point in making me suffer for it. There was a lot to be said for Brother Partridge about the accident, or murder, or whatever had Searching myself after I left Brother Partridge, I finally found a The downstairs washroom was where I went first. There was nobody there but an old guy talking urgently to a kid with thick glasses, and somebody building a fix in one of the booths. I could see charred matches dropping down on the floor next to his tennis shoes, and even a few grains of white stuff. But he managed to hold still enough to keep from spilling more from the spoon. on. "We have the News of the stacks. The cases of books, row after row, smelled good. Like old leather and good pipe tobacco. I had been here before. In this world, it's the man I heard my voice say, "A pleasure. What about after work?" I didn't say it, but I was used to my voice independently saying and left me alone with while Walter Pidgeon and the rest Partridge's. Let's see, it was daylight outside again, so this was the "I still think you're yellow," my voice said. It was my voice, but it didn't come from me. There were no words, no feeling of words in my throat. It just came out of the air the way it eyebrow. They couldn't do anything worse to the small man than they began to dose. The shrieks woke me up. For the first time, I could hear the shrieks of the monster's victim and listen to their obscene droolings. For the very first time in my life. Always before it had been all pantomime, like Charlie Chaplin. Now I heard the sounds of it all. They say it's a bad sign when you start hearing voices. I nearly panicked, but I held myself in the seat and forced myself to be rational about it. My own voice was always saying things everybody could hear but which I didn't say. It wasn't any worse to be the only one who could hear other things I never said. I was as sane as I ever was. There was no doubt about that. But a new thought suddenly impressed itself on me. Whatever was punishing me for my sin was determined that I turn back

<question>:
Did Partridge's attempt to help William atone for his sins help?

<options>:
A yes - everything that happened to William after that was positive
B yes - William will improve his life because of the help
C no - William spent it all immediately
D no - William is still hearing, seeing, and saying things

<answer>:

D