“Lock them up!” Leland’s voice over the phone couldn’t hide his murderous intent.
The driver shivered upon hearing Leland, feeling a chill despite the heated car.
They ran red lights, the road was slippery, and they almost rear-ended another car on the way to the hospital. Thanks to the driver’s skill, they arrived safely.
The driver rushed inside to get help while Leland carefully carried Winifred out. Halfway there, medical staff brought a stretcher.
Leland placed her on it and followed them until Winifred was taken into the examination room. He was left outside, his eyes red.
He stood there for a while, shivering as he felt cold all over. It was only October, but it felt like winter.
If he felt cold, how much colder must Winifred be after lying in the mud and water for so long?
Leland looked down and saw water stains everywhere-from his shoes and clothes.
After a while, a nurse came out with some forms for Leland to sign.
“How is she?”
“The doctor is still conducting a full examination. Her hand is in bad shape. How did she get injured?”
Leland had guessed this when he saw Winifred’s hand, but hearing it from the nurse filled him with fear.
He wanted Winifred to learn a lesson through some pain but never intended for her to pay such a price. If she woke up and found out about her hand, would it be too much for her to bear?
“Sign here first. She also has a head injury. We’ll know more once the doctor finishes. After signing, take these forms outside to pay and arrange for her admission.”
“Alright.” Leland signed and sent the driver to handle the payments while he stayed by the door.
The nurse didn’t go back inside and advised Leland, “You’re soaking wet. Maybe you should buy some dry clothes to avoid catching a cold.”
Leland ignored her, lost in thought.
About half an hour later, Winifred was wheeled out. She was now wearing hospital clothes that made her look even paler. A blanket covered her, and her injured hand had been bandaged.
“Doctor, how is her hand?”
“Her hand needs surgery; it’s quite serious. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning.” The doctor then asked, “Are you related to the patient?”
“I’m her… partner.” Leland hesitated at the word “partner,” feeling it was a slap in his face. How could he call himself that when he left Winifred alone at the cemetery?
“Doctor, will she still be able to draw, play piano, or violin?”
The doctor’s expression stiffened as he glanced at Winifred. He hadn’t expected such talent from someone so young-a budding artist-but now…
Leland could read faces well and knew what was coming.
“I’m afraid not… Her hand is severely damaged; it was crushed by something heavy. Especially her left wrist-it might need steel pins. As for her right hand, it’s less severe but won’t fully recover. She can still draw if she tries hard enough, but it will require ten times more effort than before. Drawing itself is taxing on the hands; if she takes it seriously as a profession, I suggest she stops-for her own good.”
In short, it was best if she didn’t draw anymore. Thinking of Winifred’s studio filled with hundreds of paintings now destined to be rare pieces…
Winifred was moved to intensive care-a single room with good conditions. An IV drip with painkillers was administered, but she still frowned in pain even in her sleep.
Leland stood by her bed, looking at her red and purple hand. He reached out but pulled back at the last moment.
“Will you blame me? Will you hate me?” Leland took a deep breath, unable to face Winifred when she woke up.
Usually strong-willed, Leland felt fear creeping in-like when his mother died ten years ago.
He should have stayed by Winifred’s side until she woke up, but fear got the better of him. What if seeing him agitated her? What if she said she hated him? How would he cope?
So Leland “ran away.”
The weather outside was gloomy and rainy. The room felt enveloped in darkness and despair.
Feeling oppressed by his emotions, Leland needed to do something to release himself; otherwise… he might go mad even before Winifred did.