After Leland Burns asked that inexplicable question, he immediately felt a chill on his wrist and instinctively pulled his hand back.
“Cut off the hand if you can’t take off the watch? That would be too painful, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t that make one disabled?”
Yes, it would be extremely painful. Even the driver understood this, and naturally, Winifred Dawson understood it too. She had always been afraid of pain, delicate since childhood like a princess. Her hands could do so many things-painting, playing the piano, dancing. If her fingers were crippled, she wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore.
Would she pay such a painful price for a bit of freedom?
Leland Burns tossed two mints into his mouth and rubbed some menthol oil on his forehead. The two cool sensations collided, making his nose sting with sudden emotion.
By the time he returned to the hospital, it was already four in the morning. The sky was pitch black with nothing visible. A heavy rain had just passed, and the air was chilly. Leland Burns got out of the car and called his personal assistant to prepare some essentials for hospitalization and deliver them to the city center hospital.
Winifred Dawson’s injuries were severe; she would need to stay in the hospital for at least a week.
After entering the hospital, Leland Burns did not go directly to the ward but headed to the restroom instead. At this hour, the hospital was very quiet, with only the sound of footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The restroom was deserted. He turned on the faucet and carefully washed his hands. There was disinfectant soap by the sink; he pumped it out repeatedly until his hands were sticky. He scrubbed until his knuckles were red and his palms were burning, rubbing each finger meticulously as if trying to wash away an invisible layer of blood.
…
Winifred Dawson looked different from when he had last seen her. Her abdomen and limbs were restrained by straps, indicating that she had woken up while he was away.
“What happened?”
The nurse who had been secretly using her phone jumped in fright when she heard his voice behind her. She stood up immediately and stammered, “Mr. Burns… Mr. Burns, you’re back?”
She thought this big boss wouldn’t return to the hospital tonight.
He had been gone for so long but hadn’t changed clothes; he was still wearing what he had on earlier, and his hair was disheveled.
Leland Burns walked to Winifred Dawson’s bedside, staring intently at the restraint straps on her arms. He asked again, “Why is she restrained?”
“When you weren’t here, Miss Dawson woke up and started screaming. She’s covered in injuries, so I didn’t dare move her and called the doctor immediately. The doctor said it’s Delirium Syndrome.”
Delirium Syndrome is characterized by impaired awareness and disorganized behavior… In Winifred Dawson’s case, it was because she was too scared. When she woke up, she thought she was still in the cemetery being attacked; she hallucinated and cried out for her father.
The doctor had no choice but to restrain her. Winifred Dawson woke up every hour or so.
At first, Leland Burns didn’t understand why they had to tie her up like this until he witnessed one of her episodes-she cried on the bed.
“Leland Burns… Leland Burns…” This time she wasn’t calling for her father but for Leland Burns.
Her eyes seemed unseeing as they widened with no light in them, as dark as the four a. m. sky outside without a single star.
Even though Leland Burns stood right by her bedside looking down at her from such a close distance, she still called out his name helplessly.
Initially, Leland Burns thought Winifred Dawson was pretending to be pitiful-to get rid of the watch that could track her or to soften his heart so he would lower his guard. He couldn’t help thinking this way; he knew better than anyone how cunning Winifred Dawson could be. After all, at a young age of less than ten years old, she had already orchestrated a murder using someone else’s hand for her own purposes.
But now… Leland Burns no longer thought in that direction.
He stood right in front of her yet it seemed like she couldn’t see him at all-calling out aimlessly like a lost chick separated from its mother hen.
“Leland Burns… Leland Burns, where are you?”
“Winifred Dawson, I’m here…” Leland Burns gently touched her forehead, trying to brush away her stray hair but as soon as he touched her, Winifred Dawson struggled like a fish pulled out of water despite her injuries causing tears from pain.
“Don’t move; you have many wounds.” Leland Burns bent down and cupped her face with both hands, restraining her head from moving.
Luckily she had restraints; otherwise such violent struggles would have caused further injury if she fell off the bed.
“Don’t move; I’m right here. Don’t be afraid; no one can hurt you…”
“No… you’re not Leland Burns; Leland Burns wouldn’t hurt me or leave me in a cemetery or let others bully me… You’re not him; get out… get out! It hurts… Daddy, it hurts so much…” Winifred Dawson babbled incoherently like someone driven mad by pain-her words made no sense anymore-one moment calling for Leland Burns then rejecting him entirely.
She said,” I don’t want him anymore… He’s so bad because of him I hurt so much Daddy I don’t want Leland Burns anymore…”