Garrison Reeves looked at Winifred Dawson’s dry, cracked lips and carefully applied moisture with a cotton swab. As he leaned closer, Winifred suddenly opened her eyes.
Garrison’s hand froze, his expression filled with surprise. “Winifred…”
Just waking up, Winifred was still in a daze, confused like a fawn that had just awoken. Her eyes turned fearful as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings.
She pushed Garrison away, pulling at the needle in her hand, and let out a hoarse cry.
“Winifred, don’t move. You have a needle in your hand; you’ll hurt yourself. Don’t be afraid; you’re safe now. No one will hit you or harm you.”
Winifred, caught in terror and panic, couldn’t hear anything. She seemed oblivious to the pain as the needle was ripped out of her hand, blood beads forming and staining her fingertips and the bedsheet.
Seeing Winifred about to fall off the bed, Garrison quickly held her. She was so thin and trembling like a leaf.
A sharp pain shot through Garrison’s forearm as he looked down to see Winifred biting into his arm like a wild dog refusing to let go of its prey.
It hurt a lot, but Garrison stifled his groan, enduring the pain as Winifred bit harder until blood appeared on his arm.
Winifred’s bite broke the skin; she was biting with all her strength.
Exhausted from just waking up, Winifred lost strength after less than a minute. She lay in Garrison’s arms, still biting his hand but no longer applying pressure.
Trembling and whimpering in fear, her eyes hidden behind strands of hair were filled with terror and vigilance.
Seeing that she had stopped moving, Garrison gently stroked her hair to comfort her.
Even this small gesture made Winifred tremble again, murmuring, “No…”
From her earlier mutterings in sleep, Garrison guessed she was begging not to be beaten.
His heart ached even more. He didn’t dare to move her again, holding onto her dry hair ends with his soft palm.
He couldn’t understand how someone who was fine five years ago could end up like this upon their next meeting.
This Winifred Dawson couldn’t be reconciled with the past one; they seemed like two different people.
One was a proud little princess high above; the other was a madwoman who wouldn’t stand out even among beggars on the street.
When scared, Winifred’s face showed panic; her pale skin made the long scar on her left cheek look even more hideous, like a long worm stuck there.
“Don’t be afraid…” Garrison soothed softly. “You’re safe now. You won’t hurt anymore. No one will bully you or hit you. Winifred, I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you from now on.”
Winifred’s body stiffened; her face turned pale as she released her bite and cautiously looked up at Garrison. Her eyes were still beautiful-almond-shaped and clear-but now seemed covered by a layer of dust, empty and lifeless.
After glancing at Garrison briefly, she quickly looked down again like a frightened bird avoiding eye contact.
Garrison didn’t understand what she was afraid of or why she seemed not to recognize him anymore.
Never mind; it would take time. In her current state of shock, asking questions would yield no answers. He’d have to wait until she recovered mentally before asking about the past five years.
Of course, if she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t force her.
Once Winifred calmed down completely, Garrison released her.
Feeling freed from restraint and danger, Winifred immediately moved away.
Fortunately, the other side of the bed was against the wall; otherwise, she might have fallen off trying to escape.
She curled up in the corner of the bed as if trying to fit herself into a tiny gap in the wall.
Seeing the blood on her swollen hand from where it had been punctured by the needle, she raised it to her mouth and gently licked it like an injured stray cat-so pitifully.
Garrison’s throat tightened at this sight of Winifred; it inevitably reminded him of how she used to be. His eyes reddened instantly; he wanted to say something but felt choked up and couldn’t speak.
The housekeeper had already prepared dinner earlier; it was cold by now. Seeing Winifred huddled in the corner motionless, Garrison went out and asked a servant to watch over her while he went downstairs to have the housekeeper reheat dinner and bring it upstairs.
The housekeeper nodded but noticed the wound on Garrison’s arm. “Mr. Reeves, do you need your arm treated?”
Garrison raised his arm slightly. “No need; it’s fine.”
“Mr. Reeves, you haven’t eaten all day either. You should eat something too; I’m worried you’ll harm your health.”
If he fell ill from hunger, who would take care of Winifred?
Garrison quickly ate some leftover dinner from last night within five minutes while the housekeeper reheated some soup for him.
Winifred had just woken up; spicy food was definitely off-limits due to poor digestion-liquid food would be best: some soup and porridge.
The housekeeper brought out a tray from the kitchen with reheated soup when Garrison finished eating: “I’ll take it.”
He took the tray upstairs quietly back into their room where only two people remained-the huddled Winifred in bed and a servant standing stiffly by the door-neither had moved since he left earlier.
Garrison placed the tray on the bedside table and picked up the soup bowl; his slight movement made Winifred tremble again as she peeked from behind strands of hair at his face before focusing on his arm then finally settling on the bowl of soup he held-she stayed still after that.
Noticing Winifred’s gaze fixed on the soup bowl confirmed for Garrison that she must be hungry since she showed more interest in food than him without any vacant look in her eyes while staring at it compared to when looking at him directly earlier on…
Sitting by bedside: “Hungry? Come eat something; this chicken soup smells great.”
As he spoke softly while stirring soup gently releasing its aroma…
A growl came from Winifred’s stomach as she stared intently at bowl salivating slightly swallowing hard and making gurgling sounds…
She was very hungry but too timidly frightened to snatch that bowl directly from his hands despite obvious longing for its contents…