Her entire face became extremely stiff. The anesthesia hadn’t worn off, leaving many areas numb. It felt as if her whole face had been torn off and a mask casually placed over it. Her face no longer felt like her own.
The restraints on her body were loosened, and Winifred instinctively wanted to reach out and touch her face, but she had no strength in her hands.
She stared at the ceiling of the operating room with bloodshot eyes. The glaring lights shone into her eyes, making her pupils appear misty. The prolonged exposure to the strong light blurred her vision, creating ghostly images of everything she saw. The doctor quickly ordered the lights to be turned off.
“Miss Dawson, be careful with your eyes. Don’t stare at the light for too long.”
Having been in darkness for so long, Winifred was somewhat afraid and didn’t dare close her eyes again. At that moment, her hand was held.
It was Garrison.
Garrison grasped her cold, sweat-soaked hand and gently squeezed her stiff fingers.
“It’s okay now. Don’t be afraid; I’m here.”
Winifred’s heart steadied a bit, and she let out a faint “okay” from her throat.
It was barely audible unless you listened closely, but Garrison heard it. She was then wheeled out to the adjacent observation room. The cosmetic surgery had just begun; more procedures and adjustments were needed to ensure a natural look.
Of course, there were lucky ones whose surgeries were entirely successful, achieving the desired state without further adjustments. However, such cases were rare, especially since Winifred required a complete transformation from head to toe-a major surgery.
She couldn’t open her mouth or eat; she could only receive nutrients through an IV.
The nutrient solution maintained her bodily functions, but her stomach still felt hunger pangs at regular intervals, causing discomfort and an intense craving for food.
But now she couldn’t open her mouth; even swallowing was difficult. She could only sip small amounts of water. Eating solid food was out of the question; she could only endure day by day.
Winifred already disliked hospitals. Lying immobile in bed every day was incredibly dull, and she had to endure the post-anesthesia pain on her face. Describing it as “worse than death” wasn’t an exaggeration.
Already lacking a sense of security, being “confined” in such an environment gradually took a toll on her mental state. She wanted to cry out loud, to vent her emotions, to touch the bandaged face, to tear off the bandages and look in the mirror to see how much she still resembled herself.
But reason held her back. A voice inside told her she couldn’t act rashly; she couldn’t even show excess facial expressions or cry.
One morning, she lost control and tried to move her face. Fortunately, a caregiver noticed in time and restrained her limbs before calling the doctor to secure her with restraints.
When Garrison arrived at the hospital, he saw this scene: Winifred’s body was bound while several medical staff surrounded her, speaking continuously. Thankfully, the doctor administered a sedative in time to calm her down.
At that moment, she looked like a fish tossed onto land, gasping painfully for air. No matter how hard she tried to breathe, her chest felt heavy as if weighed down by a massive stone; she couldn’t catch her breath.
She wanted to leave this place; she wanted to go back. Garrison… Garrison, where are you? I want to go back… I don’t want to stay in this hospital.
It was so uncomfortable…
The air in the hospital felt stifling; she felt like she was suffocating.
“Winifred, how are you? Don’t be afraid; I’m here. I’m right here.” Garrison gripped Winifred’s cold hand tightly.
Winifred slowly turned her head towards Garrison. Her previously unfocused pupils gradually contracted back until they finally fixed on Garrison’s face. Her eyes reflected his image.
“It hurts. Garrison, it hurts so much… My face is gone. I dreamt my face was gone, covered in blood. My face hurts so much… I’m starting to forget who I am. No… I never knew who I was in the first place. Who am I? Why am I called Winifred Dawson? Who am I… who…” Winifred’s hoarse voice sounded awful, like nails scraping across a chalkboard.
Garrison wanted to hold Winifred tightly but feared hurting her newly reconstructed face. She was like a fragile vase pieced together after shattering-requiring utmost care-so he didn’t dare hug her too tightly.
“Your face is fine; don’t be afraid. I’ll stay here with you forever; I’ll never leave your sight again. I’ll remind you who you are-you’re Winifred; you’re my Winifred. I’ll make sure you never forget who you are again. I’ll be by your side every step of the way. Winifred, just hold on a little longer; you’ve made it through these five years; you can make it through this too.”
Winifred couldn’t take it in; she was engulfed by panic.
Yes, she’d endured many injuries and made it through those five years, like Garrison mentioned, but she’d lost her memory and couldn’t recall them.
She thought enduring pain would become a habit, but it didn’t. It only made things worse, driving one insane.
Like a thorn stuck in one’s throat, breathing itself became painful; it was impossible to get used to it.
Injected with sedatives, she couldn’t go mad even if she wanted to. Her body was immobilized. Garrison kept talking beside her ear. Whatever he said didn’t fully register, but gradually calmed down her disturbed mind. His voice seemed to work better than any sedative, lulling her into sleep shortly after.
Seeing Winifred asleep with closed eyes-Garrison didn’t relax one bit.
Anyone confined within hospital walls undergoing cosmetic surgery for so long would grow restless, not just Winifred.
Winifred always cared about appearances. Even now with amnesia and disfigurement, it mattered greatly, or else she would not have agreed so quickly for surgery.
After surgery, her face must be wrapped in bandages. The nurse regularly checked and changed dressings, but during this period, she couldn’t see what state her face was in. It was impossible not paying heed to her face as the pain constantly reminded her of it. And she could feel her face was swollen.
Leaving wasn’t an option now. Since she had undergone surgery, there was no turning back.
Fortunately, she regained clarity quickly. Once the sedative wore off, she woke up from her dreams, and her composure had returned to her.
Of course fear remained, but having Garrison beside eased fears considerably.
Garrison postponed work, holding a book and reading stories to distract her.
The strong disinfectant smell filled the ward, Garrison wanted his assistant to buy flowers to freshen up the room.
“Winifred, what flowers do you like?”
He knew well enough, Winifred always favored roses, even though allergic. But he was unsure if Winifred who had lost her memories would have the same preference.
Winifred looked outside, pointing the tree below the hospital window and asking, “What flowers bloom on that tree?”
Garrison looked over. “Those are camellias.”