“I’ll give you a wipe down before I go to sleep,” Winifred Dawson said, drenched in sweat and sticky, thinking a body wipe might help her sleep better.
“No… don’t…” Winifred Dawson clutched the blanket tightly, shrinking back into the corner.
Garrison Reeves frowned upon seeing Winifred Dawson’s reaction, unsure if he was overthinking, but he felt that she was acting very differently today, which seemed quite off.
Her face was flushed, and it was unclear whether it was from shyness or illness, perhaps both. Garrison Reeves thought this, yet he overlooked another possibility-that she was feeling guilty and anxious.
Garrison Reeves confidently believed that Winifred Dawson would not deceive him; they had no secrets between them.
He trusted her completely, yet he forgot that he had his own share of secrets from her.
“I’ll wipe you down; you’ve sweated so much, it’ll freshen you up a bit, and you’ll sleep more comfortably tonight,” Garrison Reeves said, thinking she was just shy, and even teased her a bit, “I’ve done this before; are you feeling shy now?”
Winifred Dawson’s face remained red, her ears turning crimson with tension, “I don’t… I won’t wipe…”
She spoke hoarsely, her eyes full of rejection that startled Garrison Reeves.
After casting a cautious glance at Garrison Reeves, Winifred Dawson looked away and explained, “The fever hasn’t fully subsided, I’ll probably sweat more later. Didn’t the doctor say that sweating it out could help? Covering with a blanket might be better than wiping it off now.”
Winifred Dawson tried to calm herself, speaking clearly and convincingly.
Apparently, Garrison Reeves believed her.
“So that’s it, I thought you were repulsed by me, didn’t want to be close…” he said.
“How could I be?” Winifred Dawson smiled slightly. “You should go to sleep too, don’t stay in my room, I don’t want to infect you.”
“It’s not contagious, the doctor said it’s just a common cold, no virus.”
“Still, you shouldn’t stay here continuously, you’ve been tired for two days; you should rest properly. Go sleep, my head isn’t dizzy anymore, I should be fine,” Winifred Dawson urged quickly.
Garrison Reeves raised an eyebrow, “Really fine?”
“Mhm.” Fearing Garrison Reeves wouldn’t believe her, Winifred Dawson widened her eyes to appear more spirited.
“I’m still a bit worried…”
Carefully, Winifred Dawson suggested, “Just sleep in the next room. It isn’t soundproof, and if anything happens, I’ll call you or phone you, how about that?”
Having said so much, what else could Garrison Reeves say? Of course, he agreed.
“Alright, I’ll go wash up then. Remember to call me if you need anything.”
“Mhm, don’t worry.”
Her face still showing signs of weakness, how could he not worry?
After watching Garrison Reeves leave the room, Winifred Dawson finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling less tense.
Due to the medication, Winifred Dawson felt drowsy again and quickly fell asleep, her sleep deepening as her nasal congestion cleared.
After washing up, Garrison Reeves quietly entered Winifred Dawson’s room and, seeing her asleep, gently adjusted her blankets.
Curled up in bed, Winifred Dawson looked small and unnaturally pale, her appearance stirring a protective affection in Garrison. He couldn’t help but stare at her, slowly leaning closer until their lips were nearly touching. Just then, he heard Winifred murmur in her sleep, her mouth moving unconsciously.
“Don’t… let go of me…”
Garrison stiffened and slowly straightened up.
Winifred was having another nightmare. Although she couldn’t recall specific memories, it seemed she often dreamt of her past, forgetting everything upon waking and unable to answer any questions about it.
Garrison carefully wiped the cold sweat from Winifred’s forehead. Noticing a small cut on her lip, he didn’t think much of it, assuming she had bitten it herself.
Winifred had a bad habit of biting her lower lip when she felt unwell or upset. Despite several attempts to help her break this habit, it persisted.
…
The next day, Winifred groggily woke up feeling ill, her body aching as if it had fallen apart.
Hearing noises from the kitchen, she struggled to sit up.
What time was it?
After searching around, Winifred found her phone under the pillow. It was already eight o’clock.
She had slept for a full day and night.
After checking the time, Winifred examined herself. Her clothes were still neatly on, the injuries underneath well-concealed.
Dressed in long clothes and covered with a blanket, she was sweating profusely, the sweat sticky on her skin and smelling faintly when she sniffed close.
Disgusted with herself, she noted that the medication and shots had significantly alleviated her cold. Her nose was slightly congested, but moving around seemed to help clear it. Unable to find a thermometer, she touched her forehead with her hand to gauge the temperature; it felt cooler than her palm, indicating she was likely back to normal.
Standing up, Winifred felt dizzy and sat back down on the bed, closing her eyes until the dizziness passed.
Garrison stood at the doorway. “You’re up? Why not rest a bit longer?”
“I’ve been lying down too long; my bones feel soft. I want to get up and walk around, maybe freshen up.”
“Just call me if you need to freshen up; I’ll help you.”
“I’m just sick, not disabled. You’re being too careful with me,” Winifred Dawson said as she stood up, this time without feeling dizzy.
“I’m going to the bathroom to wash up and take a shower. I’ve sweated so much, I feel like I stink.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, my fever is completely gone. I’m not dizzy or blurry-eyed anymore; I can manage on my own.”
Seeing that Winifred Dawson walked steadily, Garrison Reeves didn’t say much more and let her go.
“Then go freshen up. By the time you’re done, it will be about time for breakfast.”
“What’s for breakfast? I heard noises from the kitchen early this morning.” Mentioning food seemed to lift Winifred’s spirits a bit.
“You’re still not fully recovered. The doctor advised you to eat light, so I made some vegetable and lean meat porridge and bought some shrimp dumplings. The noise was me chopping pig bones to make bone soup for lunch. I’ll check on the pot. Take your time getting ready, don’t rush. If you need anything, just call me. Don’t close the room door; I might not hear you from the kitchen.”
Garrison Reeves was always like this with Winifred Dawson, giving all his patience, attention, and care to her, considering everything for her.
The better he treated her, the more it hurt Winifred, making her feel unworthy of his kindness.
She clutched the hem of her clothes tightly and lowered her head to reply, “Okay, I won’t close the door.”
After Garrison left, Winifred Dawson took a long-sleeved, high-necked outfit from the wardrobe that covered her neck completely.
Once in the bathroom, she closed the door, looked at herself in the mirror, and touched her face, finally settling her gaze on a cut on her lower lip.
Touching it sent a sharp pain through her, and her brain seemed to react immediately, flashing back to the image from last night of a man forcefully biting her lip.
Winifred staggered a bit, her body uncontrollably shaking. She braced herself mentally, pulled open her collar, and saw that the marks, far from fading, had darkened to a bruised purple, looking terrifyingly deep and permanent, like tattoos ingrained into her flesh.
Winifred tore off a towel and scrubbed fiercely, as if to punish herself, trying to release the emotional pain inside. No matter how hard she scrubbed, even to the point of bleeding, she couldn’t clean it off.
Her hands relaxed, her arms dropping limply, as if her bones had been removed. She stared at her reflection, hating the sight of herself.
Her body swayed, and she steadied herself on the sink, accidentally knocking over some toiletry bottles, causing a noisy clutter.
The small space became a mess, as her turmoil seemed to spread to everything around her.
“Winifred, what’s happening in there?”