Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 133: Chapter 133

Eugene kept vigil in the small room all night.
Dawn was breaking when the door creaked open from the outside. A shaft of light pierced through, and Lorraine let out a faint, unconscious whimper.
Eugene shielded Lorraine's eyes from the light and turned to the newcomer, his voice hoarse. "What's wrong?"
Lorenzo walked in carrying some medical supplies. "Your voice is almost gone. Go rest for a bit. I'll change her dressing," he said.
Eugene remained motionless. "Will she wake up?"
"Not for now. She'll probably wake up once you've rested," Lorenzo said, picking up the gauze. "You're blocking my way here. How am I supposed to work?
"Besides, her clothes are already clean, but you're still covered in blood. Do you really want to scare her like that?"
At last, Eugene forced himself to his feet and stepped out of the room. He went behind the house to wash the blood off himself, then retrieved fresh clothes from his suitcase and changed.
The gray tracksuit draped crisply over Eugene's frame, accentuating his athletic build. He cupped a handful of cold water and pressed it to his tired eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion.
Figuring Lorenzo should be nearly done with the treatment, Eugene turned and went back inside. But it wasn't Lorenzo inside.
"What the hell are you doing?" Eugene roared, striding over and seizing the girl's wrist.
He remembered the girl, Woody, a medical college student. She'd trailed behind her classmates up the mountain, petite and unremarkable, barely registering in his memory.
Woody looked up at him, her eyes betraying a poorly concealed hint of admiration.
Eugene tightened his grip, his voice icy. "Speak."
Woody stammered, intimidated by the menacing look in Eugene's eyes. "I-I was just worried about her. I just wanted to check if s-she had any other injuries, and if she was really assaulted."
Eugene's glare was icy enough to kill. He snapped, "Are you trying to remind me of what might have happened to her last night?"
Woody guiltily averted her gaze and stammered, "That's not what I meant."
Eugene flung her away. "Get out," he roared.
Woody pleaded urgently, "Mr. Moore, if the wounds down there get infected, she could die."
"Get out. Don't make me repeat myself a third time," Eugene snapped.
"Mr.—" Woody didn't give up.
With a violent kick, Eugene sent the wooden bench flying across the room. He snarled, "I don't hit women, but in my eyes, you are no woman at all."
Terrified, Woody burst into tears and fled the room in panic.
Lorenzo brushed past her and hurried into the room. "What happened to her?" he asked.
"Nothing. Get everyone else out. Only you and Sheila stay here," Eugene ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Lorenzo glanced at Eugene, then at the bed. Lorraine remained unconscious, the blanket covering her body now pulled aside. Lorenzo was starting to get the picture.
After nodding, Lorenzo stepped outside and called the group of medical students over.
Sobbing uncontrollably, Woody's voice was thick with grievance. "Dr. Eaton, I—"
"Alright, you can all leave now. I'll take full responsibility here and give a full explanation to the dean of your medical college," said Lorenzo.
The students exchanged uneasy glances. "But—"
"Alright, off you go now." Lorenzo waved them away. "Head back."
He glanced at Woody. Lorenzo thought to himself, 'Who would've thought this plain-looking girl would actually dare to provoke Eugene?
'Eugene may be devastatingly handsome, but that heart of his remains locked away from everyone. That girl is downright delusional.'
Woody tried to speak again, but Lorenzo shook his head. "Don't go looking for him anymore. None of you should mess with him."
The others were confused, but Woody's face instantly paled as she realized the severity of Lorenzo's warning.
'If I can't even afford to mess with Eugene, then does Lorraine really think she can?' she wondered.
Woody replayed Henry's words from last night in her mind. She'd heard them crystal clear. She seethed inwardly, 'How could a woman who's been raped ever deserve someone as noble and handsome as Eugene?'
None of the classmates noticed her distress as they huddled together, quietly discussing their imminent departure.
Seeing they had agreed, Lorenzo turned back into the clinic, wisely refraining from entering the room again.
Lorraine felt as if she'd been trapped in an endless dream. In her dream, there was only a hollow, silent tunnel.
She kept moving forward, but the path behind her crumbled away relentlessly. Eventually, there was no road ahead. When she tried to turn back, she fell into an abyss.
Lorraine's eyes snapped open. She stared at the cracked, dilapidated ceiling overhead as a torrent of images flooded her mind.
Like scattered fragments, they swirled chaotically in the air, then slowly pieced themselves together in front of her.
She was still lying on the bed, the air thick with the earthy scent. She was still in the countryside.
'So is it just a nightmare? What a nightmare,' Lorraine thought.
Lorraine shut her eyes, refusing to face whether it was real or just a nightmare.
Suddenly, Lorraine felt a warm hand gently covering her face. As Eugene noticed her eyes flutter open, he leaned down and whispered softly in her ear, "Are you hungry? Do you want some water?"
Lorraine's eyes flew open, startled. Eugene's voice sliced through the dreamlike haze like a blade, jolting her back to reality. She froze, breath held.
Every nerve ending in Lorraine's body jolted back to life, sending waves of brutal, merciless pain crashing through her so intensely that it forced her to double over, curling tightly into herself.
Eugene's heart pounded in panic. His hands hovered uncertainly as he reached out, wanting to hold Lorraine but not daring to touch her.
"Lorraine," he pleaded, his voice trembling, "How can I help you? W-where can I hold you so it won't hurt? I—"
She was so fragile that Eugene barely dared to breathe, afraid that even the slightest movement might hurt her.
Lorraine remained curled up for what felt like an eternity before weakly lifting her head, her voice barely audible. "T-Talk to me. P-Please don't leave. I beg you, Eugene."
The pain was excruciating, stripping away all reason, leaving Lorraine able only to voice her rawest feelings and deepest longings.
Last night, Henry had slammed her to the ground with all his strength, then kept digging his fingers into her and twisting her limbs into grotesque, unnatural angles.
She couldn't bring herself to think about it again. Every time she thought about it, the pain grew tenfold.
Eugene's entire body stiffened, his eyes welling with endless anguish. "Alright, I won't leave. I'm not going anywhere," he murmured hoarsely. "Whatever you want to say, we can talk about it."
Her forehead was slick with cold sweat, strands of hair plastered to her skin.
Eugene tentatively reached out and gently hooked a strand of Lorraine's hair with his finger. He didn't dare use any force, treating her as if she were the rarest treasure in the world.
Lorraine shut her eyes, her lashes trembling violently as she bit down on her lip until it turned pale.
Tears welled up in Lorraine's eyes and silently streamed down her cheeks.
Eugene didn't dare touch her directly. His hand hovered hesitantly before finally coming to rest gently near her ear.
Her tears fell onto the back of Eugene's hand, scalding like boiling oil. They seeped soundlessly into his skin, searing his heart with pain.
Even when she cried, she never made a sound. It was like watching a silent black-and-white film, each frame stabbing daggers into his heart.
Eugene's throat tightened as he gently brushed aside another strand of her hair. His fingers hovered near her tear-streaked cheek, aching to wipe the tears away, yet he didn't dare.
He was so careful, yet unable to take a single step forward. Never in his life had Eugene felt so helpless. All he could do was softly coax her, repeating, "Don't cry. I'm here now. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."
Yet his gaze remained fixed on her trembling lashes, unable to look away. Her long, thick lashes were heavy with tears, trembling like the exhausted wings of a butterfly caught in the rain.
She longed for a haven to rest her weary soul, yet found nowhere to turn.
Just then, Lorenzo knocked on the door from outside. "Eugene," he called, "can we come in?"
Eugene parted his lips, struggling to steady his voice. "Come in," he managed.
Sheila appeared with a large wooden tub she'd found somewhere. "There's nothing else we can use here, so I borrowed this from the family halfway up the mountain.
"Lorenzo brewed some herbal medicine. Let her soak in it for a while, and it should ease the pain."
The two of them carried the wooden tub in together.The pungent aroma of herbal medicine filled the air.
"She needs pain relief right now, but she shouldn't rely on Demerol. This herbal bath will help. Soaking in it should ease her discomfort," Lorenzo said, pointing to the bucket of dark medicinal liquid.
Sheila immediately stepped forward. "I'll help her," she offered.
Just as Sheila reached out, Eugene swiftly intercepted her hand. "I'll do it," Eugene said.
Sheila glanced at Lorraine on the bed, skepticism in her voice. "With all those wounds, are you sure you can handle this?"
Lorenzo quickly reached out and gently took Sheila's arm. "Alright, let's give them some space and step outside," he said tactfully and closed the door behind them.
Eugene stood up to check the water temperature in the wooden tub. After making sure it was just right, he returned to the bed and asked softly, "Can I carry you in?"
Lorraine forced her eyes open and gave a faint nod. Eugene leaned down and gently scooped Lorraine into his arms, cradling her horizontally.
Though Eugene moved with extreme care, Lorraine's face still drained of color. Her fingers curled tightly into her palms as she bit back a cry of pain.
Eugene's familiar scent wrapped around her like a warm embrace, soothing her heart and making her feel safe.
Eugene took a few steady steps and gently lowered Lorraine, still fully clothed, into the wooden tub.
A thousand sharp stabs of excruciating pain shot through her as if she were being cut apart bit by bit. Lorraine's face turned pale as her fingers dug into the edge of the wooden tub in a white-knuckled grip, not making a sound.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally recovered.
"Are you cold?" Eugene asked softly.
"Not cold. It's warm," she murmured, shaking her head.
Eugene reached for the buttons of her sleepwear.
Lorraine instinctively tried to shrink away, but Eugene gently held her shoulder. "Come on," he said softly, "what haven't I seen before? There's nothing for you to be afraid of."
Lorraine lowered her head and fell silent.
Eugene carefully undid the buttons of her nightgown, revealing the bruised skin beneath. His eyes turned icy, yet his touch remained gentle.
Her clothes were gently slipped off. Eugene's fingertips traced lightly over her collarbone. In a low, husky voice, he murmured, "Stay still. Let me wash you."
The familiar warmth of Eugene's touch finally seeped through her skin.
Lorraine felt safe at last. She offered no resistance, docilely leaning against the edge of the tub as he washed her. The warm water was soothing, easing the tension from her body and lulling her into relaxation.
Eugene's slender fingers traced over Lorraine's body again and again, until at last her heart found peace.
After a long silence, Lorraine finally asked, "Where's Henry?"
His fingers stilled for a moment on her skin. Eugene looked up at her, his gaze softening. "Don't trouble yourself with him. Once your wounds heal, we'll go home. Just stay by my side. Understood?"
Lorraine gazed blankly at him as if she understood his words, yet seemed completely lost. She looked as dazed and helpless as a lost little duckling.
'But doesn't he already have a fiancée?' Lorraine wondered.