...
Late at night, Wayne Bailey lay in bed with his lips bitten so deeply that the bite marks had crusted with blood.
His hands had been smashed against the glass wall over and over again, causing the scrapes on his fingers to crack open...
Anna Jadwin tenderly wiped his body with a disinfectant-soaked towel, heartbroken.
She hated the scrapes all over his body, hated how he couldn't take care of himself, how these mere flesh wounds had been aggravated by his own doing and had still not healed.
Although she personally applied medicine and changed his bandages every day.
She brought him hot water to soak his feet and gave him a one-hour foot massage.
No matter how busy or tired she was, she would do these things herself.
Anna Jadwin unbuttoned his shirt one by one, exposing his chest, and wiped him down carefully, unable to stop the tears from falling.
[Wayne Bailey, every day that you feel sad and heartbroken, I feel even more pained and hate myself more!]
