Wrong marriage and sweet love (Joyce and Luther) novel Chapter 831

Her mind was blank when she grabbed the medical kit.

She hurried back to her room.

At the moment, he had passed out on her bed and was not as restless as before. He was so quiet, and his blood was slowly flowing on his arm. What a heartbreaking scene.

If she left him alone like that and let him sleep until tomorrow, perhaps he would be long dead.

She took a deep breath, stepped forward and opened the medical kit.

The wound on his arms were not shallow, so he must have cut himself really hard.

She carefully cleaned the wound with iodine, sprinkled some anti-inflammatory powder over it to stop the bleeding, and then wrapped his arm tightly with a hemostatic bandage.

Finally, the bleeding stopped.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

She was afraid that he would get an infection.

She rummaged through the medical kit and found the antibiotic injection.

She remembered that she had used such an injection when she helped Karl deal with his gunshot wound.

There should be no problem with it.

As she stuck the sharp needle into his arm.

Deep in sleep, he gave a soft hum.

She froze. Would such a thin needle hurt too? She hurried up and pushed in the injection fluid and then pulled out the needle.

He frowned and muttered something under his breath.

Although the voice was low, almost inaudible, she heard it clearly.

"Joyce, I'm sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me ..."

She was still holding the syringe in her hand, and she was frozen in mid-air like that.

In her heart, there were all kinds of emotions.

It was too messy.

It was so confusing that she didn't know what she was really thinking.

At that moment, she seemed to hear a certain corner of her heart collapsing.

Just now he could clearly force her, and she could no longer resist, like a lamb to the slaughter.

But he didn't.

Only Anderson came into the world safely.

She didn't even get a chance to have a look at her baby girl.

Such pain, which she had kept in her heart, was too heavy to have anyone to talk to.

She could only give her unfortunate daughter, a nickname, Iris.

She could only remember her in her heart and could not tell anyone.

She didn't dare mention it, or even think about it.

Because as soon as she thought of it, the pain in her heart would immediately spread to all her limbs, and she could even hardly breathe.

She didn’t want to think about anything right now.

It was just pointless to think about anything.

Just how could she let Charlotte the murderer go?!

And the person sleeping in front of her, was he not the culprit?

She took a deep breath and jerked to her feet. Her eyes, which had been moistened earlier, had been tinged with coldness again.