The scent emanating from Joanna Lawrence acts like a calming balm, capable of putting him at ease more successfully than any medicine he’s ever taken.
The sweet fragrance of fruit and soft scent of flowers wafting at his nostrils, at this moment, his entire being is in such a relaxed state. With his eyes closed for a moment, he drifts into sleep.
That night, with Joanna at his side, Ashton Heath is besieged by the same nightmare again.
In his dreams, he’s taken back to the day he was kidnapped.
Bound hands and feet in a damp and dilapidated basement, a piece of dirty cloth stuffed in his sinewy mouth, his delicate face covered in filth to the point where his natural looks were indistinguishable.
Guarded by a group of ruthless, gun-toting criminals, surviving each day on spare steamed buns, those thugs who kidnapped him did it out of an animosity towards the wealthy. After kidnapping him, they gave him only a bare piece of steamed bun each day, and beat him regularly.
Had they not needed him in order to get their ransom, they probably would have beaten him to death.
In his dreams, Ashton watches as his younger self, silently enduring his predicament, waits calmly for a rescue.
And then, the day arrived when the Heath family came to redeem him.
The Heaths called the police.
When the criminals discovered this, they became enraged and decided to kill him.
They bundled him into a car and raced down the road.
Whilst being pursued by the police, the panicked group drove toward a cliff.
At that moment, his luck held.
All the hoodlums who’d kidnapped him were thrown off the cliff, he on the other hand was pulled out of the vehicle just in time by a policeman who’d chased them.
Just when everyone thought he was saved, another wave of criminals arrived. Seeing their comrades’ car plunge off the cliff, they lost control and opened fire.
The police officer who had saved him from the cliff jumped in front of Ashton.
And took the bullet for him.
At that moment, the dream turned blood red.
Pools of blood flowed from the policeman who had taken the bullet, quickly soaking his police uniform.
His eyes wide open, a look of reluctance and sorrow spread across his young handsome face as he fell lifeless into the pool of blood.
The Ashton who was kidnapped for three whole days and nights, the one who was abused and beaten by the thugs without shedding a tear, wept for the first time at the sight of the policeman falling before him.
This scene became his everlasting nightmare.
The sight of the blinding blood red caused his heart to feel like it was being impaled, the piercing pain spreading from his chest across his whole body.
He felt like he was suffocating.
Watching his savior fall before him, with life ebbing away.
And he was powerless.
This feeling of helplessness plunged him into deep self-blame and guilt.
If it wasn’t for him, that police officer wouldn’t have died.
If only he hadn’t been so weak then, he could have protected himself.
Just when he’s trapped in his nightmare, unable to wake up as usual, a soft, worried and desperate voice echoes in his ear, calling his name, "Ashton, Ashton..."
He feels a soft hand gripping his tightly, injecting his body with newfound strength.
His frigid body gradually warms up.