Her face was pale, sweat rolling down from her forehead, but there was not much visible pain on her face.
It was as if she was enduring, or as if she truly couldn't feel the pain.
Wayne Lane sat silently by her side, then took out gauze and basic antiseptic from his backpack.
"Give me your hand."
Hannah looked up at him, her hand still covering her arm, and with a slight force, fresh blood slid down through her fingers.
In just this short moment, quite a lot of blood had already pooled on the ground. It was hard to see in the night, but a somewhat pungent smell of blood was discernible.
Seeing that Hannah kept looking at him, Wayne Lane sighed and repeated, "Give me your hand, your wound needs to be treated."
The lighting around was slightly dim, and some distance away sat people who had just escaped from the tube building with them. Everyone didn't dare to move, just waiting for someone to come handle the situation and then arrange a new place for them to stay.
