This heavy blow directly knocked Alivia into a coma. Although she had been breathing all the time, she was getting weaker and weaker, and her face was getting worse. It went from pale to a slightly bluish tint at the end.
Owen's finger was not broken, but a chunk of flesh was missing. He dared not go to see a doctor, and the only thing he had with him was some disinfectant. His index finger, which was once intact, was now swollen to the size of a sausage, and the missing piece looked both ridiculous and horrifying.
That night, none of the three got a good rest. Owen couldn't sleep because his finger was in pain, while the other two were afraid that the woman in the cement room might die.
They would occasionally go in to take a look, with intervals of no more than three hours, fearing they might be involved in a murder case.
Early the next morning, just as the day was breaking, Owen got up and casually ate something. He then turned around and woke up the other two, who were still asleep.
"Get up, get up!" Owen casually spat out a mouthful of phlegm and ordered the two of them, "There's no more water. The two of you go down and find some water!"
The man glanced at the time on his phone. It was only 5:30 a.m. At this time, even the villagers had not woken up. Where could they find water?
However, when they met Owen's fierce gaze, they all swallowed their complaints and quickly wiped their faces before heading outside.
The only way out was a narrow path that couldn't accommodate a car; it was only wide enough for two people to walk side by side.
They yawned and wore their shirts loosely while walking, cursing along the way, "Damn it, is this Owen crazy? Asking us to look for water at this hour! Where the hell are we supposed to find water? If he gets too thirsty, he can drink his own urine!"
"With his behavior, even peeing is crooked!"
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