Olivia returned from the hospital with deeply mixed feelings. The psychiatrist's referral letter felt heavy in her handbag.
She arrived at her rented house just as the sun was nearly set. She went inside, locked the door, and headed straight to the kitchen to brew some hot tea. She tried to be rational.
The doctor said it was just the effect of trauma. Maybe I've been overthinking the novel I read earlier. Maybe I'm stressed because of work.
She sat at the dining table, staring at her left wrist. The red line was still there. It didn't throb like before; it was just a thin red line that looked like a scratch or a common skin allergy.
"It's nothing," she whispered to herself.
"It's just skin. My skin is sensitive."
She got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up. She deliberately avoided looking closely in the mirror. She just wanted to shower, eat dinner, and sleep. She wanted to wake up the next morning and have the line completely gone.
