Kara

　　Minutes after Sara left my room, the psychiatrist walked in. She looked at me with disdain and smiled.

　　"What? Are you here to mistreat me? I've had enough with Sara. I don't need to be further threatened," I warned.

　　"What happened to your arm, Kara? What have you done?" she asked.

　　I looked at my arm. The mark Sara left was still there. Her hand around my arm was imprinted, and the psychiatrist used it against me, pretending I had ...