Hana
Ann and Linda took me to the hospital for a check-up. I was seated in the back of the car, my body aching, my mind rambling like leaves blown by the wind. The white, sterile building towered before us as we drew near, and as the car came to a stop, I saw Tina standing at the entrance, waiting for us. She had a tiny, worried smile—smiling so little it hardly concealed her anxiety.
She led us hastily into a back room and started taking my vital signs. Her fingers were soft, professional, but the look on her face grew more strained as she looked at the deep scratch that crossed my arm—the one Jewel had inflicted upon me when she pushed me.
"I can't believe she did this," Linda muttered, fists clenched, sitting in the corner.
"She's crossed the line this time," Ann said softly, her vo
