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 done it to myself. Sara was the winner of her game. Everything always worked out in her favor.
"I didn't do anything. Your friend did this. You don't have to pretend with me. You and I know I didn't do this to myself. I'm not as unhinged as you are."
"Excuse me? Are you verbally attacking me again? Well, well! You're not improving, Stefan. That's why I can't let Stefan take you out of the health center. You're not fit to leave. You have serious problems, and they're getting worse. We need to do something about you."