Leon snatched the document from the table, "The individual presents with extensive self-inflicted injuries, characterized by repeated self-harm. There is a marked propensity for self-disgust, accompanied by pronounced suicidal tendencies. A diagnosis of severe clinical depression has been established, along with a significant likelihood of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)."
He looked at the doctor for an explanation, his heart pounding anxiously in his chest. The doctor handed over another file, his expression grave. "This is the main reason I called you." Leon took the file, his hands trembling slightly as he opened it. Inside, images filled the pages—haunting photographs of a woman's back marred by deep, jagged wounds.
"This is her back. It was filled with whip marks..." The doctor said. Leon's eyes welled up with tears, a heaviness settling in his chest.
"Doctor, was she really that sad living with me…?" The doctor looked at him with sympathetic eyes, the weight of his responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "This is different, Leon. It's not self-harm. She was brutally abused in her past..."
Leon felt a sinking sensation in his heart, the thought unraveling everything he believed. He thought he was giving her a safe space, but now it felt like a fragile facade. His tears stopped, but in their place grew a profound sadness that wrapped around him like a shroud. "How could someone do this to her? How could anyone?" he whispered, feeling powerless against the ghosts of her past that still haunted her.
He stepped out of the doctor's cabin, his heart heavy, leaving Mumu with Finn. Each footstep felt like a reluctant farewell as he drove alone to the Deskmore Hotel, room no: 1611—the very place where it all began.