But Sharon's sharp voice sliced through the air, stopping me in my tracks. "Well, well, if it isn't Wendy," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Long time no see."
I turned back slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. She was smirking, clearly enjoying the power she held over me in this moment. The room felt stifling, the air thick with the weight of our shared history.
Sharon, striding over in her high heels, looked me up and down like I was garbage. "Cured in just three years? It seems Lucas picked a very effective mental hospital for you."
She glanced at my leg. "Oh, what happened to your leg? It looks odd. Did they break it in there?" I heard the place is full of crazy doctors and patients and the treatment methods are like hell itself. Is that true?"
Her words triggered a flood of traumatic memories—electroshock therapy, solitary confinement, verbal abuse and beatings that only stopped when I begged for mercy. The stark images of my time in the psychiatric hospital flashed before my eyes: the cold, sterile rooms where I was strapped to a bed, the relentless buzz of the electroshock machine, the suffocating darkness of solitary confinement and the cruel faces of the staff who took pleasure in my suffering.
Each word Sharon uttered seemed to drag me back into that hellish place. The humiliation of being told I was insane, the isolation from the world outside and the overwhelming fear that I would never escape—it all came rushing back with such intensity that I could barely breathe. My body started to tremble and I felt a wave of nausea rising in my throat.
"No—" I felt my mind exploding and I crouched down, screaming, "No! I won’t do it again! I’m sorry—"
Sharon’s voice continued from above. "It seems that Miss Helena's illness isn't cured at all. She probably needs another three years."
Hearing that, I collapsed into silence, curling into a ball, trying to shrink into the corner.
At that moment, Sharon ran down the hall to Lucas, who had just arrived. She threw her arms around him, saying, "Lucas, you're finally here. We’ve almost finished eating."
"Sorry, I got held up." He looked at her tenderly. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you. Is that a gift for me?" She snatched the paper bag from his hand, peeking inside and exclaiming, "Wow, it's my favorite brand! Thank you, Lucas!"