Yuna tried to focus her attention on the hand in her hair and the clinical smell of disinfectant, so different from the stench of blood. The smell helped her remember the next part of the story. Swallowing, she continued, "My parents were out at that time. I was alone at home. I don't have any siblings and I don't live with my grandparents. I think my parents had gone out for a while only, but I don't remember where they went. I don't know how much time had passed while they were out either, but I don't think they were gone for more than an hour. And when they came back... I know I had to get stitches done, because I can still see a bit of the scar. But I don't remember much else. My mother was very kind to me, though, while I had those bandages. I think I couldn't really eat for days, because all I could think of was..." she faltered here, then forced herself to finish her sentence. "...the taste of my blood."<br/><br/>She stopped again, trying to control yet another all out panic attack. She could bear it if she were to attack Dr. Radovich for the second time within an hour! And she was sure the sanitarium wouldn't tolerate a patient going out of hand like that. She would be locked down, put into solitary, or something. In her desperation, she clung to the doctor's words: "Anyone can get better..." Part of Yuna, the part that harboured the gulity pleasure of the taste of blood and the sensation of pain, did not want to get better. But the other part of her, which was still mildly sane, if only in shock of what she had done to harm herself and others, wanted in earnest to put all this behind her and move on...