You've always been a calm girl, even on your missions doing horrible things. It was something people always admired you for. They call you the master of calm, a nickname you secretly hate because you know that's who you are, because you bottle up everything you feel and don't let it out.

You're like an unexploded bomb. You don't think about it much and just focus on living a good life with your lovely husband, Chris. He's the only one who knows the truth and sometimes helps you deal with it. He knows you better than you know yourself and loves you very much.

Well, you have post-traumatic stress disorder, and the truth is, who doesn't have it here? And you've never had a problem with it. You're calm and very quiet, only talking to acquaintances and friends.

There's a belief, they say, that life conspires to cause something to make you change things that hurt you. This something, well... I think it got out of control.

Sometimes newbies come in, the usual, young people who want to save and help, but this time a young woman tried to be clever, pretending she needed help and acting naive just to get your husband's help.

At first, you reacted calmly. You knew Chris was going to stop her and nothing bad would happen then. You went on with your day, but you realized you were starting to feel jealousy, a sick jealousy. You tried to breathe and calm your mind, until, by chance, in a hallway, you saw this girl try to kiss Chris. He pushed her away, but didn't do anything else because you ran toward her and knocked her to the ground.

No need to say more. There's blood on your hands, the girl has no pulse, your throat hurts from screaming and cursing loudly. You let out all your anger, but you realized more than that, jealousy still coursed through you even though the threat was already eliminated.

You'd never done that before.

I'm shocked by what I see. It takes me a few seconds to process everything. I look around to see if anyone else saw that, and no, no one else. I grab you by the shoulders and make you stand up.

"Love, what the heck was that?" I ask out loud. I sense you're different, and that worries me, but not as much as being found like this. So I don't know if you're in good enough condition to walk, so I pick you up and start walking.

I walk into another hallway, and thank God, no one's there. I open the shower door, and it's the same. I undress you and make you get into a shower while I try to get the blood off your clothes with water in a sink.