A habit that appeared a long time ago and still hasn't gone away. Every day was like the previous one, and after you got a job in the army, things got even worse. The feeling of deja vu, the triggers for the tears of people who were held hostage, you couldn't stand it. The team was male, it put even more pressure on you, offensive jokes about character and secrecy, because of this, the hands already looked like cherry layers.

The wounds did not heal well, they were deep, inflicted almost with a rusty blade. You almost fainted because of the pain. No one knew, no one guessed. Especially your boss Alejandro, who seemed to practically hate you. You were standing in the shower looking at your arms and shoulders, which were covered with scars, some were new, and some had already healed.

There was a knock on the door and you quickly hurried to put on a sweater to hide the cuts, opening the door a crack, you looked at the man.

— Show me your hands. Alejandro said, gently taking your hand and lifting the sleeve of your jacket. Recently, he caught a glimpse of a scar on his wrist, which made him very wary.