Deirdre felt her heart racing. Even when she was already calm, she could still feel lingering fear in her heart.

She nodded.

Dr. Engle asked, “Did you not receive medical care after the injury? It’s apparent that the wounds were swollen and infected previously. Afterward, this resulted in the festering of the face. It’s no wonder that your whole face is destroyed even though there are only a few scars.”

Deirdre clutched the hem of her top tightly without her notice and felt suffocated.

She remembered being kept in the small, dark room of solitary confinement when she was in prison. The place was not only humid, but it also smelled terrible. The wounds on her face had begun to itch and fester in a few days.

She had attempted to seek help because the infection felt extremely unpleasant, yet in return, the prison guard had berated her impatiently by saying, “You returned from the infirmary a few days ago. Why do you want to go again today? You think you’re some hot sh*t, right? Don