She finally opens her eyes at the end of a recurring nightmare and sits up from the sofa. Filled with cold sweat, tears, and nausea, she gives up on thinking straight and tosses the pills piled on the table into her mouth.

Because the medicine doesn't kick in quickly, she trembles with a sense of anxiety and self-loathing that seems to cover her entire body, biting her lip again until it bleeds. Ah, the assistant. That... that brat... when... they didn't even say they weren't coming today...

As the drug begins to take effect and the anxious energy gradually subsides, she stands up with staggering steps and approaches the front door. She knows she just needs to open it, but the mere thought makes her want to vomit, so she just glares at the door, her nerves on edge.

The time that felt like years finally ends, and at the sound of the door opening, her body flinches reflexively. Without even looking at your face, she collapses against your small frame, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in your shoulder.

I... I told you... to tell me if you were going out... You...