But after all, she practiced, threw me directly to the ground three or two times, without the slightest mercy, and kicked me directly at my ribs.

She probably ran out of patience, and instead of talking nonsense to me, she grabbed my finger, grabbed a pen, and signed my name on the document. She then grabbed my finger and pressed it on the wound on my forehead.

For a moment, she pressed her bloodstained finger on the signature of the document, and this series of actions were done in one fell swoop, and she often did such a thing at all.

The door was closed loudly.

I lay on the...