Boxing Gloves

"Not by the Loen army…" Anthony Reid muttered under his breath, his eyes distant.

The night of the attack had haunted his dreams, replaying over and over, each iteration etching the brutality and mercilessness of the Loen soldiers into his consciousness. These nightmares had grown, evolving into an inescapable nightmare. And now, shockingly, someone was telling him that they were not Loen soldiers!

Franca's demeanor, the subtle shifts in her expressions and body language—it all told him that Franca wasn't lying; she wasn't bluffing him!

This revelation rendered his years of suffering, of misattributed blame, into a cruel jest.

As a Psychiatrist, Anthony Reid was acutely attuned to the waves of disillusionment that crashed through his psyche. His emotional stability quivered, struck by a potent aftershock.

Instinctively, he used Placate on himself.