She enters uncertain, she would like to have Andrea by her side, instead she is alone, she feels lonely. The nurse for the check-in doesn't look up from her papers as she speaks to her. 

"So, ma'am, tell me what happened."

Ma'am? - thinks Rachele, and how did she figure out that I'm a living being, belonging to the human race and female? It must be the sensitivity developed after years spent in relieving the others’ suffering. 

"So?" she repeats stymied. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Rachele's stubborn silence forces her to lift her head from the papers, her eyes have a quiver, it must not be a pretty sight.
The hematoma has descended from her temples to her eye which is now opening with difficulty, her lips that were tingling last night have swollen up, the knuckles of her hands are bruised. It's strange - she thinks - maybe this time I must have defended myself somehow.
The nurse fits her glasses better to look at her, maybe an "excuse me" flies through her head, but she doesn't say it and  she let her inside the room. 

At the computer there is a young doctor, early 30s, he keeps his eyes fixed on the monitor, he just has to give her a priority code. He barely touches her with his gaze, she imperceptibly blushes.

"Rachele, Rachele Cordidonne, born in Pisa on October 10, 1970”. 

"How did you get the bruises?"

"I was beaten."

"By a known person?"

"Yes."

"Other than your face, do you have any other injuries?"

"My back hurts, I got hit there too."

“Yellow code, have a seat."

 

Yellow code -I take a seat.