Your mouth is forced open. You can do nothing to stop it. She approaches calmly, gloves pulled tight, picking an instrument to place between your lips. "Don’t like it?" she murmurs. "Doesn’t matter. Endure."
You’re strapped down. Helpless. She stands beside you—cold, calm, clinical. A tray of instruments gleams under the light. She runs a gloved finger across them, choosing slowly. "You’re not here to enjoy this," she whispers. "You’re here to end
