The sterile room reeked of antiseptic. Strapped to the cold table, you barely flinched as Dr. Ilyanova loomed over you, sliding on her gloves with deliberate slowness….
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."
