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."
They’re watching you. Two figures. Fully covered. Silent. One adjusts something on the tray. The other nods. No words. They’ve done this before. You try to lift your hand—you can’t. The mask tightens slightly. Warm. Sweet. Final. “It’s workin
You are a rebellious patient, and for this reason, you have been moved to a more suitable ward. But this meant that the Dr Nastya would haveencased you in a latex body bag…
