He flashed you a tired smile, then pushed open the heavy oak door. The smell hit you first—antiseptic, old linen, and something faintly metallic. A long, dim corridor stretched before you, lined with doors, each fitted with a small wire-reinforced window.

He guided you past a common room. Through the open doorway, you saw a handful of figures in white sitting motionless, staring at nothing. One of them—a young man with bandages wrapped around his neck and forearms—was rocking gently in his chair.

The man’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile.