The room was small and gray, the walls sweating with condensation from the ventilation pipes overhead. A single fluorescent light buzzed faintly, flickering every few seconds like a heartbeat that couldn't decide whether to continue.

Y/N sat on the edge of a narrow cot, hands limp in her lap. Her head ached. Not the sharp kind, but a dull, spreading throb that made the edges of her thoughts feel soft and blurred.

She couldn't remember how long she'd been in this room. Minutes? Hours? She'd been in the chair again. The one with the straps. The one that made her teeth taste like copper.

She remembered a voice, calm and patient, asking her about her father.

She remembered screaming. Or maybe she hadn't.

A woman was standing near the door. She had a kind face. That was the worst part. She always had a kind face.

Dr. Voss didn't move closer. She never did, not right away. She let the silence sit, let Y/N's mind settle into itself.