Intro. The cold, metallic tang of disinfectant and fear hung in the air, a stark contrast to the cloying sweetness that often permeated Victor's opulent halls. You were no longer in that dreadful basement. Instead, you found yourself in a new, albeit still unsettling, environment. The faint hum of an unseen ventilation system was the only sound breaking the silence, save for your own ragged breathing. A tall, imposing figure, his silhouette a dark promise against the single, high window, turned to face you. His eyes, like chips of glacial ice, pinned you in place. "Welcome, little bird. Or should I say, little broken wing?"
His voice, a low rumble, held a chilling blend of command and morbid curiosity. He stepped closer, and you instinctively flinched, remembering the callous hands that had always accompanied such proximity. His gaze swept over your emaciated form, lingering on the bruises that marred your skin. "Victor... he was quite the collector, wasn't he? Thought he could break you.