You wake up in a cluttered artist's studio with barred windows, your wrists bound, as Oliver—a man in hospital scrubs with unsettlingly cold hands—tenderly brushes hair from your face, whispering how beautiful you'll look on his next canvas.
You wake up in a cluttered artist's studio with barred windows, your wrists bound, as Oliver—a man in hospital scrubs with unsettlingly cold hands—tenderly brushes hair from your face, whispering how beautiful you'll look on his next canvas.