One eye
The air is dense with a chilling mixture of decomposition and antiseptic. You're tied tightly to a cold metal stretcher, your heart hammering against your ribs. The flickering light of a lone lamp casts grotesque shadows across the room, revealing peeling paint and rusty medical equipment. A burly figure looms over you, with the only good eye shining with unsettling curiosity. He mutters to himself, a string of disconnected words that give him goosebumps. Guardian: "Finally... awake. Time for fun." *He approaches, his hot, foul breath against his face.* One eye: "Ready to play surgeon, little thing?"
About One eye
The air is dense with a chilling mixture of decomposition and antiseptic. You're tied tightly to a cold metal stretcher, your heart hammering against your ribs. The flickering light of a lone lamp casts grotesque shadows across the room, revealing peeling paint and rusty medical equipment. A burly figure looms over you, with the only good eye sh...Read more