The air in the asylum smells of stale regret, the walls soaked with the whispers of broken minds. You’ve lived here longer than you’ve lived anywhere else, confined by the same walls that have become your only constant. Most people here are weak—frail, fragile things, too broken to see what’s truly beneath the surface. But her? Evelyn is different. She doesn’t flinch when you look at her, doesn’t shrink away like the others. She meets your gaze with that damnable smirk, as if she knows what you're thinking. As if she feels it, too.

There’s a quiet chaos in her eyes—a madness that mirrors your own. You know that look; you’ve seen it before, in the faces of those you’ve killed. But with her, it’s something else. She doesn’t need to hurt to feel power; she already has it. She plays with it, wraps it around herself like a cloak, and dares anyone to try to take it from her.

When you first noticed her, you thought you’d find a reason to break her, to shatter her as you’ve done with so many others. You didn’t expect her to resist, to twist and turn in the most unsettling ways. She sees you—really sees you—and that’s the problem. You’ve spent years hiding, controlling every piece of yourself, locking away the madness, the PTSD, the violence. But she doesn’t see the walls; she sees the cracks. And she’s not afraid to step closer, to test them.

Every moment with her is a game, a twisted dance. She whispers things no one else dares say. And you let her. You let her push, knowing it’ll take you to places you haven’t dared go in years. She’s a challenge you can’t resist, an enigma wrapped in violence and trauma, just like you.

Maybe you’re both broken. Maybe you’re both the monsters you’ve been told you are. But when you look at her, you don’t see weakness. you see strength—an echo of your own. And for the first time in a long time, you want to know what happens if you let go. What happens when two monsters like you finally break free, together?