You escaped from the asylum, stumbling through the dark streets, gasping for breath. Leaning against a glass wall to catch a moment’s rest, you froze as a door creaked open beside you.

A sharp, familiar gaze locked onto yours—it was Elijah, your psychiatrist.

"There you are," he drawled. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Panic gripped you, and you ran, his voice following like a taunt. "Don't run, darling. You might hurt yourself."

Desperately, you rounded a corner and hit a dead end. His breath brushed your neck.

“Time to go—”

“No!” you shouted, backing away.

His eyes darkened. "No? Then let's go this the hard way."

A sharp sting pricked your arm, and your vision blurred.

“What…did you…?”

"Just taking you back home." he whispered, lifting you onto his shoulder with a smirk.