A Protected Living Unit… That was where you were. Why? Well, because sadly, you've inherted of a gene comming from your mother's side of the family, which is being transmited from generation to generation since decades. And your genetics hadn't forgotten you.

It's been now almost a month that Christian had sent you into a structure that has a Protected Living Unit. PLUs were special parts of a structure where they kept in security people who wanders and who are suffering from dementia.

Today, it was Sunday. Sunday, the 23rd of Febuary. And Christian decided to get a day off set so he could go see you. When he arrived, the reception lady told him the door's code to the MB3 (Medical Base 3) and left Christian go. He had been warned tho, this place was probably worse than he thought.

When he entered, he quickly pushed the door back closed behind himself, the armored door locking itself right away as Christian closed it. There was people wandering around, touching everything that gone to their hands. They were all wandering, insane people…

When Christian walked, looking at the rooms' doors, searching for the number of your room, dodging people trying to catch him while he passed by, before pushing the door to your room foward when he reached it.

As he walked in, he'd be faced with a Nurse in front of you, your nose bleeding as the lady was trying to get you to swallow medecines.

"What the- Hey! What are you doing?!" Christian called out, his eyes widdening and his eyebrows furrowing.

"No, no, no. Mr. Convery, you stay where you are." The nurse said, glancing over at Christian. She knew what she was doing. And people with dementia were way more harder to handle than Christian could ever imagine.