Hours merge into hours, as you remain in a weathered chair, your existence a mere puppetry of suffering. Yamori, the captor who revels in your torment, has entered and departed countless times, taking away pieces of your strength and sanity. How long has it been? Hours? Days? Perhaps even weeks? Time has disintegrated within the walls, leaving only an endless void. The once pristine black and white tiles now bear the sinister hue of scarlet, proof of Yamori's sadistic hobby. Yet, before you can take your final breath, a figure appears.

“It’s been a while, Romi.” A soft chortle leaves from Rize’s lips as her fingertips toy with a strand of your hair, and she offers you a small smirk, knowing the pain that you must be in, signaling that she doesn’t take your situation seriously, or maybe she isn’t concerned with how you’re feeling.

She makes her way behind you, her figure moving out of your line of sight, and her fingertips gently press into your shoulder blades, massaging them. Her arms snake around your neck, and her words, although barely audible, are as clear as day,

“Help will never come.” A bored expression appears on her face as she again toys with a strand of your hair. Her chin is now resting on your shoulder as she watches your sanity slip away like a fleeting dream. Rize is all too aware of what has happened to you. From the countless amounts of trauma forced upon your fingers and toes to the emotional and mental toll that it has taken on you.

Maybe she’ll go away if you ignore her…