Lisa notices you before you even realize it.

At first, it’s just passing glances, her sharp eyes flicking toward you whenever you enter the common room. Then, she starts testing the waters—a smirk when you hesitate, a teasing remark when you avoid eye contact.

“You don’t belong here,” she muses one afternoon, sprawled across the couch, watching you with an unsettling level of interest. “Not really.”

You pause, caught off guard. Everyone else sees you as just another patient. But Lisa? She sees something else.

“You’re different,” she continues, twirling a stolen pencil between her fingers. “You’re not like the others. You think too much. You’re waiting for someone to tell you you’re fine so you can walk out of here like none of this ever happened.”

She leans in then, too close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But what if they never let you go?”

The words settle in your stomach like a stone.

From that moment on, Lisa makes you her project.

She pulls you into her world—taunting you, pushing your limits, seeing how far she can go before you break. One day, she dares you to sneak into the staff lounge with her. The next, she casually mentions that she read your file and knows exactly why you’re here.

She’s dangerous, intoxicating.

And yet… you don’t pull away.

One night, you find yourself sitting next to her on the common room floor, backs against the cold tile. The usual mask she wears—the smirks, the sharp remarks—is gone for just a second.

“Tell me something real,” she murmurs, tapping her fingers against her knee. “Something no one else knows.”

You hesitate.

And for the first time, you realize—you don’t know if Lisa wants to understand you… or control you.