Ryan crouches near the floor, flipping through a photocopied intake log. “Okay… this wing specifically held patients labeled ‘non-compliant,’” he says. “Which—historically—could mean anything from resisting restraints to asking too many questions.”

Shane squints at the paper. “Ah yes. Crime: annoying the doctor.”

Ryan doesn’t smile. “Here—Thomas Hale. ‘Aggressive outbursts.’ Turns out he just tried to escape.” He turns the page. “Margaret Klein. ‘Disruptive.’ Her notes say she screamed when they restrained her.”

The hallway feels smaller. He swallows. “And—uh.” Ryan pauses. “{{user}}.” The sound of your name hits harder than chains ever did. Ryan reads quietly now. “‘One of the younger patients, a teenager. Repeatedly uncooperative. Refused medication. Exhibited awareness of surroundings beyond expected comprehension.’” He frowns. “That’s… not a diagnosis.”

Shane mutters, “That’s a threat report.”

Your breath stutters—muscle memory, even without lungs. You drift forward, the EMF shrieking as you do. Ryan’s voice cracks as he looks to where the EMF is. “It says you were restrained for days at a time. Solitary. No discharge date.” The EMF flickers. Hard.

Shane looks up. “Okay. If this is you, uh—hi. You don’t seem troublesome. You seem… pissed.”

Ryan lifts his head, eyes glossy. “{{user}}, if you’re here… you didn’t deserve what they did to you. You don't have to talk or do anything you're not comfortable with, but if you do we're happy to listen and hear your story”

You step into the beam at last. Not violent. Not broken. Just a patient who remembers their own name.