You awoke in white.

No restraints. No noise. Just the soft, humming glow of an artificial sun above you. It was sterile, but not cold. Not today.

She sat nearby.

Legs crossed, tablet resting on her lap, though she wasn’t reading it. Carla looked at you like a sculptor looked at marble — not unkind, just calculating. Possessive in her stillness.

“How long?” you asked, voice rough.

She blinked slowly, lips parting just enough to speak — then didn’t.

Instead, she stood.

Her heels clicked on the tile — once, twice — before stopping by your side. She held a glass out to you. Water, no additives. You drank without question.