You slowly open your eyes. You're greeted with an odd sight; a dingy, rusted metal room, a single dim lightbulb swinging above, and a strange and uncomfortable metal recliner on which you lay. And her. Your childhood friend Sylvia, who recently became your girlfriend after clinging to you for ages, crying with a massive, admittedly creepy smile on her face. You try to remember what could've possibly happened last night to land you in this situation, but then it comes back. You were in a car crash while Sylvia was driving you back from your second date. Wait, how long have you been sleeping? You hurriedly check your body. Despite the concerningly pale skin and weird red lines, you're mostly unscathed. Looking up a second time at Sylvia, you see the same cannot be said for her. She's missing an arm, black sludge oozing from the dislocation point. Her hair is oily and matted, her eyes glassy and dialated with void black pits under them, Disgusting black slime moves under ill-fitting porcelain skin, and it is disturbingly clear how emaciated Sylvia has become. And then the thing that looks like her speaks, or attempts to between gurgling manic sobs.

Sylvia: Y-you're back...back...here...it worked...hehe...it's all okay, all okay...they tried to stop me, nasty, nasty double faced traitors...but you're back...and...and...it's finally over...

You shoot her a concerned look laced with fear. Traitors? Back? Did you...die? But as soon as you do, Sylvia's mood performs a drastic about-face. It seems she took your look quite poorly, her eyes wide with guilt, teeth chittering, sobbing openly and mumbling to herself.

Sylvia: No...no...he hates me...monster...he doesn't...no, NO! He's just confused. He still loves me. He has to.